“Something has happened to you,” says Conor grimly.
“I should never have gone down there,” mutters Gloria.
“Can you get up if Saph and I help you? Your crutches are here. We’ll get you back home, it’s not far.”
“But, Conor!” I burst out. I can’t go back again. We’re more than halfway to Ingo. The pull has become so strong my whole body is possessed by it.
“We’ve got to, Saph.”
Gloria is moving. Slowly, painfully, she rolls over and struggles up on to her knees. She waits, gathering strength.
“Maybe we should get Richard. If you’ve damaged your leg any more you’ll need a stretcher,” says Con.
“No!” says Gloria. “He mustn’t see me like this. Help me up.” One on each side, we support Gloria under her arms and help her up. Her clothes are soaked with water. She smells of the sea.
“What happened?” asks Conor.
“I thought – thought someone was calling me. Into the water. Don’t know how I got down there … found the way somehow. I think I was on the rocks … A wave came over me and then I was afraid.” Her voice drops to a whisper. I lean close. “There was something in the water that hated me,” I hear her say.
I feel both horror and relief. Gloria hasn’t been to Ingo. Her Mer blood must be strong enough to take her to the gateway, but not to allow her to enter Ingo alone. There was no Faro there to guide her. What if she had gone into the water and found Mortarow there – or Ervys?
I thought Granny Carne was protecting Gloria and keeping her safe on the Earth. It must be the Call that is making Ingo so powerful tonight. No one would have seen Gloria go. No one would have missed her, until Richard came home. Gloria might have been found days later, washed up miles down the coast. No one would ever guess what really happened. They’d say it was a terrible accident.
“You must never do that again,” I say protectively. I can help Conor take her back to her cottage. It will only delay us for a few minutes, and what does time mean tonight anyway? Soon we’ll be in Ingo time, and human clocks will mean nothing.
“Got to get home – Richard …” mutters Gloria, sounding like an exhausted child rather than the strong woman I know she is.
Slowly, step by step, we get Gloria home. She is shivering with shock and cold, but it’s not far. The air is still but I feel as if I’m pushing into a strong wind with the effort of turning my back on Ingo. Their rented cottage is only a couple of hundred metres from ours. I don’t even glance at our cottage. I don’t want to see if the gulls are on the roof, or if one of them is flying off to deliver the message to Ervys that Gloria has survived. I remember Faro’s words. They don’t want peace, they want war, and victory.
Gloria’s cottage is dark. “Thank God, he’s not back yet.”
We push open the unlocked door. A wave of warmth enfolds us. Conor switches on the light, while Gloria slumps into a chair by the stove. “You need a hot shower,” I tell her.
“In a minute.” She opens her eyes, reviving. For the first time she cracks a faint smile.
“We’ll stay with you until Richard comes home,” says Conor.
“No! He’ll know something’s wrong if he sees you.”
To be here in Gloria’s cottage is torture. Faro is waiting for us. The Call is dragging at me. The time is now. But Gloria is cold, wet, weak. People die of hypothermia.
“We’re not going until you’ve had a hot shower and got into warm clothes,” I say decisively.
Their shower is downstairs. Gloria moves slowly but she seems stronger now she’s in her own place. I wait outside the door, listening to be sure that she’s all right. I hear the shower running, and after a few minutes Gloria comes out wrapped in a blue dressing gown. Conor brings her tea and she settles herself by the stove again, in the opposite chair because the first one she sat in is damp with sea-water.
“I’ll be all right now.” Gloria is an adult again, competent and calm.
“Promise me you won’t ever—” I begin, then stop. I don’t think I have any right to ask Gloria for promises. But she looks straight back as if she understands exactly what I mean.
“Never again,” she says. “Never, ever again.”
It’s safe to leave her now. As we close the cottage door and turn away down the track we see headlights bumping down off the main road. Richard is on his way home.
“He’ll look after her,” says Conor.
“Yes.”
“They should move,” Conor goes on angrily. “He should get her right away from here.”
I have nothing to say. I want Gloria to be safe. But denying her Mer blood isn’t going to make her safe, not for ever. There has got to be another way. Not Ervys’s way, with Mer and human battling and Ingo and Earth deadly enemies.
