On the Edge of the Dark Sea of Darkness

  Leeli sat back down on the steps at the back of the cottage and continued peeling totatoes, humming to herself. Nugget was at her feet, tail wagging, panting in the welcome shade. Soon Leeli worked her way to her feet with a small wooden crutch and brushed the totato peelings from the front of her dress. Carrying the bucket, she limped into the house, Nugget close behind.

  Her right leg twisted inward at an unnatural angle below the knee, and the toes of her bad leg trailed lightly along the wooden floor. When she was little more than a baby, she had learned to walk with a tiny crutch under her arm, and every year her grandfather made her a bigger one, each more ornate and sturdy than the last. This one was made of yew and had little purple flowers etched along its length.

  Leeli plopped the bucket of peeled totatoes onto the table behind Nia, her mother, who was tossing ingredients into a large pot of stew.

  “Ah, thank you, dear.” Nia wiped her hands on her apron, then pushed a few stray hairs behind her ears. She was tall and graceful, and Leeli thought her mother was so beautiful that the plain dress she wore fit her like a royal gown. Nia’s hands were strong and callused from years of hard work, but gentle enough to braid Leeli’s hair or to stroke her boys’ faces when she kissed them good night.

  “Would you fetch your grandfather for me?” she asked. “He’s been in the garden gathering herbs for at least an hour now, which can only mean one thing.”

  Leeli laughed. “The thwaps are back?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Nia turned back to her stew just as another clatter sounded above them. Her eyes followed the sound across the ceiling to the window, where she and Leeli saw Tink’s hammer fall to the grass. A muffled moan came from the roof.

  “I’ll get it.” Leeli limped out the back door and tossed the hammer back up to Tink.

  Janner loped up to the cottage, sopping wet from the waist up, bringing with him a terrible smell and a swarm of fat green flies buzzing about his head.

  As Leeli limped around to the front of the cottage to find her grandfather, she heard her mother shriek and shoo Janner out of the house, where he was promptly bonked on the head by a falling hammer.

  3

  Thwaps in a Sack

  Leeli’s one-legged grandfather was on his knees, growling at something in the garden. Fat red totatoes hung from the vines; round heads of lettuce burst quietly from the ground in long rows; sprouts of greenions, carrots, and sugarberries—her favorite—were yet bright and dewy.

  Like Leeli, Podo got along fine with only one leg, though instead of using a crutch, he strapped on a wooden stump below the knee. He never talked about how he had lost his leg, but it was no secret that he had been a pirate in his wild youth, and he entertained his grandchildren nightly with tales of his adventures at sea.

  Like the time all eighteen of his crew fell ill from eating a batch of bad ponkfin they had looted from a fishing boat near the Phoob Islands. Podo was the only one who hadn’t eaten any and was left to sail the ship alone through a storm while his crew sloshed about, moaning in the hull.

  “And that’s not the worst of it,” Podo would say. “I tell ye! That was with the Skreean Navy hot on me stern, cannons firin’ and arrows whizzin’ through me hair. That’s how come it parts in three places, see? Still can’t catch a whiff of ponkfin what I don’t get the urge to trim a sail and run for cover…”

  The Igiby children would squeal with delight, and old Podo often got so worked up that he’d need to dab the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

  He was wiping his brow with the handkerchief now as he squinted through the greenion sprouts.

  “Grandpa?” Leeli said from behind him.

  Podo whipped his head round, waving a knotty wooden club at her. His long white hair was frazzled, and he looked like a mad old hag. “Eh? Watch yerself, lass. I like to have banged you on the head with me whopper.” His white, bushy eyebrows shot up and he held a gnarled finger to his lips. “Thwaps!” he hissed.

  Suddenly, a small, hairy figure leapt out from beneath a totato plant and squealed.

  Podo bounded after it.

  Nugget, who had been whining happily, lost all restraint and pounced into the garden with a bark.

