The Tree of Water

  “Thank you,” Ven repeated. “But, er, fish? Isn’t this one of your, well, your—”

  The Cormorant shrugged.

  “Everyone has to eat,” he said. “It’s nothing personal.”

  “See?” Amariel said. There was a hint of triumph in her voice. “I told you so.”

  “Finish it quickly,” said the Cormorant. “The sun is diving, and soon it will be night. You’ll want to find shelter in the Deep while you still have a bit of light, and we still need to see your thrum about the inner workings of the Gated City.”

  Char was licking his fingers already. He cleared his throat uncomfortably.

  As soon as Ven had eaten, the Cormorant signaled to one of the soldiers, who hoisted Amariel off the floor, ignoring her protests and squirming. The Cormorant led them to the airwheel, seized one of the giant shells, and held it still, temporarily stopping the wheel while the soldier deposited the merrow into the shell bucket. Streams of seawater immediately began to rain into the cave when the wheel came to a stop.

  “It took many storm for the wheel to drain the Drowning Cave and fill it with air,” the Cormorant said as he released the wheel. Amariel’s shell began rising toward the ceiling of the cave. “If the airwheel were to stop for more than a few moments, the cave would be completely submerged.”

  Ven could hear Char gulp behind him.

  “You still have your stone?” he whispered to his best friend. Char nodded.

  “You’re next, human,” the Cormorant ordered. “Take your time going up from the cave—you should always go slowly toward the surface.” He waited until the merrow had disappeared over the wheel’s top, then stopped another shell. Char scrambled inside, and the Cormorant released the wheel again.

  “Hold your breath,” Ven advised as the shell headed for the ceiling.

  “Believe me, I am,” Char retorted. “I have been all along.” Then the shell disappeared over the top of the airwheel.

  Ven watched anxiously as his friends faded into the darkness. Then he grabbed his pack and weapon and hurried to the wheel, knowing the drill.

  “When you leave the air, find the nearest patch of sunshadow as soon as you get into the drift,” the Cormorant instructed. “Night is falling, and it may be hard to find one, but the light that breaks the surface at the end of the day is often the most powerful. A storm is coming; it will rain soon, and the morning will be gray. Clear your head and get your thoughts straight.” He turned to the sea-Lirin boy. “Coreon, bid your father goodbye.”

  * * *

  As soon as I got into the shell I could feel the salt in my nose and eyes again. It still stung, harder now, because I had been away from it for a short time. I could feel the weight of the sea above me, and it made my stomach turn flips.

  And the curiosity run wild in my veins.

  Because we were going to the Summer Festival.

  Amariel had told me stories of it, as I lay cold and shivering on the broken piece of driftwood that had once been part of the Angelia, a ship that never got a chance to be christened because I blew it up to keep it from the Fire Pirates. Before the driftwood sank I carved what would have been the name into it with the knife in my jack-rule.

  It seemed like the story of my life then—too little, too late.

  But perhaps now things were changing.

  We were about to set forth on an important mission, even if it was Coreon’s. Our efforts might lead to the saving of the innocent people of the Gated City, the people Mr. Coates had described as being trapped by the many layers of their prison home.

  I hope he’s still alive.

  I hope the Tree of Water is still alive.

  Most of all, when all this is over, I hope Amariel, Char, and I will still be alive.

  * * *

  The shell, which had been tilted at an angle and sealed upright against the inside of the airwheel, rolled up so that it was lying flat. With a sickening rush, the sea grabbed Ven from within the smooth inside and dragged him into the drift again.

  Fighting panic, he took a breath.

  Instead of choking, as he had prepared for, the sweet elemental air filled his lungs once more.

  In the patchy light to the west he saw the merrow and Char waving to him, surrounded by the sea-Lirin soldiers. They looked much more comfortable now that they were away from the air and back in their watery home.

  I wonder how they came to be here, away from the Lirin of the upworld, Ven thought as he watched their gills open and close smoothly in the drift. Maybe Coreon knows the story. We will certainly have time to trade tales on the way to the Summer Festival.

