Suddenly the bell rang very close. Lei jumped. It was the signal that the dead were returning to their graves.
A moment later the mist lifted as suddenly as it had done the day before. Sunlight flooded the island, and the three travellers hid their burning eyes in their hands. Without knowing it, they had reached the foot of the lighthouse. Before them lay the town, with its well-maintained roads and its squares and fountains. Below them in the little bay they could see the Fabula, with Finopico and the twins on deck trying in vain to catch sight of them.
Babilas and the two girls waited. The sun rose in the azure sky, the seabirds circled above the cliffs. For some time not a word passed their lips. Lei was looking impatiently at the facades of the houses. When the shutters opened, and if her potion had worked, it would not be the Unseen who looked out to greet the new day, but flesh-and-blood people.
Long minutes went by. Malva felt her limbs going numb in the warmth of the sun. She must have slept briefly while her two companions, still on the alert for any sign of life, walked round and round the lighthouse.
In the end, when nothing happened, they too sat down, heavy at heart, their expressions gloomy.
This morning the shutters of the red-brick houses remained closed. The streets were still silent. None of the Unseen came out to draw water from the fountains. No pitchfork turned the hay, no laundry basket floated through the air to the wash-house, no little wooden horse was wheeled along the streets …
Something had certainly happened during that terrifying night, but it was not at all what Lei had wanted.
‘Is no good. I failed,’ she murmured at last.
With a lump in her throat, Malva turned her amber eyes on her friend. Lei, so graceful in her light tunic, was standing looking at the graveyard on the other side of the island. The wind played in her fair hair, and she was crying. It was the first time Malva had seen her look so frail. The daughter of Balmun, her arms dangling in the heart-breaking silence of the island, was simply giving up. The effect of her potion had been the opposite of what she intended: the Unseen had indeed been reunited with their injured bodies, and now they were lying in the ground for all eternity.
‘Neuynas ghun!’ Babilas suddenly shouted, pointing at the graves.
Malva leaped to her feet and joined him. Open-mouthed, the three companions watched a strange and terrifying phenomenon: the brambles and wild grass were growing at incredible speed, sending thorny tentacles and thickets of green all the way up the slope. Before their eyes, the vegetation was reclaiming its rights and soon the graves disappeared under the foliage.
‘Watch out!’ cried Malva, flinching.
The undergrowth was climbing rapidly towards the lighthouse, digging its roots into the paving stones of the streets, clambering up houses, trying to throw its thorny arms round the legs of the Living.
‘We must get out of here!’ cried Malva, unentangling a bramble from her ankles.
Babilas took the girls by their arms and ran through the town with them. Trees were already growing in the middle of the streets, lifting paving stones, cracking walls. The fountains were covered with moss, tiles on the rooftops were being loosened by the ivy attacking the houses. Chimneys fell to the ground and broke, shutters came off their hinges.
‘The town’s collapsing!’ shouted Malva.
They ran without turning to look back. The entire island was changing all around them. When they entered the forest gigantic cobwebs stuck to their faces. Babilas took out his knife and slashed a way through the branches for them.
‘Medicine bad! I not saved Unseen!’ moaned Lei in terror.
The grass had engulfed everything in the fields. The bodies of nuba-nubas lay beside the roads surrounded by fallen walls. There was a smell of rotting in the air. Death embraced the island.
Babilas led Lei and Malva to the beach. The seabirds were screeching threateningly overhead, while up on the deck of the Fabula the twins and Finopico were waving frantically.
‘I not succeed!’ repeated Lei, collapsing on deck. ‘I unworthy of my people!’
‘Hoist all sail!’ Finopico shouted to the twins. He took the tiller himself, while Babilas pushed the ship well away from the beach.
Trembling from head to foot, Malva clung to the rail, her lungs burning. The dreadful images of the night left her mind feverish. She felt consumed by flames, melted, charred. Raising her head to look at the summit of the island, she saw that even the lighthouse had disappeared entirely under the vegetation. Within a few minutes the land had become wild and deserted again.