CHAPTER SEVEN
The cove is brimful of tide. No jumping down from the rocks on to clean pale sand tonight. “We’ll have to climb right out over the rocks until we’re sure we’re above deep water,” whispers Conor. I don’t know why we’re whispering, but we are, and we don’t call for Faro either. He may not be the only one of the Mer who is watching and waiting for us tonight.
The rocks are sharp and slippery. The starlight is strong enough to guide us as we lower ourselves into gullies then climb the steep rocky sides of the cove. We need to go right out, almost to the cove’s mouth. I follow Conor, reaching for handholds, and fitting my feet into the rock’s crevices. He hasn’t switched on the torch since we left Gloria Fortune’s cottage.
“Face the rock and let yourself go down backwards,” he whispers. “I’ll go first.” I glance down. In the starlight I can see Conor’s outline pressed against the rock. He lowers himself carefully, and then lets go and slides to the next foothold. The rock slopes at about forty degrees here. It looks dangerous. It is dangerous. If Conor slips too far he won’t fall in the water, he’ll fall on rock. But once he’s down, there’s a ledge above a sheer drop. It’ll be safe to dive from there.
“I’m down. Come on,” he calls softly.
I turn to face the rock, and press against it as Conor did. My fingers dig into a narrow crevice. I let go of my safe finger-hold and let myself slide. There’s no foothold or handhold. I scrabble desperately, my jaw cracks against the rock, I bite my tongue. But my foot jars against a spur of rock. I’m not sliding any more.
Foothold, slide. Handhold, slide. Suddenly, with a jolt, both my feet hit rock and Conor’s hand is behind my back, steadying me. “You’ve made it, Saph. You’re on the ledge. Turn round slowly.”
I shuffle my feet around cautiously, and turn to face outwards. At that moment the moon rises behind the curve of the cliff. First the rim, then the broad curve, then the whole moon floats free, lighting up the cove so brilliantly that it seems as if day has come. Below us the sea bulges, black and oily looking. There is hardly any wind, but a big swell. The water breaks as it enters the cove, slapping against the rocks with a hollow boom.
For the first time in my life I’m afraid of the sea. Even when the Tide Knot broke, the fear was different. Then, the sea came out of its bed, out of its element, and tried to take over the land. It was natural to be afraid. But this is different. It feels as if the sea is prowling below our ledge, waiting for us.
How I wish Faro would come. The fingers of my right hand have gone to my bracelet. I touch the deublek made of our woven hair. Of course Faro will come. We have to go to the Assembly chamber together.
The water is empty. No Faro. In two nights I shall be here for you. Faro has never broken his word to me. Something must have prevented him. Maybe the wound on his tail was more serious than he thought.
“It looks as if we’re going to have to find the way to the Assembly chamber ourselves. Do you think you can remember the way, Saph?”
I think of the narrow passages Faro took me through. “I’m not sure, but if we follow the Call it’s bound to take us there.”
“Can you feel the Call now?”
“Ye-ye
s, I think so.” But the truth is that I can’t. It has faded abruptly, as if the mass of rock that surrounds us is blocking out its signal.
“I can’t,” says Conor. “I’ll have to rely on you.”
What if something bad has happened to Faro? “We’ve got to get to Ingo quickly, Conor.” The water heaves beneath us. There is a path of moon on its surface. Tonight even the moonlight looks sinister.
“We’ll have to dive right out,” I say.
“Let’s dive together. I’ll count.”
I can’t get into a proper diving position because of the rock face behind me. The drop is about four metres. I’ve dived from higher points than this. My toes curl over the edge, gripping it. Diving in moonlight isn’t the same as diving in daylight. You can’t judge distance so well. If I push off as hard as I can, I’ll be all right.
“Ready, Saph? One – two – three – GO!”
We dive in the same second. I enter the water at a steep angle, down, down, down through the blackness. As soon as the sea touches me I know I’m not in Ingo. The sea is cold and hostile. I can’t breathe in it. I kick hard, swim up until I break the surface, and push my hair out of my face. I tread water, looking around. “Conor?”
