Fin fidgeted, putting his hands in his pockets and then taking them out again, his gaze casting around the ship and landing on nothing.
“So that’s kind of a spiff trick,” he said, using his chin to nod at Rose soaring through the air. “Did I hear you mention something about a map? To everywhere? That can find anything?” He rocked back on his heels. “Sounds fascinating. Tell me more.”
Ardent couldn’t resist an invitation to engage in a lecture. “Excellent observation, young man! The history of the Bintheyr Map to Everywhere is shrouded in mystery.
“Some say it is as old as the Pirate Stream itself, and just as great,” he continued. Coll rolled his eyes. “None know who created it, and even in the very oldest stories, it was already in pieces. But each fragment is powerful beyond powerful in its own right, and each has surfaced time and again at critical points in history. For example, once there was this tribe of highly ambitious tree frogs—”
“I see, I see. Quite exciting stuff,” Fin interrupted with a charming smile. Marrill gave him a grateful glance. “And how many pieces did you say there were?” he added.
Ardent began ticking off on his fingers as he explained. “Well, first there’s the Compass Rose, which of course we now have. And then of course we’ll need the Face—you know, the bit that actually shows you things. That part is obviously fairly important. Third, there’s the Neatline, which you might know as the black line around the edge of a map. Most take that one for granted, but defining the area you’re looking at is quite critical, especially in a map to everywhere!”
He chuckled a bit, then stopped and counted his fingers again, one, two, three. “Right, three. Then fourth is the Scale for the distances and sizes and whatnot. I’m sure you can see the value in that one.”
Holding up his thumb, he concluded, “And finally there’s the Legend. Now, that part explains what everything on the Map means and unlocks its true potential. Only with the Legend, the stories all say, will the Map’s secrets ever truly be accessible. That would be the most important part, I would say. Excepting all the others.”
The optimism Marrill had been feeling since finding the Compass Rose deflated. There were still four more pieces to find—four more obstacles to her ever getting home. Plus it had taken Ardent a hundred and thirty years to find the first piece, which didn’t bode well for timeliness. A familiar anxiety took root in her stomach. “Do you have any idea where the other pieces are?”
Ardent tried to give them a reassuring grin, but it wasn’t working. Coll was the one to finally answer. “Dunno,” he said with a shrug. “That’s what the bird’s for.”
Marrill slumped against the mast, her eyes following Rose as she wheeled through the air above them, leading them farther and farther out onto the Stream. She thought about her parents, sitting at home waiting for her. “Any idea how long it will take to find them all?”
Ardent tugged on his beard. “Somewhere between three hours and five hundred years, I expect. Which is to say, no, I’m afraid not.”
Marrill’s heart fell.
Oddly, the answer didn’t seem to bother Fin in the slightest. He seemed positively chipper. “Well,” he chirped, “there’s nothing like a good, solid quest among friends, that’s what I always say. High seas, camaraderie, not throwing anyone into the brig—that’s what it’s all about, really.”
Fin’s rambling pulled Marrill from her thoughts of home. If anything, Fin seemed a bit overeager.
“And what a crew we make, right?” he continued. “All of us together, totally not here for nefarious reasons.”
She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. She thought back to all his questioning at the Quay. Had he just used her to get on the Kraken? “I thought you said you were a landlubber,” she said, raising an eyebrow.
Fin let out half of a laugh, strained and nervous. “Oh, that…” He trailed off. He cleared his throat, glancing from Ardent to Coll then back to Marrill again. “Well I do lub me some land, obviously. I just… erm… wanted to make sure you’d gotten safely aboard and all. Now that it seems you have, I can be on my way, and you can forget all about me.”
He gave her an uneasy smile and began walking backward across the deck. “By the way,” he added, “not to change the subject or to distract you or anything like that but… what in the world could that be?” He pointed sharply behind them, mouth gaping open in surprise.
Marrill spun, prepared for some new horror. But all she saw was empty water.
She turned, eyes squeezed all the way to slits now, and scanned the deck for Fin. There was no sign of him. “Where did he go?” she asked the others.
Oddly, they seemed to have drifted off into their own conversation, oblivious to what had just happened. Coll looked at her like she was the strange one. “Who?”
Marrill huffed with frustration. “Fin. He was just here next to me.”
Ardent and Coll exchanged confused glances. “Fins?” The wizard seemed to speak for both of them. “Are there piranhabats about?”
Marrill wondered, for the four billionth time today, if she was losing her mind. “You know, the boy who was standing here? Stowaway? About my height, with black hair and singed pants?”
They just shrugged, like it didn’t ring any bells. But that didn’t make sense. “He’s the one who guided me through the Quay? Got me to the docks safely? The one I just introduced you to?”
Ardent shook his head slowly, and Coll, too. Marrill’s mind spun. “Is this some kind of trick?” she asked hopefully. But she already knew from their expressions that it wasn’t. She looked around, searching the deck again. Nothing appeared out of place.
Except for Rose, preening herself peacefully atop a haphazardly coiled heap of rope. As if she could read Marrill’s thoughts, the bird looked straight at her, barked out a sharp “Caw!” and leapt into the air.