As the Fabula bravely put out to sea again Malva turned, and saw Lei curled up in a ball on deck, sobbing inconsolably. She went over to her, took off Orpheus’s jacket and wrapped it around her friend. Then she took her in her arms clumsily, not knowing how to comfort her in such grief. Lei’s failure might have grave consequences for all of them, but one thing was certain: neither Malva nor any other member of the crew would hold it against her. The daughter of Balmun had given all she had to save the tormented souls of the Unseen. She had devoted herself to a cause that was lost in advance. She deserved all their respect.
36
Hope
The fifth Stone of Life had just crumbled into powder at the bottom of the Nokros when Orpheus opened his eyes. His face was sticky with dog slobber, Zeph weighed heavily on his chest, and a strange flavour of soup impregnated his tastebuds.
As soon as he came round, he remembered everything: the shipwrecked sailors from Dunbraven, the fight with the Archont, the kitchen utensils, the grappling irons, and finally that stroke of the Archont’s sword. He raised the blankets and looked for his wound. It had disappeared; Lei had worked another of her miracles! And if she had spared the time to nurse him, that must mean that the Fabula was sailing calmly on again, far from the Archont and the Patrols. Orpheus turned to the door.
‘Hello there!’ he called.
Zeph shifted, and raised his big head. Orpheus guessed at the look in his moist eyes under the fringe of hair that fell over his nose.
‘Thanks for keeping me warm, old fellow,’ he said. ‘You can get off me now.’
Zeph put out his tongue and licked his master’s nose, but stayed where he was.
‘Go on, shoo!’ Orpheus repeated. ‘Go and find the others! Go and tell them I’ve woken up!’
Zeph didn’t budge. As usual, he was refusing to obey. Orpheus tried to push him off, but he had lost a lot of strength.
‘Help!’ he called. ‘I’m being smothered! Anyone there?’
A moment went by before the cabin door opened wide. Hob appeared, fists raised, ready for a fight. When he saw that his only opponent would be the big St Bernard he stopped short.
‘Oh,’ he said, rather put out. ‘I thought …’
‘You were good and quick,’ said Orpheus, smiling at him. ‘Congratulations, sailor! If you can dislodge this drooling mutt I’ll make you first mate.’
Hob whistled. Zeph immediately jumped off the bed without any more fuss and went to sit at the boy’s feet. Orpheus shook his head; that dog took pleasure in disobeying him personally.
‘So am I really first mate now, Captain?’ asked Hob mischievously.
Orpheus patted the edge of his berth to show that he wanted Hob to sit down, and asked him what had been going on while he was getting his strength back. Hob immediately told him how Babilas had recovered his ability to speak, and went on to describe the events on the Island of the Unseen in detail, delighted with this chance to impress the Captain. But then his face grew darker.
‘The trouble is that Lei didn’t succeed in bringing the dead to life. She wept for a whole hour, saying over and over again that we were all doomed to the Immuration, and it was her fault. Do you think that’s true?’
Orpheus scratched his chin. The lower part of his face was covered by a thick growth of beard, and it itched.
‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘It will all depend on Catabea’s decision. After all, Lei
did reunite the souls and bodies of those Unseen people.’
Hob sighed. ‘I’m afraid of the Immuration, Captain. Peppe’s even more scared of it than I am. He’s so sensitive … after all the dungeons we knew in Galnicia, I’m not sure he’ll hold out for very long if he’s shut up again.’
‘What about you?’ asked Orpheus gently.
‘Me? I sometimes feel I’m tougher than my brother. Physically we’re identical, yet … oh, I don’t know. Anyway, I could never live without Peppe. The two of us are together for life or death!’
Orpheus smiled, touched by the boy’s enthusiasm, and reassured him as best he could about the Immuration. Then he threw off his blankets and stood up.
‘I feel almost better again!’ he exclaimed, stretching and tensing his muscles. ‘Who’s on watch up on deck?’
‘Finopico,’ said the boy.
Orpheus said he would go and relieve the cook. But when he looked for his jacket, Hob explained that Lei and Malva had been competing for it.