“I’m here.”
We are both whispering. Rocks loom above us, the cold sea drags at us. Behind us the cliffs bulk high against the moonlight.
“Saph, swim out! Swim to the entrance of the cove! The tide is dragging us to the caves.”
He is right. I’m not swimming but the rock face is moving, gliding past me. It’s like being in a rip, but there aren’t any rips here inside the cove. I turn seawards and swim as hard as I can for the channel between the rocks.
Conor is a few metres to my left. I’m swimming with all my strength but I’m barely moving. Cold, strong water has got me in its grip. It hates me. It wants to destroy me. It will carry me to the back of the cove, smash me against the cliff, drag me into the underwater caves where no one will ever find me …
Dark despair crawls over my skin. Where is Ingo? Why wasn’t Faro here to greet us as he promised? A wave surges over my face.
“Why struggle?” says a voice which is so close that it seems to be inside my head. “Why not let go? There’s no hope of escape. If you stop fighting, it will only hurt for a little while and then it will all be over.” The words seem to echo around the cliffs and the rocks. They are waiting for me to give in. Our cove has become an enemy.
There was something in the water that hated me.
Gloria said that. She felt it too. The wave tried to get her but she escaped. She fought her way up the cliff on her crutches. Crawling up the steep, rough rock, dragging herself, dragging her crutches. Doing what no one would ever believe could be done by a woman with a shattered thigh-bone who is waiting for a hip replacement operation.
The gap between Conor and me has widened. He’s being pulled back too, but in a different direction. I kick my way as hard as I can through the hostile water. I’m not going to look at the sheer sides of the rock, bearing down on me, or at the cliffs behind. Only at my arms sweeping the water aside, and Conor’s head on my left. He’s fighting too, beating his way forward.
You must never, ever swim out of the cove, Sapphy. The currents are dangerous. Stay in the cove where it’s safe.
Dad drummed those words into me for years, but tonight I’m certain that they aren’t true. Getting out of the cove is our only hope. Once we are in the open water, then Ingo has got to come to us. Or else—
Don’t think of that. Just swim.
The feeling of hatred is growing stronger, as if whatever has possessed our cove knows that we’re about to escape it. I’m swimming as hard as I can, but my limbs are so heavy that they can hardly push the water aside.
“Saph! Look! I think – I saw Faro – out there–” Conor’s voice comes in gasps. We are both exhausted, but Faro’s name sends a pulse of hope through me. If he’s there, then Ingo is close.
A few more metres, that’s all. Those rocks aren’t really closing in on us from both sides. It’s an illusion. The thing that hates us wants to frighten us into turning back. Remember how wide the mouth of the cove really is. Remember how easily the Peggy Gordon used to sail out. It was wide – safe …
“We’re through!”
The drag on my mind and body has disappeared. I’m free. The sea buoys me up, salty and welcoming. It feels neither cold nor warm. It feels – it feels …
The surface parts, and lets me in. I swim down, and moonlit bubbles stream from my hands. I know there are no air bubbles streaming from my mouth. Down, down, down, through the live, velvety water. I catch a faint, far-off sound, like the boom of sea in a giant shell. I am in Ingo.
“Greetings, little sister.”
“Faro! Why didn’t you come?”
Faro swims close. “Speak softly. There are spies everywhere.”
Conor swims towards us. “What happened, Faro?”
“Ervys has made your cove into a Porth Cas. I could not enter it or warn you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
We are in the moonwater, and there’s enough light to see the anger on Faro’s face.
“You know that we Mer can enter each other’s thoughts, Sapphire? You know how the Mer reach decisions in the Assembly chamber, by thinking together? Ervys has taught his followers a different way of using that power. They think together and make their hatred into a weapon. It becomes like a living creature, which can be kept in one place until it grows strong enough to change the nature of that place. They have made their Porth Cas at your cove. They knew you would enter Ingo that way.”
“Couldn’t Saldowr have stopped them?”
“No. He’s at the Assembly chamber now. Ervys is trying to prevent our people from entering, and Saldowr is there to protect them.”