  The Cormorant was beside him a moment later. His kelp-like hair and brows floated in the drift, making him look even more terrifying. He signaled to the last sunny place where hazy light broke the surface, and Ven swam over as quickly as he could before the light shifted.

  “Tell me,” the Cormorant commanded. His thrum was even more powerful than his voice.

  So Ven recounted what he knew about the structure of the Gated City. He had never seen the northernmost wall, nor the one that surrounded the far eastern section, but he was able to call to mind a fairly good picture of the rest of the place. He thought about the Outer Market’s streets, laid out neatly in a circle around a center area, and the Skywalk, an elevated pathway in the air above the streets built of wooden planks and ladders that stretched from the Outer Market inward. Finally he pictured the Keyhole Gate, the frightening doorway through which they had passed into the Inner Market. He showed them a sunshadow of the Raven’s Guild hall, where Felonia ruled, and the well in the center of the dark streets where they had met the Downworlders.

  “I have no idea what their tunnels look like from above,” he said as the sunshadow faded. “It was a giant maze. Only the Downworlders themselves can travel those underground routes and not be lost forever.”

  “Understood.” The Cormorant waved to Coreon to join them as he emerged from the underwater cave. “Follow the sun as it travels across the sky—the Festival grounds are due west, beyond the great Sea Desert. Cross the desert carefully—there are fewer creatures living there, but those that do are often large and hungry. Be respectful and pass quietly.”

  “We will.”

  “Good. Remember to give the Sea King my message—it is the only thing that will save any good people who might live within the city’s walls, if any such people really do exist. I will wait to attack until the last day of summer. If I have heard nothing by then, I will assume you have failed in your mission and have become part of the sea. Then I will do what I have to do. Are we clear?”

  “We are,” Ven replied. “Thank you for your help.”

  “Shoulder your packs and keep your weapons out,” the Cormorant advised. “Clear drift and low waves to you.”

  “Thank you,” all four of the children’s thrum answered.

  As Ven pulled the pack onto his back, it brushed against his pocket. The green glass bottle inside bumped against his leg. He called quickly after the Cormorant, who had already formed his legs into the dolphin-like position.

  “Sir?”

  The Cormorant turned around.

  “The Athenry—the prison ship you mentioned? Whatever became of it?”

  “I do not know the answer to that question,” the sea-Lirin commander said. “Once its last load of prisoners was delivered, it departed, never to be seen again. I’ve heard tales that it sank, but I have never seen its bones on the reef or beyond it in the Deep. Perhaps a sea dragon has them in its lair. Other than that, I cannot say.”

  Thoughts were beginning to race in Ven’s head.

  “Do you know where a sea dragon lives?”

  The Cormorant shook his head.

  “Even if I did, I wouldn’t suggest you visit one,” he said. “They are among the most vicious creatures in the sea, and do not take well to strangers approaching their lairs. I’m told each dragon in the world collects something different in its lair. I’ve heard tales of one who
lives near the great Icefields to the south that collects casks of rum, but that is a visit from which you would not return, for many reasons. I suggest you learn to rein in your curiosity, Ven. I know it plagues you—I could feel the thrum of your head when we first met. Curiosity can be a valuable tool, but it can also make you vulnerable. And in the sea, vulnerability means death. Remember that. I am not the least bit sorry that I do not know the whereabouts of any sea dragons.”

  With a strong kick, he was gone.

  When the vibrations of his leaving had settled into the drift, and his thrum could no longer be felt, Coreon turned to the others.

  “I know where one lives.”

  17

  Into the Deep

  “Hold on,” said the merrow. “Ven, forget you heard that.”

  “What she said,” Char agreed. “Which way to the Summer Festival?”

  Ven didn’t hear them. His ears were filled with the words that hung in the water from Coreon’s thrum. His curiosity blocked out the sound of anything else.

  I know where one lives.

