by Carrie Ryan
Fin frowned. “On your whole body? Ouch!”
Remy jabbed him straight in the ribs. “No more questions.” The look in her eyes practically dared either one of them to speak. When they remained silent, she nodded.
“Okay, first things first: How are we supposed to sail our way through this?” She waved toward the reflections. “We’ll run into a billion mirrors and break the ship into pieces. Plus, our luck’s not exactly that great already.…”
As one, they looked to the wizard and self-proclaimed guide. He lifted a shoulder. “Last time I was here I was on foot.”
Fin rolled his eyes. “Great,” he muttered.
“Well, we better figure something out,” Remy said. “Infinite shades of infinite possibilities or whatever these things may be to you, it all looks the same from my perspective. And if we can’t move on, we’re stuck.”
“Fine,” Fin said, stalking back to the starboard side of the ship and craning his neck up, down, and around. It really was impossible to tell where one mirror ended and another began. But they had to start somewhere.
He unfocused his vision, letting it blur, searching for any gaps large enough to sail through. He thought he saw one farther right. “Go that way,” he said, pointing.
Remy narrowed her eyes at him. Or at least, he thought she did—it was hard to tell with all the wrappings covering her face. “You sure?”
No, he thought to himself. Instead he shot her his most confident smirk. “Of course,” he said. “What kind of a question is that?”
The captain glanced to Marrill, who stood on the other side of the Kraken, chewing her lip. “Half sails,” Remy called to the pirats. Several of the sails fell into place. The air around the ship may have been as still as death, but the sails overhead puffed to life. The ship began to shift forward, letting out a horrific screech as her hull scraped across the mirror they’d run aground on.
They’d gone about a dozen yards when another mirror clipped the top of the mainmast. The moonraker’s yardarm splintered. Remy let out an angry growl, aimed firmly at Fin.
“Don’t hit that,” he offered. Her look was a knife blade. “Kidding,” he muttered. “I meant, veer farther starboard.”
“No, wait!” Marrill countered. “We need to go down.”
“Why?” Fin scoffed with a shake of his head. He waved his hands behind his back in a no signal to Remy.
“So we don’t—” Marrill was cut off by a long rip of a sail caught on a mirror’s sharp corner. It was followed by exasperated squeals as pirats rushed to assess the damage. “Hit that,” she finished.
Scowling at Fin, Marrill fisted her hands on her hips. Clearly their argument from earlier still simmered between them. “Like I said,” she called to Remy, “you should dive. Dive!”
“This isn’t a submarine, Marrill.” Remy swung the wheel, and the deck tilted as the large ship slid sideways, slamming them against another mirror.
Fin lifted his eyebrows at Marrill in a not terribly subtle I told you so.
Her glower deepened. She spun back to the railing. Fin did the same. “Pull up and head straight,” she called to Remy. At the same time Fin shouted, “Make a hard turn port!”
The ship groaned. The timbers stressed as the Kraken rose and banked to the left. The hull clipped another mirror just below the forecastle, shattering a few windows along the port side. “Guys, you’re not helping!” Remy yelled.
“Down! Down!” Fin cried.
“No! Up!” Marrill shouted.
A horrible sound filled the air as the ship’s keel scraped across the face of a mirror. Fin threw his hands in the air and spun to face Marrill. They both started in on each other.
“What are you—”
“I know what I’m—”
“Doing!”
“Let me—”
“Why don’t you just—”
“Finish!”
“I’m telling you—”
“Seriously, though—”
Something shifted in the corner of Fin’s vision. He turned his head just in time to see a massive mirror looming directly in their path. Marrill must have seen the same thing because her eyes grew huge. They glanced at each other, their argument immediately forgotten.
“UP!” they both cried at once.
Remy didn’t hesitate. Fin felt his entire body grow heavy as the deck lifted, the force of their climb almost flattening him. He let out a long breath as the keel cleared the mirror.
“Should I go to my cabin, or are you about done killing us?” Serth asked, inspecting his fingernails.