‘In the end they both went to sleep on deck under it, close to each other. I offered the Princess my jersey, but she didn’t want it. I don’t know why – my jersey’s no dirtier than your jacket!’
He said this with a touch of regret and jealousy that made Orpheus smile.
‘Girls are complicated,’ he said, pulling his boots on. ‘They have their secrets, but you mustn’t despair.’
‘Oh, I don’t!’ Hob was quick to say. ‘Judging by what the fortune-te—’
He stopped short and went very red. Orpheus looked hard at him, narrowing his eyes. ‘What exactly did that fortune-teller say? I’d be interested to know.’
At that moment the cabin door opened again. Peppe appeared, hair ruffled and looking sleepy. ‘Oh, there you are!’ he said to his brother. ‘I don’t like you leaving me alone at night. It wakes me up.’
‘Just coming,’ said Hob, making off with a certain relief.
He followed his brother, and they both disappeared into their cabin. Peppe hadn’t given his resuscitated Captain a glance. Only his brother mattered to him. Those two are as inseparable as the two sides of the same coin, thought Orpheus. You could call them Head and Tail!
Then he decided to go up on deck. Zeph followed, dragging his old body up the steps through the hatch.
The sky was clear, and filled with stars. A steady breeze was swelling the sails of the Fabula. Before looking for Finopico Orpheus went over to the rail. His face raised to the wind, he breathed in its salty tang with pleasure. By Holy Harmony, how good it was to be at sea! The ship’s speed and the night air made his head spin. He almost forgot Catabea, the Patrols, the Archont, the Nokros and the terrible deadline hanging over the crew. Just for a moment, standing there on deck and lost on this nameless sea, he felt happier than ever before. The burden that had been weighing on him for so many years had been lifted. Here and now, he felt that at last he was alive. Perhaps that sensation was due to the danger itself? Or the silent presence of his companions on the voyage? Or more simply to his miraculous recovery from the sword stroke? No doubt it was all of them.
He bent down and patted his dog vigorously. ‘I never thought you’d stand up to travelling for so long, you old mutt,’ he said affectionately. ‘If we get out of this Archipelago, I’ll ask Lei to make you something for your paws. Perhaps she can give you back your youth, who knows?’
So saying, he glanced at the middle of the deck, where the two girls were asleep. They were pressed close together, curled up under his quartermaster’s jacket. They had both been through so many ordeals … he owed his life to one of them, and to the other the chance to do what he had always dreamed of. Orpheus straightened up and took a few steps in their direction.
‘I won’t make you go back to Galnicia, Princess,’ he whispered. ‘If we’re still alive at the end of this voyage I hope you will find the country that haunts your dreams. Elgolia, wasn’t it? You’ll have deserved it …’
He thought he saw Malva move in her sleep. Leaning down to her, he looked at her luminous face for a moment.
‘Too bad about me,’ he added in a low voice. ‘Too bad about my oath! Too bad about the honour of the McBotts!’
He raised his head to look at the stars, smiled and went off to the stern rail with a determined tread. He had hardly turned his back when Malva opened her eyes. She had heard everything he said.
‘If we’re still alive at the end of this voyage, Captain, who knows what I’ll decide?’ she murmured.
And she went to sleep again, a smile on her lips, holding Orpheus’s jacket close to her heart.
Finopico was standing at the helm. He had put a storm lantern down on a chest beside him, and an open book lay under it, its pages fluttering in the wind. As he steered the Fabula he was reading with great interest, so absorbed in the book that he didn’t see Orpheus coming.
‘Learning new recipes?’ the latter asked.
Finopico jumped. Then his face lit up.
‘It’s like a miracle to see you up and about, Captain! We thought your last hour had come, but the Archont may come back.’
‘I hope not,’ replied Orpheus cheerfully. ‘I trust that by now he’s drowned and the fish are feeding on him.’
With these words he cast a glance at the book that Finopico had placed on the chest. It was one of the many works about fish that the cook collected.
‘But I’m disturbing you in the middle of your reading,’ Orpheus apologised. ‘If you like I can …’
Finopico shrugged, and closed the book. ‘I was passing the time, that’s all. The sea is so calm tonight.’