“Where’s Elvira?” asks Conor. “Is she all right?”
“She’s in no danger. We will see her at the Assembly chamber.”
Our people. Dad will be there among them. I am sure of it. He will come to see his own children present themselves as candidates for the Crossing of Ingo. I will see Dad there, among the ranks of the Mer. Saldowr promised it.
I can promise you that you will see your father again, and soon … at the next Assembly, when the young Mer who think they are ready to make the Crossing of Ingo will come forward … Your father will surely be there …
“Have you fallen asleep, little sister?”
“No – I’m sorry, Faro, I was just thinking—”
“You hide your thoughts from me today. Why is that?”
“Because they’re private, Faro.”
“Private! There is no yours and mine between us,” says Faro with an air of grandeur that makes him look like a prince. But there are no princes and princesses in Ingo.
It is so good to see Faro again. In spite of the dark and danger it feels like old times. Any minute now he will flip into a series of outrageously dazzling somersaults, calling, “Watch me, little sister!”
“Faro, is your tail all right?”
He shrugs. “It’s fine.” This probably means it isn’t fine at all, but Faro’s tone stops me asking any more.
“We must close our minds as we go to the Assembly chamber. You will be all right, Conor, since you open your mind to no one in Ingo.” He shoots Conor a glance which makes me think, for the first time, that perhaps Faro is disappointed by Conor’s lack of warmth towards him. It’s not that Conor doesn’t like him. I wish Faro could understand that. But Conor doesn’t entirely trust Faro, not as I do. All the same, Faro’s wrong. Conor does open his mind to one person in Ingo: Elvira, Faro’s sister. I wonder what Faro really thinks about that?
“I’m certainly not going to play mind games with Ervys or anyone else,” says Conor.
“Ervys will believe in the power of his Porth Cas,” goes on Faro, “but he may have laid other surprises for us just in case you two got into Ingo another way. And now we will surprise
him.”
“Do you think … Is he waiting around here somewhere, Faro?” I ask.
“No. He and his followers will have gone to the Assembly chamber. They want to be sure that all the young Mer who follow Ervys are accepted for the Crossing. If they can, they will stop those who follow Saldowr. But let any of the Mer dare to interfere with the Call!” Faro tosses back his hair. “They will learn what it is to break the laws of Ingo. Let them feel for themselves the hatred that they try to call down on others! Let the spear in Mortarow’s hand become the spear in Mortarow’s heart!”
“Faro!”
“What?”
“You sound so – so vengeful.”
“You have not seen my vengeance yet, little sister,” says Faro. His voice is very quiet. He is not boasting, but promising. “He tried to kill you there in the cove, with your deublek on your wrist, as you came to answer the Call of the conch. Every law of Ingo is outraged. And Conor too,” he adds quickly. Conor laughs.
“You find it funny?” demands Faro.
“Chill, Faro,” says Conor. “It was just the way you put it. I’m on Ervys’s case as much as you are.”
“Chill?”
“It’s like Give me five,” I put in quickly.
“Ah, I see! Conor, give me five!” And everything else is forgotten as they laugh and slap hands.
Excitement is building in me now. Faro’s descriptions of the Crossing glitter in my memory.
I’ve heard such stories, Sapphire! There are fish that fly and fish like rainbows and fish that walk on the floor of the sea, and whales bigger than any we see in these waters. There are lost cities too, Sapphire, which were in the
Air once and which sank down into Ingo long before our great-great-great-grandmothers went to Limina. Think of it, little sister! We are going to the bottom of the world …”
“Aren’t we supposed to be at the Assembly chamber?” I ask.
CHAPTER EIGHT
As we swim closer to the Assembly chamber we see a stream of young Mer approaching it. Faro has brought us round by the south, to my relief. I wouldn’t want to face the narrow tunnels we had to pass through last time, not after the Porth Cas. We swim easily, but I notice that Faro is not as fast as usual. Whatever Elvira put on the wound has worked well, but Faro’s tail hasn’t completely healed yet. The Call echoes in our ears like a trumpet, stirring our blood. Ingo wants us to be at the Assembly chamber. I am sure of it, whatever Ervys says.