Fin sneered, though mostly it was due to his injured pride. At least the Naysayer wasn’t on deck to join the heckling.
“You could help, you know,” Marrill snapped at the wizard.
Serth merely lifted a shoulder. “Meh.”
She caught Fin’s eye, and they shared a moment of mutual exasperation before turning back to the navigation. Up ahead and to the left, a clear break emerged between the mirrors. “Go that way!” Fin called. He thrust his finger in the air, and the ship tilted toward it.
But as they grew closer, the gap shifted and narrowed. No way they were going to make it through.
Before he could shout a warning, Marrill yelled, “Starboard, fifteen degrees.” The ship shifted, and they soared between the two mirrors with barely any room to spare.
Fin grinned at her. “Nice one, Marrill.”
She smiled back. “It was an optical illusion. You just couldn’t see it from your perspective.”
Suddenly, it hit him. He couldn’t see it—he’d been looking at it all wrong. “That’s it!” he said, snapping his fingers. “It’s all about perspective! What I see from my angle is completely different from what you see from your angle.”
Her eyes widened with understanding. “Of course. And if we work together—”
“We can navigate through the Mirrorweb!” he finished. They beamed at each other.
“That’s great and all, but—” Remy was cut off by the screeching splintering of another yardarm as they sideswiped a mirror.
“Port thirty degrees,” Marrill called from her side of the ship. “Down about eight o’clock.”
Remy spun the wheel. The reflections in the mirrors bent and twisted as the ship dropped past them. Fin saw exactly where they were headed—and that the angle between the two mirrors made the gap look wider near the top than it really was. “Down more like seven o’clock,” he corrected.
His stomach lifted into his throat as the deck tilted and they plummeted like they were crashing down a steep wave. “Pull up and turn ten degrees port on my mark,” Marrill shouted. “Annnnnnnnnnnnnd now!”
The Kraken bottomed out and Fin cringed, waiting for a crash. But there was nothing—they slipped between the two mirrors with room to spare. Marrill laughed, and Fin realized she was right. This was kind of fun, now that they were getting the hang of it.
He’d forgotten how well they worked together.
Remy called for full sails as Fin and Marrill continued shouting directions. The ship gained speed, the images on the mirrors blurring as the Kraken sped past. They slipped in and around, up and over, under and behind endless mirrors. Some were larger than mountains, others smaller than Fin’s pinkie.
“It’s incredible,” he said.
Serth nodded. “And every single one of them represents a possibility.” He stood at the bow, arms folded, staring out at the flashing images. “A different life. A separate destiny. A thing that could be.”
Maybe somewhere in this web, Fin thought, he wasn’t a Fade. Maybe somewhere he was remembered by everyone he met. Maybe his mother was still alive, and she hadn’t abandoned him, and he still lived with her. Maybe in a cottage by the sea.
But then, even if that mirror did exist, even if that possibility was out there, it didn’t matter. Not really. Could be or might have been; if they didn’t stop the Master, every single possibility would turn to iron.
His jaw clenched, som
e of the fun leaching out of the adventure. Up ahead, their path narrowed to a gap. It looked, from his perspective, wide enough for them to slip through. He pointed it out to Remy, who slowed the ship as they glided toward it. Marrill didn’t call for them to change course, so he shifted his attention to the next obstacle.
And was completely blindsided when the Kraken slammed into a mirror, catching the edge of it with the starboard bow not three feet from where Marrill stood. The deck buckled, the dullwood groaning in protest as the ship ground to a halt. Everyone was thrown from their feet.
On instinct, Fin tucked and rolled, popping back up almost instantly. He shot a look toward Remy, who was using the wheel to pull herself up. Serth floated for a moment just off the deck, before settling down again. Marrill, meanwhile, had pushed herself to her hands and knees. Beside her the railing was splintered, resting against the unyielding surface of a mirror.
Fin had no idea how they’d managed to crash into it. There was no way Marrill could have missed it, and he had no idea why she hadn’t steered them away.
“Marrill, you okay?” he asked, jogging over to her. She didn’t seem to hear him as she pushed herself to standing. When he reached her, her eyes were glazed, glistening with tears. His heart seized. “Marrill, are you hurt?”
