The Tree of Water

  Coreon’s father swept Coreon into his arms as soon as he was close enough, then turned him loose and pulled back to look at him. Whatever they thrummed to each other stayed between them, but it was clear by the way that the Lirin-mer man looked at his son that he had found a new respect for him. I was glad— I have a father a lot like that, someone whose respect I was always trying to earn, who seemed to think of me as a baby, but I have since come to know loves me and misses me when I am away.

  I am glad for Coreon. He deserves it.

  Char and I got to speak to the Cormorant for a few moments before he, Coreon’s father, and Coreon went back to the reef. The Cormorant told us that he had indeed received the Sea King’s message, and had stayed the attack on the Gated City as a result. They had instead undertaken just to seal the underwater tunnel, and had set off an explosion so enormous that they could see the walls of the city shake with dust from outside the harbor. He said the tunnel had collapsed completely, and in the half-turn of the moon since the explosion, there had been no sign of anyone from within the Gated City leaving or harming the reef.

  He told us something interesting about the tree stump we had seen in Spicegar’s kelp forest—that it was definitely not the remains of the Tree of Water, but rather a massive oak tree that had once grown on the border of the Lirin-mer lands before they had gone into the sea.

  And had been cut down to make the airwheel.

  Coreon, Char, and I just looked at each other and smiled.

  The Cormorant gave us each another flask of fresh water, and another packet of kelp.

  And that was it. No goodbye, no lingering, no other comments.

  But as they were swimming away, I saw Coreon stop and turn back to us one last time. He held up his hand, and smiled slightly. I found myself matching his gestures in return.

  And somehow I know, deep in my guts, that the world of the Lirin-mer and that of the land-livers has become closer, more peaceful, even if he, Char, and I never meet again.

  * * *

  The closer to the surface they got, the brighter the water and Amariel’s mood grew. They were swimming on their own, now that the silvery whales had returned to the depths, and she seemed to get stronger as they passed the skelligs and approached Kingston Harbor. The boys took turns thrumming to her, filling her in on what had happened since the waterspout and the diving bell. Amariel shuddered, but she seemed happy enough to have escaped with her life.

  She did not mention the loss of her red pearl cap. But she did put the glowing sea star at her throat, like a necklace, and caressed it every so often.

  “I can see her,” she finally whispered to Ven as they approached the seawalls that marked the underwater opening to Kingston Harbor.

  “See what?” Ven asked.

  “You know,” Amariel said. “The tree, and her guardian.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. And everything around them. It’s like—it’s like part of me is down there with them.”

  Ven smiled in relief. That’s because it is, he thought. The merrow nodded, and Ven remembered his thrum still could be heard, even as close as they were to home.

  Their excitement grew as they approached the surface. Amariel was the first to break out of the waves, and she waved excitedly to the boys as she did.

  Char and Ven surfaced at almost the same time a moment later, laughing.

  “Ven!” Char shouted.

  “What?” Ven shouted back.

  “I have no idea what you’re thinkin’!”

  “What a relief,” Ven chuckled, trying to breathe lightly and adjust to the thinner air of the upworld. “I don’t have any idea what you are thinking either, Char.”

  “I’m thinking you both are bonkers,” Amariel said cheerfully. “Only humans—er, land-livers—would prefer to be ignorant. Oh well.”

  Her words were interrupted by a harsh scream.

  43

  A Familiar Friend

  A giant white bird with gray-tipped feathers was circling overhead.

  “The albatross!” Ven cried. “Look! It’s the albatross!”

  “That’s just what she looked like on the day I first found you in the sea,” Amariel said, grinning widely. “She was flying in great circles around where you had fallen from that exploding ship—what was it called?”

  Ven thought, then shook his head.

  “I don’t remember,” he said. “But it hardly matters now.” He waved as much as he could from the water, trying to keep from sinking. “She’s always been a great friend—and Madame Sharra told me that she was the eyes of someone else who was watching out for me.”

  The great bird banked on the wind, then began slowly flying east.

  “Do you think she’s leading us to shore?” Char asked, struggling to keep above the waves.

  “I hope so,” Ven answered. “Wherever she’s leading, I think we should follow.”

  “I can see the shoreline from here,” said Amariel. “We’re not too far from the northern end of Kingston, up past the Gated City. The skelligs aren’t too far from here either, just outside the harbor, farther north.”

  The boys squinted as they looked east.

  “You have great eyes, ya know that?” said Char. “All I see is waves forever.”

  “Well, trust me, we’re not that far away. You probably would be best off to float on your backs, so you don’t have to keep catching your breath. I’ll let you know when to stop swimming.”

  “Good idea,” Ven agreed. “That way I can watch the albatross as well. I’m so glad to see her.”

  “Is it just me, or is the wind a lot colder than it was when we started?” Char asked.

  “It’s autumn now,” Ven said. “Summer’s gone.” He felt a bit of sadness creep through him at the thought, but pushed it away and concentrated on the sky above them, clear and blue with traces of fragile white clouds spun like cotton candy through it.

