by Carrie Ryan
“Then hurry up!” Fig shouted back.
Fin flew down the passage beneath the fountain, quickly catching up to the others and bolting past to lead the way. Ahead, the tunnel made an abrupt turn, and he zipped around it, crashing headfirst into Bull Face.
“Oh, hey, I got your waaaaaah!” The big Meressian shrieked, stumbling backward, throwing a string of what looked like jewels in the air. Fin regained his balance easily and reached up to snag them.
Serth beat him to it, snatching them and shoving them into a hidden pocket in his robes. “Thanks so much,” the wizard said, grabbing the candle from Bull Face’s other hand as he pushed past.
“Run, run!” Hedgecaw cried, bringing up the rear.
Together they raced through the passage as it curved and arced downward. They skidded around corners and slid down ramps, and then all of a sudden the corridor opened up into walls of glass.
“Whoa,” Fin breathed. He paused for just one moment to take it in. They stood at the top of a broad open spiral. Its walls and floors were made of stained glass. He could see out to the underside of the fortress above and the dangling circle of Stream moat below. Throughout the spiral, inside and out, a hundred different boxes dangled from the base of the fortress by long chains. Each, he imagined, containing some artifact of the Prophecy.
“Whoa,” Marrill echoed next to him. But she was pointing up. Overhead, a dull blotch formed on the bottom of the Citadel and began spreading outward. The Iron Tide was coming.
“Move!” Hedgecaw shouted from behind them.
They sped down the glass spiral, the Tide swallowing everything above as it ate its way toward them. They had a head start, but the Tide spread in all directions. They had to run around and around, while it could just ooze straight down. It would catch them, eventually.
They needed a new strategy. Fin ground to a halt, ignoring the grunts of Fig and Marrill almost colliding in an effort to avoid plowing into him.
“Fin,” Marrill hissed, “what are you doing?” She grabbed his arm, tugging him forward.
But he held his ground, scanning their surroundings. Through the window he saw the Kraken circling in the moat below. If there was anything he’d learned as the Master Thief of the Khaznot Quay, it was that sometimes you had to make your own escape route.
His eyes skipped across the long chains and their display boxes strung throughout the glass spiral. An idea snapped into place. “We need a chain that lines up with the Kraken,” he shouted. Without asking why, Fig and Marrill both started craning their necks, searching.
“Over here!” Fig yelled a moment later. “Check it,” she said, pointing. “It goes all the way down.”
She gave him a big smile. Fin felt oddly warm. It was nice having someone like himself around.
He gripped the Evershear tightly, sliding it from its sheath and making sure to keep the blade away from his body.
Then he slashed it through the air, ker-snick, ker-scnak! A pane of glass dropped away, falling into the darkness of the chasm below. All they needed to do was slip through the hole, grab the chain, and slide down to the Kraken. They’d have to be quick about it, though—the Iron Tide was already spreading along the chains themselves.
“Okay,” he said with a grin, carefully resheathing the Evershear. “Who goes first?”
One by one, they shimmied down the chain, then swung to the ship. Serth went first, since he could save himself if the chain ended up breaking, then Marrill, then the two Meressians—mainly because they forgot about Fin and Fig and cut ahead of them in the line.
Then it was just the two of them. Fin grabbed the chain, readying himself for the leap. It occurred to him that as awful as all of this was, he’d really enjoyed having a partner in crime. “You know,” he said, “before Marrill, I didn’t know what it was like to have a friend. Now I have two, and… well…”
He felt himself blushing. He still hadn’t gotten used to this “being genuine” stuff.
“Me too,” Fig said, grinning wide. “Now go!”
A minute later, Fin hit the deck of the Kraken with a flourish. “Tralada!” he declared as he landed. “Day saved, again. Naysayer, add that one to my score.”
“Oh yeah,” the big lizard grunted, repositioning Karny on his shoulder. “Let me just find my some-kid-barely-manages-to-not-get-us-all-killed scoreboard… and yep, that puts you at four who gives a clam, a dead tie with whatsername.”
