The Tree of Water

  Weeping, the girl pulled away and tried to drag herself toward the city.

  Night had fallen completely, and the moon had not yet risen. All around them was dark wind and crashing sea, and the flickering lamplight in the distance. Over the sound of the waves, Ven suddenly heard a voice floating on the wind. It was sweet and warm, a wordless tune he thought he knew, and he smiled.

  The children stopped. Hannah ceased her struggle, and Sam froze where he stood. They turned toward the south, following the sound.

  Ven sighed in relief. The merrow’s song had not only enchanted the frantic children, but made the buzzing in his ears from the salt water and the ache in his head disappear.

  Thank you, Amariel, he thought. You are always there when I need your help.

  Maybe it was just his imagination, but he thought that the song grew a little louder, a little more amused in reply. The merrow had said that thrum in the upworld got lost in the wind, but now that they had been to the edge of life and death together, maybe their messages would still be able to find each other.

  Ven took hold of Hannah’s limp wrist, while Char put his arm around Sam’s small shoulders. Together they helped the frail children along the beach, long into the night, as the moon rose and set again, over the pebbles and broken shells, around the fragments of lobster traps and scraps of rope wedged in the sand, away from the walls of the Gated City, all the way south until the lights of Kingston finally came into view as the sky was growing paler with the coming of Forelight.

  At the edge of an old abandoned dock.

  Just as the merrow’s song ended.

  The twins collapsed, exhausted, onto the sand. Char bent down beside them, puffing as well.

  “I thought movin’ through the water was harder than the air,” he said between breaths. “But now I miss how much the sea carried me.”

  “Rest for a minute,” Ven said. “I’ll be right back.”

  He trotted to the dock and out to the end of it, taking care to avoid the rotted planks. His face, dry and sore from salt, broke into an enormous smile.

  Floating in the water, where she had been so many times before, was a girl with green eyes and long, wet hair, beautiful multicolored scales peeking out of the water below her armpits.

  She was grinning broadly in return, unbothered by the fact that her porpoise teeth were showing.

  “Thank you so much,” he said earnestly. “It’s amazing how a merrow song can calm down even the most panicking land-liver.”

  Amariel shrugged. “I’ve gotten used to having to do that, ever since I rescued you. It is, however, getting a little old.”

  Ven thought back to his birthday, to the thrill of the Inspection voyage, the terror of the Fire Pirate attack, the explosion of the ship whose name he could no longer remember, and the beauty of the songs that greeted him as he lay on the piece of floating wreckage.

  “Well, we did it,” he said. “We finally did it! You’ve shown me the Deep—”

  “Keep your voice down,” the merrow interrupted. “As you know by now, that’s hardly something for me to brag about.”

  Ven laughed. “I don’t know about that. You brought the first son of Earth to the bottom of the world, fulfilled a couple of prophecies, saved the Tree of Water, helped return the dragon scale to Dyancynos, and lived to tell about it. I think that may make you more famous one day than—what’s her name? The merrow from your school that the skellig is named after?”

  “Lilyana,” said Amariel, smiling more slightly. “And you did a lot of that while I was sleeping.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It was always your idea.”

  The dragon’s words returned to his mind.

  We can sometimes observe each other’s worlds, but that does not mean we can live in them. Think of Coreon’s people, who gave up the air to live within the sea—and they can never go back.

  “I’m so grateful for the chance to have seen your world, Amariel,” he said. “And I appreciate that you came to visit mine as well.”

  “Well, now that’s done, I guess it’s time to say goodbye for real this time,” the merrow said. “It’s time for me to go home. Winter is coming, and I want to be with my family for the swim to the Warm Waters.”

  “What are the Warm Waters?” Ven asked, his curiosity flooding over him and erasing the sadness that had begun to take hold.

  Amariel sighed.

  “I’ll tell you what,” she said. “You get those younglings to some sort of safe harbor, and get some sleep. I’ll wait until tomorrow morning to say goodbye. And maybe I’ll tell you one last tale—the story of the Warm Waters—before I go. One last story to remember me by. But only maybe—we shall have to see what comes with the new day. I may be tired, or feeling grumpy, and if I am, you will have to wait for the tale.”

  “All right,” said Ven. “That makes sense. Besides, I think you should stay at least one more day anyway. Don’t you want to find out what the king’s surprise is?”

  “Surprise?”

  “Yes, every time I come home from an adventure, I tell the king a story. The last time I saw him he said he had a surprise for me when I got back. Don’t you want to know what it is?”

  The merrow considered for a moment.

  “Yes, I suppose I do,” she said. Her face got brighter, and Ven laughed, knowing that she was the one person in the world he knew that was as much a slave to curiosity as he was. “All right. I’ll see you here tomorrow.”

  46

  The Return

  * * *

  While the thought of sleeping in my own bed at the Crossroads Inn, and seeing all my friends again, and hugging Mrs. Snodgrass, the innkeeper’s wife, and happily stuffing Felitza’s griddle cakes into my mouth made me so happy that my nose itched, I decided it was better to pay my debts first.

  So, difficult as it was, just before dawn I put Char, Sam, and Hannah in a delivery cart full of late-season squash that was headed for the inn and went back to the fishing village, down to the docks where we had met Asa.