  The common thwap was a little bigger than a skonk1—not much more than a ball of fur with skinny arms and legs standing as high as the middle of Podo’s remaining shin. The old man’s club found its target and sent the little critter flying through the air, but not before another one darted out of the garden and bit Podo fiercely on his stump, with its long, yellow teeth. The first thwap crashed into the trunk of a nearby tree and dropped to the ground, where it immediately stood up and hurled a pebble at the old man. It struck Podo squarely in the forehead, and he staggered for a moment, shaking his head while he beat at the thwap whose teeth were stuck in his wooden leg.

  The thwaps squealed and darted back into the garden. A moment later they reappeared, one with a totato in its furry paws, the other with an armful of carrots. They dodged another swipe from Podo’s club and shot into the garden again.

  Podo roared and swung his club above his head. “Avast, foul rodents!”

  A gust of wind moved the garden leaves in waves. Podo’s white hair flew out behind him, and he leaned into the breeze with a fierce set of his jaw. A thwap appeared from behind a sugarberry plant and threw another rock. Podo swung his club and sent the stone zipping back into the garden as the thwaps dove for cover.

  “Aha!”

  A few moments passed as the thwaps squeaked and twittered among themselves.

  Podo’s face wrinkled even tighter. He lowered his club and cupped a hand over his ear, as if he could have understood them.

  Suddenly, a fat, red totato whizzed through the air and burst on Podo’s face.

  “Not the totatoes!” Podo blinked the juice from his eyes and batted another totato away with his club. “Not my totatoes!”

  Just as Leeli turned away she saw him dive into the garden, headfirst, howling all the while. She smiled and limped back to the cottage, which was thick with the smell of breakfast.

  Nia tromped past her to the garden without a word, snatched two leaves from a rosepepper plant, and returned to the kitchen, ignoring Nugget’s barking, Podo’s howls of rage, and the thwaps sailing through the air.

  Janner, who had finally managed to clean the manure from his face and hair, walked back to the house, dripping wet.

  Tink, skinny as a rake, sat at the table beside Leeli. His eyes were fixed on the large pile of sausage sizzling on the stove, and the sound of his growling stomach filled the room.

  “Well! That’s better.” Nia folded her arms and tried not to smile at Janner. “I thought I’d see you with fresh grass growing on your face by now.”

  Janner blushed and shook his head as he took his seat.

  Leeli and Tink tried to hide their giggles, as Nia pulled up a chair and sat with her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands, watching her children eat. Janner stared out the window, deep in his thoughts; Tink hunched over his plate like a buzzard, eating the hotcakes and sausage as if they might try to escape; Leeli watched her brothers and fidgeted with the hem of her gown, humming and bobbing her head back and forth while she chewed.

  “Eat well, my dears. It’s going to be a busy day,” Nia said smiling.

  The children’s eyes widened. “The sea dragons!” they cried in unison.

  Nia laughed and pushed herself up from the table. “The summer dusk hath split in twain the gilded summer moon, and all who come shall hear again the dragons’ golden tune,” she sang.2 “Coming just like they have for a thousand years. Finish up your breakfast and we’ll go on to town. The chores will wait.”

  With a loud crash, the back door burst open and there stood Podo, drenched with sweat and out of breath. “THWAPS!” he bellowed, holding out a sack with something squirming and screeching inside. Podo smacked it with his club and the squealing promptly stopped.

  Nugget yipped and danced at his feet,
nipping at the sack.

  “There are two more of the little stinkers out there, but these three”—he shook the sack—“won’t be munching on any more of our vegetables, I can tell you that. Lousy, thievin’ little thwaps…” He noticed his three grandchildren and his daughter watching him and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry, now. I’ll be tossin’ ’em off the cliff straight into the Dark Sea after I eat a few of yer fine hotcakes, honey.” He nodded to Nia, trying to sound less gruff.

  Nia’s mouth dropped open. “How could you throw them into the sea?”

  Podo scratched his head. “Easy. See, I take this sack here, and I…dump it out. Over the cliff. Simple as that.”

  Leeli sat with her fork in her hand and a look of horror on her face. “Grandpa, you can’t just kill them!” She pushed back from the table as the boys rolled their eyes. She hobbled on her crutch to her towering grandfather and looked up at him with a pitiful sweetness in her eyes.