“Also a bit premature,” said Fig’s voice. Fin looked up. Standing on the quarterdeck next to a visibly furious Remy was Fig’s Rise, Karu. Serth and the Meressians surrounded her, but for some reason, none of them moved.
“You’re a clever little Fade, I’ll give you that,” Karu pronounced. “But you should know you can’t outsmart the Rise. We’re the better parts of you, if you recall. And now we have you.”
She held up one hand. Cradled in it, dull and glinting, was a shard of iron. Fin let out a breath. That was why no one was doing anything.
“You brought the Iron Tide,” he said.
Karu laughed. It wasn’t as bad as Vell’s, but it didn’t sound quite natural, either. “It would have come on its own,” she said. “The only thing that can stand against it”—she swept an arm down and across herself—“is the power of the Salt Sand King.”
“Now,” she said to all of them, “where is my Fade?”
“Right here!” Fig shouted from above. Fin looked up. Fig was halfway down the chain. She’d pulled the other half up and held the end in her right hand. Then she let go with her left.
The chain swung down past Fin, Fig at the tip of it. She swooped over the deck, flying wildly.
Not wildly, Fin realized. Dead on course.
“Fig, no!” he cried.
But there was nothing to be done. Fig slammed into Karu, snatching her Rise up and carrying both of them off the Kraken. Fin’s heart skipped a beat. Everyone raced to the side of the ship, watching the twins twirling together out in the air.
For a moment, just a moment, all eyes were on forgettable Fig.
“This is childish!” Karu shrieked. “You can’t stop me, Sister Fade!”
Fig caught Fin’s eye as they spun around, heading on an arc back toward the Kraken.
“I don’t need to stop you.” She grabbed Karu’s hand, prying at the piece of iron in her fingers.
Fin gaped in horror. “Fig, no!” he screamed again.
But it was too late. The Iron Tide had reached her. It crawled up Fig’s arm, across her back, over her. In moments, she was gone.
“Sail, Captain, sail!” Serth commanded, begging the wind with his hands. The ship lurched forward, just in time to dodge the end of the chain with its deadly cargo.
Karu shrieked once, then shrieked again, struggling to jump free. But she remained clutched in Fig’s iron-coated arms. The silver that had streaked the side of her face spread out, covering her. There was no escape. Her Fade was gone now. Karu was mortal. Immune to the Iron Tide no more.
Fin’s heart caught in his throat as the Kraken set sail. Ahead, Serth guided the ship toward an eddy that would dump them back onto the Stream. Ahead was salvation. Ahead was the path to the Master. Ahead was the way to put a halt to this creeping doom.
But behind them, the screams had stopped. There was nothing left, save for two statues dangling at the end of a very long iron chain.
CHAPTER 7
Without a Flame
That evening, rust red flecked the gold surface of the Stream. Clouds stretched like veils across the drowning sun. And for the second time in as many days, Marrill stood next to Fin, consoling him over the loss of someone he cared about. She grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.
“This is starting to be a habit,” Fin said. “One I really don’t like.” His voice broke, giving away the deep pain his flippant words were struggling to hide.
Marrill couldn’t have agreed more. They’d lost too many friends. And with this one, she didn’t know what to say. She hadn’t really known
Fig, after all.
It was hard to really know someone you couldn’t remember.
“Hey,” she said, thinking back to the last time they’d been in this position. “Remember what Fig said before? Maybe the Iron Tide isn’t forever.”
Fin eyed her suspiciously. “Hold up a tick. You remember Fig?”
“Of course I do,” Marrill declared automatically. Then she laughed as the reality of what she’d just said sank in. She hadn’t even thought about it—Fig had slipped into her mind just as easily as she used to slip out of it. “She saved our lives,” Marrill told him. “How could I ever forget that?”
“Huh,” Fin said. He nodded, once, twice to himself. “Worse comes to worst, she’ll be remembered.”
“No doubt.”
For the first time since leaving the Citadel, he smiled. “Well,” he said, “maybe that alone is enough.” But his eyes fell back to the light playing on the golden water. “She was a good friend,” he added softly. “To both of us.”