She raised a trembling finger to the mirror. A woman moved within the glass. An older woman, but with features that were undeniably familiar.
“Fin,” Marrill whispered. “It’s my mom.”
CHAPTER 13
The Woman in the Glass
Marrill had recognized her immediately, though she looked different than she’d ever seen her. The laugh lines around her eyes were deeper set, her skin papery thin and creased with soft wrinkles. Her white hair was tucked up in a loose scarf with a few wisps drifting across her face in the soft breeze. She sat on a bench outside what looked like a museum, and she was smiling, her hands clasped tight against her chest as she tilted her head back in a laugh.
It was Marrill’s mother. Alive. Healthy. Old.
Beside her sat Marrill’s father, also much, much older than when Marrill had left them. He held a book, and his eyes twinkled as he read aloud from it. Then he paused and glanced up. Marrill couldn’t see what had caught his attention, but he stood, grinning widely. Her mom opened her arms, beckoning someone Marrill couldn’t see to come in for a hug.
That’s when Marrill knew. It was her. Marrill herself. Right there, just out of sight.
Her eyes blurred with tears, and her knees wobbled, threatening to collapse. It was all so perfect. So beautiful. Her heart almost burst with the desire for it to be real. She reached out, desperate to brush her fingers against the scene. But her touch hovered millimeters above it. Because she knew all she’d feel would be glass, and it would be proof that this possibility was beyond her reach. She couldn’t bear that.
A pang of longing splintered in her heart, so sharp it was practically physical. Beside her, Fin shifted. Marrill swiped tears from her eyes as she turned to him. “It’s my mom,” she said again, almost choking on the word. She could see the heartbreak and sympathy in his eyes. The sorrow.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
Didn’t he understand, though? There was nothing to be sorry about. A laugh bubbled inside her, and she let it escape. “Fin,” she said, “this is great news! It means my mother is still alive! She’s… healthy.”
“In this possibility, at least,” Serth said quietly, coming up behind them.
Marrill’s eyes drifted back to the mirror, greedily taking in the image of her mom as an old woman. “How do I make it real?” she asked.
“It can be done,” the wizard told her. “With a great deal of effort, possibilities can become realities.” A touch of reverence entered his voice. “That’s what magic is all about.”
Next to her, Fin chuckled. “Wow, look at you.”
She shot him a glare, but he wasn’t looking at her. Not here her, anyway. Instead he was craning his head, spinning slowly as he took in the mirrors around the ship. “Is that a two-eyed Karnelius as a kitten?” he asked, pointing.
She looked up. Sure enough, in a small mirror off to her left, a tiny orange kitten lounged on its back in a sun patch. As she watched, he stretched, back toes curling and arms stretching far overhead. With a mrrrrp he yawned, both eyes going wide as though surprised by the size of it.
She’d recognize Karnelius anywhere, but she’d never known him this young. Beside him, in another mirror, he bounded around her parents’ bedroom, both eyes still intact but sporting a bobbed tail.
“Look at you!” Remy squealed. “So cute with pigtails!” The babysitter was looking at a mirror showing Marrill dancing with a baby chimpanzee. In the background a sign read BANTON PARK LIVE-IN ANIMAL RESCUE RESERVE AND PLAYGROUND FORTRESS. It’s where she’d been planning to go before her mother got sick again, forcing them to stay in Arizona.
Marrill peered at this alternate self. She seemed happy, definitely. But there was still a small spark of loneliness in her eyes that she’d never realized was there. If they’d gone to the Banton Park Animal Rescue Reserve, she realized, she’d have never found her way onto the Pirate Stream. She’d have never met Fin, never found a best friend.
She shook her head, clearing the thought. Her eyes drifted back to the mirror with her mom as an old woman. A healthy old woman.
Remy touched her arm lightly. “Marrill, honey, we have to keep moving.”
Marrill shook her hand off. “Wait, just a minute longer.” The splintered railing pressed into her hips as she leaned against it, trying to get as close as possible to the scene in the mirror. As though she could somehow fall in and become a part of it.