  I had, after all, promised him the tale.

  * * *

  The sun was just beginning to light the edges of the eastern sky toward the inn when Ven came to the dock where had seen the fisherman.

  And Madame Sharra.

  He looked toward the Gated City, hoping for and dreading the sight of a rainbow flash, but saw nothing but the gray haze of the morning. He shielded his eyes and watched, hoping to see Mr. Coates again, but the walls of the city were silent, with not even a scout visible on the Skyway in the distance.

  He sighed, then turned west toward the sea and made his way down the pier to the place where the red-bottomed boat was moored.

  He nodded politely to the fishermen who passed him on the dock, who nodded politely in return, but didn’t seem to really notice him. Asa’s boat was halfway down on the right, and he could see the kind man’s shadow growing longer in the rising sun as he sat on a barrel, stripping a length of rope.

  “Good morning,” Ven said. “I’ve come to tell you your tale.”

  “Excellent,” the man replied. He put down his rope, then turned and raised the brim of his cap.

  Ven gasped out loud.

  “Your Majesty?”

  From beneath his soiled fishing cap, the king smiled.

  “What—what are you doing here?”

  “I’m here for my story, of course,” King Vandemere said merrily.

  “How—how—?”

  “Shhh,” the king said. “Your friend, the albatross, has been flying around my castle battlements each morning for the last few days. She makes one full circle around the tower where I have my tea in the morning, then flies straight out to the fishing village. I decided to come and see what was going on—I suspected it had something to do with you. And I see I am correct. Where have you been? Pull up a barrel before you begin.”

  * * *

  The tale that Dyancynos had told me was still ringing in my ears—either that or the salt water was still
swashing around in there. So I sat down beside the king on a salt-crusted barrel and told him the story I had heard in the darkest and brightest parts of the sea, at the highest and lowest point in the world, in the coldest and warmest realms in which I had ever been.

  I tried as hard as I could to duplicate the dragon’s thrum. My efforts fell short, but I forgave myself. Because even if we are both Children of the Earth, as Dyancynos had said, there is no comparison between the words of a Nain and the thrum of a dragon. Fortunately it was a pretty short tale, so I think I got it all.

  The Gift of Scales

  Deep within the Earth lies an evil that cannot be named, especially by dragons, for reasons that cannot be spoken. It has been there since the early days of the world, and it grows in the cold and dark, silent place beyond the fire at the Earth’s core. In this cold darkness, it sleeps.

  And it must ever do so.

  Because, on that day when it wakes, it will consume the Earth.

  May that day never come.

  At the Earth’s fiery heart, in the core, dwell beings, demons that seek to see the beast awaken. They are set on one thing, and only one thing delights them—destruction. It is the energy off which they feed, and they care nothing for the consequences. Even if their own destruction would result from their deeds, they care not, for destruction, any destruction, is the one thing they seek.

  Long ago, in the Before-Time, when a great battle raged between the Firstborn races of the world, the dragons made a monumental sacrifice to ensure the safety of the Earth. That sacrifice helped build an enormous Vault, a prison of impenetrable walls that held fast the demons who sought to destroy the Earth. For a great, long time, the demons were contained, and the Earth was allowed to grow and bloom in all its realms—the plains, the mountains, the seas, and the downworld, where your ancestors, Ven Polypheme, lived and prospered, completely unaware of what dwelt deeper within.

  And then, one day, the Vault was cracked.

  Those who stood guard at the Vault fought bravely to keep the demons within it, but those demons were too strong, and many of them escaped. The dragons, who, like the Vault itself, were made of elemental earth, known as Living Stone, each made a sacrifice to seal the Vault again.

  That sacrifice was the gift of a scale, one from each dragon living in the world at the time.

  You tried in vain to offer the scale you were carrying to Lancel, Ven Polypheme. While that was a noble effort, he scoffed at you because he is a young dragon, only a few thousand years old. He does not know much about the Gift, because if he did, he would have offered you his entire hoard in exchange for what you were carrying.

  The scales were not easy to give, because, unlike snakes or other animals you may think are similar to dragons, we do not shed our scales. They are alive, just as our eyes, our hearts, our flesh is alive, and to give one up in sacrifice was a painful, difficult undertaking. Be that as it may, each dragon alive on the earth, and there were many more then than are even remembered now, made the sacrifice. We tore them from ourselves and used them to seal the Vault, so that the remaining demons could not escape. Added to a small number of even older, more powerful scales, from a being I cannot speak of, they formed a patch of Living Stone that sealed the Vault and kept the demons, who had been driven back inside, prisoners once again.

  And there they have remained, screaming in the darkness, waiting, and trying, to break free once again.

  Over time, as the Living Stone of the Vault has healed itself, the scales fell off, one by one, when they were no longer needed as a patch. Eventually they were found by a wanderer, out of place in the depths of the Earth, and brought upworld. Because there were traces of magic in them, coming as they did from the hides of dragons, they fell into the hands of a tribe of Seers, who, like the woman Sharra you thrummed of, were tall and golden-skinned with eyes of the same color, and able to use the scales to predict the future, or read the past, or in some other way utilize their magic.