  “Where?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Amariel interrupted before the sea-Lirin boy could answer. “We’re not going there. We’re heading for the Underwater Forest, then out to the Sea Desert. You’ll love the kelp beds there, Ven. The forest is a magical place. I told you a little about it when you were half dead on that piece of broken ship.”

  Coreon shrugged. “Have it your way. I can visit him anytime. And we may see him anyway, since he lives in the kelp forest.”

  “How ferocious is he?” Ven asked.

  Coreon thought for a moment. “He’s pretty peaceful, though he can be cranky if you surprise him.”

  “A little like Scarnag,” Char said. “An’ I’m not sure we’re up to takin’ on a dragon at this point in time, Ven, even a peaceful one. We have a set time to get this mission done, and to get an answer back to the Cormorant. I’d hate to see all the innocent folks in the Gated City pay with their lives because we took a detour to see a dragon. I still feel guilty enough about the herring. The second lesson they teach you in Don’t Be an Idiot School is ‘Keep away from dragons that ain’t botherin’ you.’”

  “What’s the first lesson?” Coreon asked.

  “Lesson Number One: ‘You can’t trust anybody in a thieves’ market,’” Char said. “We learned that one up close.” He shuddered at the memory.

  “But what about the scale?” Ven asked. He looked around to be certain nothing nearby was listening, but the drift was empty except for some floating kelp and a few minnows that were not paying attention. “Madame Sharra said that she had never seen one want to accompany anyone before. It wants me to do something important with it, I’m sure. The last time we returned a scale to a dragon we stopped at least three different wars. If we can do that under the sea—”

  “What are you talking about?” Coreon demanded.

  “Ven has this thing about dragons, having met one,” Amariel said. Her thrum felt furious against Ven’s skin, like a stinging slap. “That particular one was in the upworld. As you know, everything in the upworld is much weaker and far less powerful than what lives in the sea. So he thinks it would be interesting to meet a sea dragon. He doesn’t have the first clue about the dragons of the Deep. My mother said she would rather see me marry a human than talk to a sea dragon.”

  “Whoa,” Char whispered. “That is bad.”

  “Yes it is,” said the merrow. “I told you at the beginning of this journey, Ven, that if you were seeking out a sea dragon, you were on your own. At least sharks eat you raw. I have no desire to be roasted alive before I get swallowed.”

  Coreon’s kelp-like eyebrows drew together.

  “I really doubt he would swallow you,” he said.

  “Well, pardon me if I don’t want to take your word for it,” Amariel said huffily.

  Coreon shrugged again. “Suit yourself. Why don’t we just head over the kelp beds to the forest and if we happen to see him, we can say hello, but we won’t seek him out.”

  “That seems reasonable,” said Ven.

  “You really aren’t listening to me, are you?” Amariel asked.

  “Not really,” Coreon admitted. “But that’s mostly because Lirin-mer fathers tell their sons to never pay attention to merrows, because they’re selfish and thoughtless and will lead you into trouble.”

  The merrow’s mouth dropped open, and her thrum went flat in shock.

  “Let’s head for the forest,” Ven said quickly. “The Cormorant said we would want to find cover for the night before dark. Do you think the Underwater Forest would be a good place for that?”

  “Probably,” said Coreon. He swam ahead of the merrow, who was still staring, aghast, at him. “This way.”

  Char looked doubtfully from Amariel to Ven. The merrow had recovered from her shock and was looking as if she were preparing to spit.

  “Whaddaya think?” he asked.

  “I think Coreon should decide where we go,” Ven said. “This is his mission. And he’s the one who knows the way to the Summer Festival.”

  The Lirin-mer stopped in the drift, then turned around and coughed awkwardly. “Well, sort of. I’ve been told the way. I’ve never actually been myself.”

  “Oh, swell,” Char muttered.

  “Well, at least we should find shelter,” said Ven. “Let’s go.”

  “If this mission is so important, why did the Cormorant send someone who had never been to the Festival before?” Char asked as they left the reef.

  The Lirin-mer boy stopped swimming and hovered in the drift.