“She was,” Marrill agreed. “And thanks to her, we’ve got the Evershear. And Serth’s stuff. And now that we’ve dropped off Hedgecaw and Bull Face, all we have left is a little light time travel before we’re able to stop the Master of the Iron Ship.” She nudged him with her elbow and smirked. “We’re practically done already.”
Unfortunately, her attempt to lighten Fin’s spirits didn’t work. He shook his head sadly. “What if we can’t? What if the Iron Tide is irreversible? What if everyone it’s taken, all those worlds… what if they’re just gone forever, like all the things the Lost Sun destroyed?”
Marrill couldn’t think about it. Wouldn’t. Otherwise, the fear would paralyze her. She shook the doubt from her head and plastered a smile on her face. “Look, Ardent said the Pirate Stream is pure, endless possibility, right? Which means that somewhere out there is the possibility that we stop the Tide and fix everything. Right?”
“Sure.” He wasn’t very sincere. But clearly he wanted to believe it just as much as Marrill did. And she needed him to.
She grabbed the idea and ran with it. “So there’s definitely magic in the Pirate Stream more powerful than the Iron Tide.”
Uncertainty coiled in Fin’s eyes. “How do you know?”
She leaned forward. “Because if the Iron Tide were all-powerful, it could take the Rise. It could stop the Salt Sand King.”
Fin straightened suddenly. His eyes widened. “Marrill, you’re right! The Salt Sand King was alive, even after being turned to iron.…”
“So Fig might be, too!” Excitement flooded through Marrill. She hadn’t actually expected to come up with a good answer, but the more she talked, the more she began to believe. “And not just Fig—everyone and everything else touched by the Tide as well.”
“The Parsnickles.” Fin’s voice cracked. “And the Khaznot Quay.”
Marrill nodded. “If the magic of the Stream can protect the Rise and the Salt Sand King, then it must be able to reverse the Iron Tide, too.” She smiled at him. “We can still save them.”
The next thing Marrill knew, she was wrapped up in a huge hug.
“I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again,” Fin whispered in her ear. “Marrill, you’re a genius.”
Marrill laughed. Together they rocked with the force of the moment. It was amazing. The Iron Tide really could be stopped and its damage reversed. And they were on their way to do it.
But later that night, as Marrill lay in bed with the walls around her shimmering with starlight filling an infinite sky, she couldn’t keep the doubts from creeping back in. She’d stayed on the Stream because she was determined to find a way to make her mom well again. And if the possibility existed that she could fix the Stream, then the possibility had to exist that she could fix her mom as well. Didn’t it?
Even if those possibilities existed, though, what were the odds of both happening? Even if she and Fin did fix the Stream, even if they did undo the Iron Tide’s damage, she still might not find a way to make her mom healthy.
Marrill rolled onto her side, pulling Karny tight and burying her head in the fur of his neck. She squeezed her eyes against the burn of tears. She missed her mom. And she was terrified that she might never see her again.
The next morning, it was hard to believe the Iron Tide existed at all. The sky above was an arc of blue. The Stream was shimmering gold, laid out before them like the yellow brick road. Overhead, sails snapped in the wind, and the deck swayed softly beneath their feet, rhythmically rocking as the Kraken cut through gentle waves.
The Naysayer sat in his usual spot at the stern, simultaneously fishing for prollycrabs, tending the rumor vines, and petting Karny. Remy stood by the wheel, stifling a yawn while Marrill and Fin perched on the forecastle railing, kicking their feet in the breeze and watching the horizon for signs of their destination.
Not that any of them had any clue what they were looking for. None of them knew what their destination actually was. Serth had been just as cryptic about this stop as he’d been about the last one.
But now that they had the Evershear, it was on to step two of their plan: time travel. Marrill had no idea how that was even possible. And Serth hadn’t bothered leaving his cabin since they’d fled the Citadel, so she hadn’t been able to ask him.
“If we can go back in time, why not just go back early enough to stop all of this?” Marrill wondered aloud to Fin. “Keep Serth from drinking the Stream water. Stop Annalessa from turning into Rose. Keep the Master from…” She waved a hand in the air.