  Podo loved his little granddaughter like nothing else in Aerwiar, and she knew it.

  “They’re such sweet little things, Grandpa, and they never harm anyone.”

  Podo sputtered and pointed to the scratches on his arms.

  Leeli didn’t seem to notice. “And all they take is a few of our vegetables each year to feed their baby thwaplings. I can’t believe that you would do such a thing. Please, Grandpa, don’t kill the little fuzzies.” She grabbed his shirt, pulled his face to hers, and kissed him on a grizzled cheek. “Come on, Nugget,” she said, and she left the kitchen.

  The sack squealed and Podo smacked it again, but with less vigor. With a grunt, Podo plopped the sack on the floor beside the table and shoveled a hotcake into his mouth.

  “Now Janner, lad,” Podo said without looking up from his plate, “It can get rowdy out there with the festivities going on, and you know the Fangs get even meaner when it looks like we Skreeans are having a grand time of it.”

  “Yes sir.” Janner looked down at his plate and clenched the sides of his chair, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

  “And you’re the oldest, which bears a noble responsibility. It means—”

  “It means that I have to keep an eye on Tink and Leeli and make sure they get home safely. I’ve heard the same thing every day of my life, and I’m not stupid.” Janner surprised even himself. His cheeks reddened when he saw the look of shock on his mother’s face. He knew he had gone too far, but it was too late to turn back. Years of frustration decided to explode over hotcakes that very morning. “What it means is that I’m a nanny, that I never get to do anything I want to do.”

  Tink snorted and tried to hide his laughter by shoving another large bite into his mouth. Janner kicked him under the table, which only made Tink snort again.

  “I don’t want to spend my life fretting over Tink and Leeli, following two little kids around, fussing over them like an old woman and wasting my life!”

  “Son—” Podo started.

  “I’m not your son! You’re not my father, and if my father were alive, he’d understand.” Janner already hated himself for what he had said. He was breathing hard, staring at the stove, afraid to look at his grandfather’s face. His chest felt hot, and tears were coming. He put a hand in his pocket and squeezed the folded drawing of his father. Like never before, he wished he were on that boat, out on the Dark Sea of Darkness, far away from Glipwood and from the way he felt right now.

  Podo chewed and swallowed his hotcakes slowly, considering his grandson in a heavy silence. “Tink, clear yer plate and go get dressed, lad-die,” he said without taking his eyes off of Janner.

  Nia stood by the stove looking at the floor with her hands on her hips.

  The grizzled old man wiped his mouth with a napkin and gripped the sides of the table with his big hands.

  Janner was in trouble. He knew it.

  4

  A Stranger Named Esben

  The door swung shut behind Tink as Nia pulled up a chair between Podo and Janner.

  “Lad, do you know I love you?” said Podo.

  Janner nodded, then added, “Yes sir.”

  “I know I’m not your father. He was a good man. A brave man. He fought well and died well in the Great War, and it’s my duty to raise you children as near as I can to what your father would want.”

  Janner stole a glance at his mother. She fought back tears as she stood and busied herself with clearing the plates from the table.

  “Now lad, you’re getting long of leg and yer voice is getting thicker. I expect you figure you’re nearing manhood, do ye?” Podo looked at Janner with one white bushy eyebrow cocked up and the other eye squinting at him. “Speak up, lad.”

  “Well, I’m twelve! I know that’s not old, but…” He broke off, unable to think of what to say.

  “Sometimes ye feel like yer brother and sister might weigh ye down like an anchor, is that it? Sometimes ye feel like this little town’s too small for the notions in yer head?”

  Janner stared at his hands. With a deep breath, he pulled the picture from his pocket. Nia stopped her cleaning as Janner unfolded the picture and spread it flat on the table. He could hold his tears back no longer; they dripped from the end of his nose onto the picture, mingling with the spray of the sea.

  Nia hugged Janner’s head to her chest and smoothed his hair for a long time. “I wondered where that picture had gotten to.”

  “It’s him?”