  “You really don’t get it, do you?” he said harshly. “This mission isn’t important to anyone but you. The Cormorant doesn’t care about the people in the Gated City. He doesn’t believe any of them are worth saving. He has no reason to believe that we are even going to reach the Summer Festival. He probably assumes we will get eaten by predators in the Sea Desert. Didn’t you hear what he said to me?”

  Char and Ven were silent, but the merrow nodded.

  “That’s what he meant when he said that Coreon may as well go with us, because we already had his name,” she explained to the boys. “I keep trying to tell you two how important it is to guard your name in the Deep, to not throw names around lightly. When someone has your name, it’s like they have power over you. That makes you vulnerable.”

  Coreon added. “You wouldn’t know my name if I hadn’t messed up and followed you on the reef. My father called out to me because he didn’t know where I was. I’m a vulnerability now, useless. To my people, I’m part burden, part danger. So the Cormorant decided to send me away with you. If we get through to the Festival, and we successfully deliver his message, he will have the Sea King’s guidance and blessing about the Gated City. And if we don’t, well, he can do whatever he already has planned. The Sea King is only king until Threshold, the last day of summer, so the Cormorant can also ignore what he says and nobody will be the wiser. You’ve given him all the information he needs to invade the city. So he wins either way.”

  “Oh man.” Char’s thrum came out like a whisper.

  Ven fought down his anger.

  “Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to make certain we get to the Summer Festival, won’t we,” he said. “Hopefully the Sea King will be a wiser leader than the Cormorant.”

  “That all depends on your point of view,” said Coreon. “The Cormorant is not a bad leader. He has a job to do, a reef and a people to protect. From his perspective, you asking to save a few good people in the Gated City would be like someone asking dolphins to spare certain fish in a Herring Ball.”

  “I hope the schoolmaster made it out,” Char said. The Lirin-mer looked at him strangely.

  “Let’s be on our way,” said the merrow. She started off into the darker green water, where only the smallest amount of light was breaking the surface now.

  Ven and the others followed her into the deeper part of the sea, leaving the reef a
nd its colorful wonders behind them.

  Beyond the shallows, larger schools of fish moved about in between patches of kelp, spotty at first, but growing thicker as the water deepened and grew colder. A squadron of large, bat-like rays like the one Ven had startled on the reef swept past. They streaked toward the surface, leaping out of the water, then splashed back down, filling the drift with bubbles and stunning the fish.

  As they watched the rays suck the dazed fish up into the mouths on the flat undersides of their bodies, a strange creature skittled along the ocean floor below them. Its head was shaped like that of a land snail, but its ray-like body had formless sides covered in green bristly growth.

  “Oh!” exclaimed Amariel. “Hello, Elysia!”

  The strange creature flapped its soft sides and scurried on.

  “That’s Elysia,” the merrow informed them. “She’s a green sea slug, part animal, part plant. But don’t ever mention that fact around her, because she’s a little sensitive about it.”

  “Part animal, part plant?” Char demanded. “How’s that possible?”

  “I dunno,” said the merrow. “But she only needs to eat algae once in her lifetime, and then she never has to eat again. All she has to do is sunbathe, and she can make her own food, like a green plant. She must have been up at the surface soaking up the sun’s rays.”

  “The sea sure is a strange place,” Char muttered.

  The merrow said something in return, but Ven was not listening. In the distance, the familiar thrum had brushed against his skin again. He tried to remember where he had heard it before, but the answer eluded him.

  There was another thrum masking it, a buzzing on the surface above them, lighter and wider spread.

  “It’s raining,” Amariel said, reading his thoughts. “A storm is coming. The drift is starting to churn. The winds must be picking up.”

  “We had best find shelter,” Coreon said. “Come on. It’s not too much farther to the doorway of the Underwater Forest.”

  They swam over kelp beds that grew thicker the deeper in they went, with large clusters of seaweed floating in the drift. Ven could see crabs hurrying along the ocean floor among the kelp, burrowing into the sand ahead of the storm. The light had left the sky, and the sea was now dark except for a little remaining surface blue.