  The swim was longer than he had imagined, and by the time the merrow told them they were nearing the shore, the clouds had thickened and the sky above the albatross had grown darker and gray. The sun still hung in the sky, well above the horizon, but had turned a bloody shade of orange.

  “What are we gonna do when we get to land?” Char asked, staring nervously above him. “If we’re north o’ the Gated City, the Thief Queen may be nearby.”

  “Not if the Cormorant was right,” Ven said. He closed his eyes for a moment as a stray wave slapped over them. The tide was getting stronger, and the waves were beginning to crest with white foam, pulling them toward shore.

  “You should probably turn around and look now,” said the merrow. “It’s getting pretty shallow here. I can’t go too much farther without scraping my tail on the bottom—and I hate that.”

  Ven rolled over and floated upright, treading water. The coming of night had turned the waves dark blue, and the shoreline ahead was rocky and gray. He could see the northern end of the Gated City off to the south, but it was still too far away to see any people on its walls.

  “Are you going back to your school now?” he asked anxiously.

  Amariel shrugged.

  “I don’t know,” she said. “I think I’ll stay around and follow you both down the coast until you get home—especially if the albatross leaves once you get to land. Then, when I’m sure you’re safe, I may go out of the harbor, call for my school, and see if they’re near enough to catch up with. Winter is coming—it will be time for them to head home soon.”

  “I’m going to miss you so much,” Ven said. “I just got you back.”

  “I’ll miss you too. But I miss my family as well. I’ve been following you around the sea for the whole summer. I need to go home.”

  “Fair enough. Make sure you say goodbye before you leave, if you can. We’ll meet you at the old abandoned dock north of town.”

  The merrow nodded. “Good luck. Come back to the sea if you get into trouble.”

  “We will,” said Char. “Thanks.”

&n
bsp; The albatross banked to the south. Ven watched as she sailed over the rocky beach, then began flying in circles around a pile of rocks at the water’s edge.

  “What do you suppose she’s up to now?” Char demanded. He spat out the seawater of a wave that had caught him in the mouth.

  “I don’t know. Let’s go see. You want to come along, Amariel?”

  The merrow sighed. “I guess so. But I can’t get too close. I’ve lost enough scales off my fluke already.”

  They swam south until they were within better sight of the rocky outcropping. By now many boulders and large rocks dotted the water’s edge, and they had to swim carefully around them to avoid being grazed by them. The albatross seemed to be circling one particularly large rock ledge, half in, half out of the water, most of it buried in sand.

  As they got closer, Char stopped suddenly, treading water.

  “Ven,” he whispered. “Do you see something odd about that huge rock?”

  Ven stared as best as he could in the dim light of dusk, but his eyes were stinging from the combination of salt water and fresh air. The sun was beginning to set, and the sky was taking on colors of pink and orange and a deep, forbidding purple.

  “It does seem odd,” he agreed. “But I’m not sure why.”

  “Well, do you see that half-round indent on this side?” Char asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It looks like a porthole.”

  “A porthole? Like a window in a—”

  “Criminey!” Char exclaimed. “That’s no rocky ledge. That thing’s an old, dead ship!”

  “Or what’s left of one,” Ven said. “I’d say it’s less than half a ship.”

  “So what do ya suppose has the albatross so interested?” Char asked. “There are dozens of broken ships along the water’s edge in Kingston.”

  “I don’t know. That one looks pretty old.”

  The ruined vessel appeared to be wedged largely in the sand at the water’s edge, so that waves swelled around it, splashing it with white foam. There was something about the sight of it that burned Ven’s already stinging eyes.

  * * *

  It was a little like the feeling of thrum, though that was something I had usually felt in my skin or my ears. I wondered if in fact the wreck was calling out to me, its vibration catching me in the eyes. Amariel had said that things in the upworld had thrum like the beings and places and storms of the sea, but that their vibrations got lost in the wind.

  Then I saw the name, all but gone, carved long ago and once painted in thick black paint that had all but worn off completely over time and in the surf.

  * * *

  Athenry, it said.

  “Do you see that?!” Ven shouted.

  Char was already swimming straight for the shipwreck. Ven followed him, slowing down only to avoid the coastal rocks and small jellyfish that were floating along the water’s edge.

  “No—wonder Dyancynos—couldn’t—feel—it,” he said in between waves. “She said there were places of water that didn’t count as the sea. Technically, I guess this is the harbor.”

  Char had gotten as far as the porthole. He peered inside.

  “What’s in there?” Ven called.

  His best friend lifted himself up even closer and leaned forward through the opening. The portal was barred like a window in a prison cell, but the bars were rusty and cracked with time.

  “I don’ see anything,” he called.

  Ven looked out to sea, where Amariel was floating, far enough away from shore to be out of the rolling tide. The merrow shrugged. He turned back toward the shore, and as he did, a shiver went up his spine, as if someone was watching him. He looked around, but saw no one nearby. The Gated City was still too far away to see any details, and was slowly being swallowed by darkness. He shook his head, and the feeling went away.