After another moment, Fin cleared his throat. “Marrill—”
“Just hold on,” she snapped.
The silence behind her was strained, but she didn’t care. This might be the last chance she ever got to see her mother alive and healthy. To watch the laugh lines around her eyes crinkle, to experience the love in her smile. Tears blurred her vision. She swiped them away, wanting nothing to mar the perfect scene unfolding in the reflection.
But even after drying her eyes, the image of her mother appeared dull, blurred along the edges. The color seemed to drain away. The trees that had been blooming so brilliantly in the background grew limp, leaching to a monochromatic gray.
She pulled the hem of her shirt over her hand, leaning forward to wipe at the mirror’s surface, thinking that maybe she’d gotten too close—that she’d smudged it or her breath had fogged it.
Just before she touched the mirror, long fingers wrapped around her elbow. “Don’t touch it,” Serth commanded, pulling her away.
She whirled on him, blood raging hot. But the words died in her throat when she saw the dead certainty in his black eyes. Saw the terror on Fin’s face beside him. Saw Remy standing frozen, staring toward the stern.
A horrible feeling seeped into Marrill’s stomach. In the distance, back where they’d come from, the Mirrorweb had grown darker. The light that had once blazed within the lush jungle behind them had dimmed.
Turning dull. Gray.
Marrill’s heart froze. Not dull, she realized. Metallic.
The Iron Tide.
“I do not know if the Tide can take us in here,” Serth said, “but I strongly suggest we not find out. Captain?”
Remy jolted into action, sprinting toward the quarterdeck, shouting, “Full sail, now!”
Serth waved a hand, and an unfelt wind filled the sails. Tackle squealed as the Ropebone Man tightened the lines. The Kraken began to shift, her hull shuddering as she scraped against the mirror beside them.
The mirror with Marrill’s mom.
Already they were pulling away. “Wait!” Marrill wasn’t ready to say good-bye. Not yet.
“I’m sorry, Marrill,” Fin said, “but we don’t have time.”
She glanced back at the oncoming Tide. It washed across the mirrors behind them, coating ev
erything with metal. Turning whole worlds to iron. Erasing possibilities.
Soon it would erase her mother—erase the possibility of Marrill saving her.
No! This was what Marrill had come to the Stream to find! This was why she’d stayed to fight the Master in the first place, instead of going home when she’d had the chance. If the Iron Tide took this mirror, then everything she’d done had been for nothing.
Another groan echoed from the bowels of the ship. The railing along the mirror splintered even more as the ship strained forward.
“I think there’s a gap up there,” Fin called to Remy, pointing. Marrill didn’t even bother looking. She couldn’t take her eyes off her mother. Even though the mirror had begun to tarnish around the edges. Even though the sky in the world had shifted from a deep blue to a menacing gray. Even though red lightning rippled through clouds as they closed in fast.
Marrill’s heart screamed. The Kraken had started to inch forward, forcing Marrill to shuffle along the railing to stay with the reflection of her mother. She couldn’t leave it—she wasn’t ready to say good-bye. She wanted to pry the mirror from the web and carry it with her. If only there was some way to cut it free!
“Hold on!” Remy called. Without Marrill and Fin to help navigate, the Kraken banked against another mirror, and the deck listed hard to port. Fin grabbed Marrill as they stumbled to keep their balance. Their legs tangled and something solid whacked against her knee with a crack.
She winced, and when she looked to see what had struck her, she noticed the glass sheath at his hip.
Her eyes widened. The Evershear. A blade that could cut anything. Of course!
She acted before she even thought about it. She reached for the bone handle. Fin yelped, leaping back as she drew the blade free. She could hear the sails billowing, feel the ship gaining speed. The mirror with her mom was sliding away.
Marrill raced down the length of the ship after it. She was almost at the stern when she caught up. Already the Iron Tide had crept into the frame. It oozed in the distance behind her mother, seeping toward her.
The blade practically sung as Marrill swung it through the air.