  Nia nodded slowly. “Yes.”

  “And he drew it?”

  “Yes.” Nia dabbed the tears from the picture with her apron. “That was a different time. A different world.” She was quiet a long moment. “Before the Fangs. Your father would want nothing more than for you to sail your own seas, and one day you will. But if he were here he would tell you the same thing your grandfather is telling you. There’s a time to sail and a time to stay put.”

  “Laddie, I understand more than ye might know.” Podo’s voice was softer. “But hear me: I was there when your pa died. I didn’t see it, but I was there all the same.”

  Janner looked up sharply. “You were there? What happened?”

  “Aye.”

  “Papa, no—” Nia said.

  “It’s time he knew something of where he’s from, lass.” Podo pointed at the drawing, then at Janner. “Look at ’im. He’s the spitting image—”

  “I don’t see what that has to do with anything. Raising Esben’s memory from the dead will do no good. No good.” Nia’s voice trembled.

  Janner hated seeing his mother so upset but desperately wanted to hear more. “His name was Esben?” Janner hoped to keep Podo talking.

  Podo and Nia looked at him with sad eyes.

  Nia kissed Janner’s hair. “No more. Please,” she said to Podo and left the room.

  Janner was silent.

  Podo was silent.

  The thwaps in the bag were silent.

  Finally, Podo cleared his throat. “Well, you must trust me. I see your father in you. He was a great man. He fought for us. Died fighting for us. Your wee sister and brother are treasures, same as you, and we wouldn’t have our treasures lost.” The old man leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Blood was shed that you three might breathe the good air of life, and if that means you have to miss out on a Zibzy game, then so be it. Part of being a man is putting others’ needs before your own.”

  Janner thought of Tink and Leeli. The idea of always having to look out for them still galled him, but he did love them. He wanted to be a good, brave man like his father—whose name he had just heard for the first time. “Yes sir. I’ll try,” he said, not quite able to meet Podo’s eyes. Janner folded up the picture and looked at Podo questioningly. Podo gave his permission with a nod, and Janner placed the picture back in his pocket with care.

  “So, lad, since you’re so old now, why don’t you and your brother and sister head over to the festival without yer mother and me for a while. We still have some chores to mind. You’re in charge.”

&
nbsp; “But, mama said that Leeli couldn’t—”

  “Hee,” Podo laughed. “I’ll see to yer mother. Just keep yer sister close. Your mother and I’ll be along directly. Can you handle that?”

  “Yes sir,” Janner said, suddenly unsure that he could.

  Podo clapped his hand on the table. “Right, then. Now. There’s something I need you to do for me before you three head out to the festival.” He handed the sack of thwaps to Janner and lowered his voice. “Would you mind dumping these stinkers over the cliff for yer dear Podo?”

  Janner’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “Aw, I’m foolin’,” Podo said with disappointment. “I couldn’t do that after Leeli’s little performance.” Podo reached into his pocket and handed Janner three grayish coins. He took another bite of hotcakes, swallowed and burped. “Buy yerselves some munches.”

  5

  The Bookseller, the Sock Man, and the Glipwood Township

  The Igiby children raced across the cottage lawn, though that was only as fast as Leeli could hobble. Janner resisted the urge to offer her his help. He had learned long ago that his little sister was capable of getting around on her own and that if she wanted help, she’d ask for it. He also knew that while she was fiercely independent, she fiercely wanted them to wait up for her.

  Even with a crippled leg, Leeli was remarkably fast, and her brothers moved at a trot as they wound down the shady lane that led to the town of Glipwood. Nugget padded along beside Leeli, wagging his tail, and if the Igiby children had had tails they would have wagged too. They could already hear the uncommon sound of laughter from the direction of town, and wisps of happy music lifted over the tops of the oaks.

  Janner suddenly felt pleased to be entrusted with the care of both of his younger siblings. He laughed at how quickly his feelings had changed. Only minutes ago he felt chained down by his responsibility—now he was proud of it. Going to town alone with Tink and Leeli was a far song from sailing alone in the open sea like his father had done, but it would have to do.