  “Do you think it’s safe to explore?” he called to Char.

  His best friend replied by crawling through the porthole and disappearing into the shattered ship.

  Ven hurried to catch up. The opening that Char had slid through was a little small for him, so he crawled through as carefully as he could. He found himself in the old ship’s hold, the rotten wood floor wet from the water that had splashed through the porthole, but otherwise dry.

  The hold was empty, except for a few pieces of rusty hardware, hinges and metal plates bolted into the ship’s interior walls. A few links of what had once been chains were attached to the plates.

  “This musta been a horrible ride,” Char mumbled. “It’s easy enough to get seasick when you’re free to move around. But being chained day after day to the wall of a prison ship? Gives me the willies just bein’ in here, all these centuries later.”

  “I don’t see anything of interest,” Ven said as he walked carefully around the hold. “I’m not surprised it’s so solid. My father has built a few prison ships, and they are as sturdy as ships come. They can’t sail very fast because they’re so heavy, and they put extra strong wood and iron in them to make sure none of the prisoners escape.”

  “What did that key you found tell you to do in here?” Char asked. “Because I want to get out of here right now. I’m startin’ to get gooseflesh.”

  Ven fished the skeleton key out of his pocket and held it up to the porthole to catch the last of the day’s light.

  “Free the only innocent prisoners she ever held,” he read.

  “Well, we’re clearly too late for that,” said Char. “Anybody who was imprisoned in here, innocent or not, is long gone.”

  “So it seems,” Ven agreed. “We should search the place carefully anyway.”

  “What’s to search?” Char asked crossly. “This is just the hold, the very bottom o’ the ship. All o’ the cabins and cells and decks are long gone as well. It’s just a big, empty, broken wooden box now. Which is good, because even as dead and shattered as it is, I can still feel the sadness, and the evil that it was built to contain. It’s makin’ me shake. C’mon—let’s get outta here.”

  Ven was pacing back and forth across the length of the rotten deck.

  “We’re missing something,” he said.

  Char sighed. “We sure are. We’re missin’ supper. And the hearth and the fire and the kitchen o’ the Crossroads Inn. And Mrs. Snodgrass. And our friends. And Felitza. C’mon, Ven—let’s go.”

  Ven shook his head. He turned and walked back to the front of the shipwreck.

  “I know we’re missing something,” he repeated.

  Char threw up his hands in disgust. “What? What are we missin’?”

  Ven shook his head, trying to clear it of salt water and confusion. There was something nagging at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t force it to come forth. He decided to try not to concentrate too hard.

  As he did, a picture came into his mind. It was the image of a fish, one of the many odd creatures they had met on the coral reef before venturing into the Deep. There was something particularly odd about it, ugly and spotted, with yellow fins. He thought back to where he had seen it, then realized that it had inflated into a ball almost as soon as they came upon it.

  Then, suddenly, he understood.

  “Remember that poisonous puffer fish from the reef?” he asked. “The one that swelled up out of nowhere?”

  Char nodded.

  “I think Amariel said he had a stretchable stomach that could fill with water or air to keep him upright, didn’t she?”

  “Yes—so what?”

  “Well, a lot of ships have something like that, too.” Ven knelt down and tapped on the rotten floorboards.

  “A stretchable stomach?”

  “No—but something that fills with water or air to keep it upright. It’s called a ballast tank. My father put them in almost every ship he made—the big ones, at least.”

  “I’ve been on plenty o’ ships in my life, an’ I never saw nothin’ like that,” Char said suspiciously.

  “Unless you see the ship out of the water, you never would,”
said Ven as he continued to tap on the floor. “The ballast tank is at the very bottom of the hull. It’s either sealed to keep air in, or there are tiny slits that keep it filled with water.” He stopped when he heard a hollow sound beneath the floorboards. “I think I found it.”

  “Criminey.” Char crouched down on the floor and joined in the search. Within a few moments they discovered a long regular crack in the floorboards that appeared to be the seam of a hatch or doorway.

  Ven took out his jack-rule. He extended the magnifying glass and found the lines of a door. He folded the glass back in and pulled out the knife blade, then cleared away a lot of the gunk from the seam. He tucked the tool back in his pocket when he was done.

  “Watch your fingers,” Ven advised as they tried to pry the hatch in the floor up. “The wood of the door is almost as thick as your arm—it has to be in this part of the hull.”

  They struggled, lifted, and pulled until finally the hatch gave way. It swung up, revealing a small ladder with three rungs, one of them broken.

  And darkness.

  “Whaddaya know,” Char whispered.

  His question was answered by a deep, threatening growl that made the hair on both of their necks stand on end.

  And two yellow eyes, glowing at them in the darkness.

  A hair’s breadth away from them.

  Then, before they could breathe, the beast leapt from the darkness and lunged at Char’s throat.

  Knocking him to the ground.

  44

  A Mysterious Reunion

  Ven’s hand went immediately to his jack-rule. He pulled the tool from his pocket again and quickly extended the knife. His hands were shaking.

  Then he looked down in surprise.