Orpheus sat down on the chest and said nothing for a moment, enjoying the soft air and the slight pitching of the Fabula. Everyone was asleep, and there was no particular danger on the horizon.
‘This is exactly how I always imagined a night at sea,’ he sighed. ‘I’ve dreamed of such moments for so long.’
‘But you have the sea in your blood, don’t you?’ Finopico asked. ‘Why did you wait so long before going on board a ship?’
Orpheus felt his heart contract, and bit his lip. ‘It’s a long story,’ he murmured. ‘I don’t think the time to tell it has yet come.’
Finopico, both hands on the tiller, nodded gravely before saying, ‘It doesn’t matter now. You’ve given plenty of proof of your courage, and no one will ever call you Greenhorn again. I’ll make sure of that.’
Orpheus looked sideways at him. His mop of red hair, his angular and nervous face … the cook wasn’t such a bad sort after all.
‘I’m really sorry that Zeph ate your chicken on the day of the audience with the Coronador,’ he said.
‘Oh, forget the chicken!’ laughed Finopico. ‘That’s ancient history too. Anyway, I’m more interested in fish than poultry.’
‘Can I look?’ asked Orpheus, pointing to the book.
The cook allowed him to leaf through it by the light of the lantern. All the pages had engravings of strange-looking marine creatures; these illustrations accompanied texts describing the habits of the fish and giving information about the seas where they could be caught. The stamp of the Maritime Institute of Galnicia was on the first page.
‘My word, you stole it!’ said Orpheus in surprise.
‘I borrowed it,’ Finopico corrected him. ‘That’s all.’
‘What about the others? All the books in your galley?’
‘I borrowed them too. The few galniks I’m paid as wages don’t allow me to buy books like those. I’ll return them once we’re back.’
Orpheus shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose anyone has missed them. Who’d be interested in those monsters?’
‘You’re wrong there, Captain! Many Galnician scientists are passionately interested in rare fish. There’s even a special scientific committee which regularly sends expeditions out to all the seas of the Known World.’
‘You ought to offer them your services,’ Orpheus suggested. ‘It seems to me you know all about the subject.’
&
nbsp; The cook looked piqued. ‘I did approach the scientific committee several times. But the top brass at the Institute didn’t take me seriously, though I’ve gone diving in all sorts of places, and even brought back some interesting specimens. However, I’m only a cook, you see. I don’t have any higher education.’
That reminded Orpheus of the day when he had first seen Finopico outside the Institute itself. He remembered hearing him complain about scientists with their moustaches; now he knew why he resented them.
‘That’s not fair,’ said Orpheus. ‘Why would you need diplomas and grand-sounding titles?’
‘That’s what I think too,’ replied Finopico. ‘But I still hope to convince those fine gentlemen the scientists. Here, take a look at page 243 …’
Orpheus found the page.
‘See that engraving at the bottom, on the right?’
‘The big fish with its jaws open?’
‘According to the author that fish doesn’t exist. He says it’s just a legend invented by the ancient seamen of Polvakia. A mythical beast.’
Orpheus read aloud the brief text printed in a box under the engraving.
‘ “GHOOM OF THE DEEPS, n. So called by the crew of a Polvakian vessel coming back from an expedition to the Orniant. According to them, the creature measures between five and ten metres and has a double set of pointed teeth. Smooth in appearance, with a translucent skin, the Ghoom is also said to have two separate tails. It is claimed to have been sighted several sea-miles offshore, at a place where the sea is so deep that it has no bed. No other evidence.”’
‘There,’ said Finopico, cheerfully, ‘what about that, Captain? Don’t you think the Ghoom deserves our attention?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Orpheus rather doubtfully.
Finopico pursued the subject eagerly. ‘If only I could find the creature! If only I could bring a specimen home to Galnicia! If only I could march into the Institute, head held high, and put what they say is a mythical beast down in front of those pompous men of science! They’d have to take me seriously then.’
The Princess and the Captain Page 26