  This should never have been done, Son of Earth. Those were sacred gifts, given willingly and at great sacrifice, to protect the world. They were not toys for the vain or those seeking fortune, as they became in the hands of the Seren Seers like the one who gave this to you. It was a terrible insult, at the best. The fact that this Seer seems to understand this, and now seeks to return them to their rightful owners, is a hopeful sign for the world.

  For in the days since the last battle, the thousands of years that have passed since the Vault was repaired, many of the dragons who gave of their bodies and souls to keep the world safe have passed into the next world. There are very few of us left, hunted as we are by men who do not understand what they are doing when they kill one of us. If they knew what lies within the world we guard, and that each dragon’s death leaves a hole in the shield that protects the Earth from within, they would never seek to harm any one of my kind.

  But the return of this scale is a hopeful sign, Son of Earth. It may mean that man is beginning to understand how important it is to protect those who protect this land—or at least not try to destroy us for sport or vanity.

  And your return of this scale to me will help ensure that the floor of the ocean, the very bottom of the world, which you can see burns and erupts with volcanic fire, will stay as strong as it is possible to remain.

  And that the Tree of Water will grow and bloom again.

  * * *

  47

  The Surprise

  The king was silent for a long time.

  Finally, as the sun was beginning to turn the sea blue from the gray-green of Foredawn, he spoke.

  “I see that I made a wise decision to hire you as the Royal Reporter, Ven,” he said, staring out at the sea. “There is so much I did not have a chance to learn when I was about your age, wandering the world, learning its ways, before my father’s death put me on the throne. You are a much better person to be traveling the world, being my eyes, seeing these things for yourself. Thank you for doing it—I know it is not easy.”

  “No need to thank me, Your Majesty,” Ven said hurriedly. “Even when it’s frightening, it’s lots of fun.”

  “So you did not mind this last journey? Even with all you might have lost?”

  Ven thought hard. “No, sire. In the end, I think a lot of good was accomplished, in spite of the hardship. So I’m satisfied—that is, if you are.”

  “Did you have any idea what you would be doing when you agreed to go into the sea?”

  “No—but I think that’s not a bad thing. Madame Sharra said that it wasn’t always necessary to know the reason for your journey when you begin it, as long as you discover why you undertook it when it is over.”

  “And did you discover the reason? What was it?”

  Ven pondered for a moment. The chilly air of autumn was heavy with salt and the rain of morning.

  “I guess it depends on who you ask,” he said finally. “Amariel thought the reason was for me to finally make good on my promise to come and see where she lives, to explore the Deep with her, as I had agreed to do when we first met. Coreon had a mission assigned to him by the Cormorant—and the Cormorant thought our reason was to find out what he needed to know about his plans to attack the Gated City. Madame Sharra herself might have thought that the real reason for my going into the sea was to return the scale to Dyancynos. The dragon thought my purpose was to fulfill an old prophecy and bring about the miracle that we all needed. I’m sure Mr. Coates would say the reason was to rescue Sam and Hannah. Char’s reason was simple—if I was going, he was going too. Captain Snodgrass’s orders.”

  The king nodded. “All of those seem like good reasons,” he said. “But what do you think the reason was?”

  Ven exhaled. The air he had inhaled a moment before was heavy. Now his lungs felt lighter, as if the wind he was breathing was drying them out.

  “I think each of those reasons was in some ways my reason as well,” he said finally. “I began the journey thinking I was hiding from the Thief Queen,
something I may have to do for a very long time—though with the tunnel closed, I may be safe for a while. But in the end, I believe that I was doing what you asked of me—looking for the magic hiding in plain sight, and recording it, so that one day you might have a book of all human knowledge, and of all the world’s magic. I guess I was just doing my job. And to a Nain, there is nothing more important than that. So I think that’s my reason.”

  The king’s blue eyes crinkled as he smiled widely.

  “That seems like a very good reason, then,” he said. “And if that is going to be your main reason for all your adventures, I have something for you that I think might help you.”

  Ven’s ears perked up.

  “Is it the surprise you told me about before I went into the sea?”

  The king laughed.

  “It is indeed. Come, and I’ll show you. Tell me more of your story on the way.”

  * * *

  We tied up the boat, left the dock, and headed south to where the royal boathouse stood, even farther down the coast than the fishing village. It was a towering building with bright flags flying, far more grand than my father’s warehouse in Vaarn. It had the smell of fresh wood and varnish to it, so even from a few streets away it made me feel homesick.

  The king had taken off his fishing hat and coat, so by the time we reached the doors the guards recognized him, and quickly obeyed his order to stand away. He held the door open for me, then followed me inside.

  In the dim light I could see the outline of several ships, all of them moored in the shallows of the southern coast. King Vandemere led me up to a long dry dock and invited me to follow him down it.

  Alongside it stood the most beautiful ship I have ever seen in my life. I felt suddenly guilty, disloyal to my family’s business, because this vessel was as magnificent a sailing ship as I had ever seen, even more splendid than any ship my father had ever manufactured. Then, a moment later, I noticed some scrollwork on the hull and some cables that looked very familiar.