Marrill stomped across the deck, her hands curled into fists. Sure enough, there was Fin, crouched between the pile of rope and the railing. His features were carefully arranged in a mask of innocence as her shadow fell over him.
“Hello, stranger who I’ve never met before,” he said coolly.
“Not funny, Fin,” she replied, hands on her hips. “Rose gave you away.”
A tangle of emotions flashed in his eyes: excitement, confusion, then panic. “I was just…” He seemed to be scrambling for an excuse.
She didn’t want to hear it, so she nudged him with her toes. “They’re not going to be mad at you for stowing away,” she told him.
Still, Fin protested as she began dragging him across the deck. “They won’t remember me, Marrill,” he said.
She just rolled her eyes. “I found him,” she called out, pushing the boy toward Coll and Ardent. He stumbled to a stop in front of them, then straightened with a tentative smile.
They frowned in unison. “Who?”
“Told you,” he muttered under his breath.
Marrill let out a growl of frustration. “Fin! We were just talking about him, like thirty seconds ago? From the Quay? The one who helped me?”
Squinting, Ardent stepped forward to examine the boy, walking in a circle around him twice before shrugging. “Nope.” Then he looked at Marrill with a frown of concern. “By chance have you felt the urge to repeat everything people say to you, backward?”
Yesterday she’d have thought it was the oddest question she’d ever been asked. Now she wasn’t so sure. “No?”
He stepped closer. “What about the need to cluck three times before blinking your left eye?”
Marrill opened her mouth, stunned. Okay, that was the strangest question she’d ever been asked. But before she could answer, he pressed a finger against her forehead as if checking for a temperature. “Hmmm…” he murmured. “It doesn’t feel like furryflug fever.…”
“Um… what’s furryflug fever?” she asked.
“You do not want to know,” Fin whispered.
“Oh, hello!” Ardent frowned. “Look, Coll, another stowaway! Did
I forget to lock the Bilge Room again?”
Fin leaned toward Marrill. “See? They won’t remember me.”
“But you’ve been right here the whole time!” she said, balling her hands into frustrated fists. “It doesn’t make any sense. I remember you just fine!”
The amusement dancing through Fin’s expression dimmed. “No,” he said somberly. “What doesn’t make sense is that you remember me. You don’t understand—no one ever remembers me. Or notices me, really. They can’t help it; they all just forget as soon as they stop paying attention to me.”
“I don’t get it.” Marrill pressed her fingers against her temples, where a dull ache was beginning to throb. “Is it some kind of magic?”
Fin glanced down at his feet and shrugged. “Probably. I always figured it was a curse of some kind.”
“No,” Ardent said.
For a moment the ship was silent except for the creak of the deck and the sound of waves splashing against the hull. Fin grew absolutely still.
The wizard now looked straight at him. “No, young man,” he said. “Whatever’s wrong with you, there is no magic about it.”
CHAPTER 19
Without a Trace
The wizard’s words hit Fin like a punch to the gut. His entire life he’d assumed he was forgettable because of something that was done to him. Something that could be reversed.
But if it wasn’t magic and it wasn’t a curse, how could it ever be fixed?
A bitter taste rose up the back of his throat. “How do you know?” His voice quavered, but he didn’t care. All he cared about was the wizard being wrong.
“Magic leaves a trace,” the old man explained. “Like the echo of a fingerprint. If there’d been magic worked on you in the past, I’d be able to see it. Take Coll here for example.…” He gestured toward the captain.
Coll crossed his arms and glowered. “Or don’t,” he said.
Ardent cleared his throat. “Or don’t. Perhaps a story for another time. Anyway…” He turned back to Fin and frowned. “What were we talking about?”
Marrill stepped forward, her forehead pinched with concern. “You were explaining about Fin and why people forget him so easily.”
Fin tried to smile in thanks, but he was pretty sure it came across as a grimace. His lips were numb, his fingers tingling. If felt like there wasn’t enough air in the world.
“Right, right,” Ardent murmured. “There’s no trace of magic on you, young man. Even if something magical caused you to be this way long ago, no spell or curse afflicts you now. Whatever has made you the way you are, that is now the way you are.”
Fin tried to calm his roaring heart. “But if that’s just who I am”—he took a shallow breath—“then there’s no way to fix it?”
Ardent’s tone turned somber as he laid a hand softly on Fin’s back. Fin tried not to wince—he wasn’t used to attention, certainly not good attention. He didn’t know how to respond.
“You can’t fix a problem until you know what it is,” the wizard said with a look of regret on his face. “So, for now? I’m afraid not.”
It felt as though the ship had sunk underneath him. Fin’s knees went wobbly. He’d spent most of his life trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter that no one remembered him. But the truth was, more than anything else, he just wanted someone to know he was there. He had to bite his lip to keep his chin from trembling.
Tears burned his eyes and his throat tightened. He refused to cry in front of strangers, though. Especially when one of them might remember.
What he needed was to be alone.
Without saying anything more, Fin turned and ran to the hatch that led belowdecks. Marrill yelled after him, but he ignored her, racing down into the heart of the ship.