Just then, the door to Ardent’s cabin burst open, startling them all. Karny bolted from the Naysayer’s lap, darting down the stairs and past Serth’s feet as he strolled onto the deck.
“Not possible,” said Serth, stretching as though he’d just woken from a nap.
Marrill and Fin exchanged a confused glance. “What isn’t possible?” she asked.
“What you just said about stopping me from drinking Stream water.” He didn’t even bother glancing her way. “Prophecy is inevitable. Even if you changed that one moment, the Prophecy would still come true. Somehow, some way.”
Marrill frowned. “But how did you hear what I was say—”
He didn’t wait for her to finish before he strode past them toward the bow, effectively dismissing her question. Serth, Marrill was learning, wasn’t one to continue conversations that no longer interested him.
He seemed to reach an arbitrary point on the deck and stopped, looking around. “Almost there, I see,” he pronounced.
Marrill nearly dropped the chunk of potatofish she’d been gnawing for the last hour. There wasn’t a single object between the Kraken and the horizon. No ships, no islands. Not even a sign, like there’d been for the Khaznot Quay. Things had a way of popping up on the Pirate Stream, but usually there was some indication that you were somewhere.
“Almost where, exactly?” she asked.
“Nowhere exactly,” he told her. “Here, more or less.” He took two steps across the deck, looked down at his feet, licked a finger and tested the wind, then took a long, deep sniff of the air. “Captain,” he called, “take us two degrees to starboard.”
Remy nudged the wheel wordlessly. Marrill took the opportunity to ask the question she hadn’t been able to ask the last time Serth showed his face. “Speaking of time travel,” she tried again, “how exactly is it possible to, you know… travel back in time?”
Serth held out an arm, twisting slowly until his shadow lined up. “Time is just another current on the Stream,” he explained. “Slow and strong—so strong, in fact, it is virtually impossible to fight against. But a current nonetheless. With enough strength, and the right line, one can travel upstream.”
Remy’s ears seemed to perk up with that. “So it’s a navigational challenge?”
He looked over at her sharply. “No.”
She scowled. Fin swallowed a laugh.
“Besides,” Serth continued with a dismissive wave of his hand, “there’s no pos
sible way you and I could ever hope to muster enough power to actually follow a current of time upstream. It’s essentially unheard of.”
“Oh.” Marrill slumped. So time travel was technically possible, it just wasn’t something they could do. “So how are we…”
“We’ll cheat,” Serth said simply.
Fin straightened. “Now you’re speaking my language.” He slipped from the railing and sauntered across the deck. “What’re we talking here, the old loopty-eyeballs trick? The nottaday-nottamarra head fake? A salmon drop with a Webonese switch?” He snapped his fingers. “I got it: the Manomarion tea party. Point me at the mark and let’s go!”
Serth’s eyebrow twitched, but he said nothing. Instead he turned to Remy. “Another two degrees if you will, Captain.” From where they were standing, Marrill could just make out the unhappy curl of Remy’s lip as Serth directed her.
“We cannot possibly muster the power to travel back through time. But with both the Lost Sun and Pirate Stream at his fingertips, the Master has already done exactly that,” the wizard continued. “If time is a current, think of the Master as one of those massive ships we so deftly navigated around two days back, just smashing its way across the Stream. What did those create?”
He waited patiently, like a schoolteacher calling on a student. It reminded her of Ardent. Marrill wondered if it was a trick they learned in wizard school.
She pondered his question. The ships hadn’t created much of anything, other than a huge mess, and very nearly a wreck. She closed her eyes, visualizing the ships crashing toward the Kraken. She could practically feel how the deck pitched wildly as they passed.
Then it came to her.
“A wake,” she declared, remembering how the two big ships had dragged Stavik’s ship along with them.
Serth nodded. The hint of a smile played across his lips. “Precisely,” he said. “Another two degrees, Captain!” He looked down at Marrill as the Kraken changed course, so slightly she could barely tell. “That’s exactly where we’re headed. To a place where we can catch the Master’s wake through time.” He frowned at Remy. “I said two degrees, not one and three-quarters. Where did you learn to pilot a ship?”