He bounded down the stairs, barely paying attention to where he was going. At any other time, the massive ship would have been a thief’s playground. He’d have taken off running, exploring, searching for treasures he could easily stuff in his pockets. But right now, none of that interested him.
He ran until he reached the bottom of the stairs, and then he ran until he reached the end of the hallway and there was nowhere else to run. He closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall, trying to calm his breathing.
Thankfully, it was quiet, the only sound the creaking of the ship and the thud of the hull cutting through the Stream. It should have been soothing, but Fin wasn’t used to quiet.
Where he was from, quiet meant either something was very wrong, or it was about to be.
And something was wrong: him.
He hadn’t always been this way, he knew it. He thought back to being four, on the boat in his mother’s embrace, headed toward the Khaznot Quay. His mother’s words, comforting him; her arms, holding him tight. She hadn’t ignored him. She hadn’t forgotten him. She’d even given him his star, pointed it out in the sky so he’d know she would never forget him.
But then, she’d never come back for him, either. He’d looked for her. When he wasn’t stealing food or foraging for shelter, he’d searched for clues as to where to find her, looking in every house in the Quay, every place he could break into. But the only thing he’d ever found was his personal record at the Orphan Preserve, which wasn’t much better than useless.
As he’d grown older he’d begun wondering why she’d brought him there and left him behind. Eventually, though, he’d stopped asking that question. He balled his hands into fists, pressing them against his eyes to keep the tears from spilling over.
But now everything was different. Someone else remembered him. Even after some of the biggest distractions in the world—the docks being on fire, a drawing on a scrap of paper turning into a bird—Marrill still remembered who he was. It was terrifying and incredible at the same time!
Maybe that meant that even if his forgettability wasn’t a spell or curse that could be lifted, he could still be fixed. Fin heaved a deep sigh, thinking about what it would be like to find his mother. To be normal again.
But to find his mother, he needed that Map. A plan began to form in his mind. It was simple, straightforward, the way he liked it. All he had to do was help find the Map along with everyone else. And then, once they’d found all the pieces, he could do what he did best: Steal it.
After all, he was a thief—taking was what he excelled at. The others would get their turn after he borrowed it for a bit. They might not like the wait, but to Fin, there was no other option. Otherwise, they’d forget he needed it. He’d learned early to take his cut before handing the spoils over to Stavik. Being forgettable had its advantages, but being counted in when shares were divvied up wasn’t one of them.
That was just life when you were a forgettable kid. You either got your bit first or not at all. He barely thought twice about it.
The plan calmed the storm in his chest and eased his panic.
Until he thought about Marrill. Heat crawled up his neck; something in his gut turned sour. He wasn’t used to people remembering him long enough to form opinions of him. One of the upsides of forgettability was never having to explain yourself the next day, or to worry about what someone thought of you.
Never having to worry about letting someone down.
He realized that he didn’t like the idea of letting Marrill down. It made him sick to his stomach.
Thankfully, that thought was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. He pushed away from the wall and looked up to find Marrill walking slowly down the hallway.
“Hey, Fin,” she said.
His cheeks flushed. It was still strange to hear someone else use his name.
He didn’t know how to respond, really. How did people start conversations when there wasn’t a job or a con involved? He really wasn’t very good at being remembered.
“Um, hi,” he said at last. “Marrill,” he added. He knew how much he liked to hear his own name; maybe she was the same?
A small smile ticked up the corners of her mouth. “Hi,” she said. “So I gu
ess you’re part of the crew now, huh?”
Fin couldn’t tell if she was asking a question or making a statement, and so he erred on the side of not responding. But that just led to awkward silence. Which seemed wrong, but he didn’t know how to fix it. Normally he’d just find some sort of distraction and leave so he could start the conversation over.
But with Marrill… he cleared his throat. “So, um… you remember me?”
She rolled her eyes at him like it was the stupidest question ever. “Duh.”
“Um, yeah, you’re probably the third person in my life who’s ever remembered me.” As soon as the words left his lips, he wished he could take them back. Especially with the look of pity that flashed in Marrill’s eyes.
He kept forgetting she would recall everything he said. He couldn’t just say stupid stuff and get away with it. She’d actually get to know him. The thought both terrified and thrilled him.
“That sounds awful,” she said.
“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat again, not knowing what else to say.
“So how come I’m able to remember you?”
He definitely didn’t know what to say to that; he had never been asked about himself before. “The only other person who remembered me was Mrs. Parsnickle at the Quay Orphan Preserve, but that was just when I was young. I think she was so focused on caring for little kids, she couldn’t possibly miss one.” He shrugged. “She was great, but when I turned seven, she forgot me, just like everyone else.”
Marrill’s expression grew more horrified. “Not even your parents?” she asked.
“My mom remembered me,” Fin said. “But the only thing I remember about her is her bringing me to the Khaznot Quay and dropping me off at the Orphan Preserve when I was four. I’ve been looking for her ever since.”
The attention made Fin squirm. He didn’t really like being pitied.
It occurred to him at the same time that he was going to have to think about what he shared. She would remember it, after all. And she might not take kindly to traveling with a thief.