The Deep (10 page)

The words tingle in my mouth like electricity. Going to the Deep is still difficult and dangerous, but it’s no longer impossible.

“Da yw genev,”
murmurs the whale, and relief pours through me. It’s agreed. She will help me.

The whale moves her head a little. Water swirls and bowls me sideways. I swim back through the waves she’s made.

“Maybe—please, would you mind not moving so much?”

“Moving so much?” The whale shakes with laughter, but carefully this time, so that the water rocks but doesn’t sweep me away. “Your world must be very dull, little one, if
this
is moving. If only I had learned some new jokes to tell you! A basking shark told me one about an anglerfish. I wish I could remember the punch line. You should be thinking of jokes at your age, not of shadows and sorrows. Those come soon enough.” And the whale sighs.

Jokes! This isn’t the time for jokes, especially not whale jokes. “But the Kraken—”

“Yes, dear child,” says the whale calmly. “We whales were the first to bring the news of his waking from the Deep.”

“But aren’t you frightened? The Kraken’s a monster!”

“Yes, he is a monster. But what can the Kraken take from me?”

I stare at the whale. Obviously the Kraken can take everything. Why isn’t she afraid?

“The Mer say that Mab Avalon put the Kraken back to sleep a long time ago, and they think I can do the same.
Have you ever heard of Mab Avalon?”

“When they were young, my children used to play a game. One would pretend to be the Kraken; another would be Mab Avalon.”

“Have you got two children?”

“Yes. A son and a daughter.”

“Just like me and Conor.”

The whale makes me feel so safe and looked after. She’s like a grandma. I wish I could stay with her all day, talking and maybe traveling with her, finding out more about her family and her jokes and her secret sadness.

“I’ve agreed to take you into the Deep,” says the whale, “but understand, little one, you’re going into danger.”

“I know.”

“Do you? Do you really, little barelegs? Have you ever seen the sea running red with blood?” The whale’s voice has deepened. “Understand me, little one. I’m warning you because I care for you, not because I want to frighten you.”

Just like Mum, I think.

“My brother will come with me. He’s got a talisman.”

It sounds feeble, even to me. What good is a bit of carved coral against a monster who has been terrorizing Ingo for thousands of years? Clearly the whale agrees, because she ignores the talisman.

“I will take you.
Da yw genev
. I will protect you as far as I am able.”

“Thank you, dear whale. And you’ll take my brother too?”

“Yes. I will wait here for you while you go and tell him.”

“But—but we aren’t going to go
now
. We’re just finding out about it all. We’ve got to go back home and work out a plan.”

“Are you sure?” asks the whale gently. “I think now is the time. Or never. Never is better, perhaps, little barelegs. Never is safer. If I were your mother, I would choose never for you. But if not never, little one, then it has to be now.”

N
O TIME TO SEE
M
UM
again. No time to say good-bye to Sadie. Everything’s happening much too fast.

Dad always told me I should never promise anything for the future that I wouldn’t be happy to do today.
Some people will promise you the earth for a fortnight next Friday, Sapphy.

I swim back down, through the entrance, and into Saldowr’s cave. To my amazement the cave is full of light now, even though the whale is still blocking its entrance. My eyes sting and then adjust. There are tiny glowing buds of light everywhere on the walls, on the roof, even around Saldowr’s stone couch. They remind me of the lights that guided me through the passage to the Assembly chamber, but these are much, much brighter. I can’t even see the
creatures that are giving out the light because they’re hidden by the dazzle. They make a brilliant green and silver light, cold but beautiful.

Everything has changed while I’ve been away. Saldowr is no longer lying flat. He’s propped up by cushions of woven weed, and a girl with long hair is bending over him, carefully tending his shoulder. Elvira. Conor’s facing me, but he doesn’t see me because his eyes are fixed on Elvira. Faro’s holding a coral cup to Saldowr’s lip. A ripple of laughter reaches me.

I feel a pang of indignation. They’re enjoying themselves, while I’m bracing myself to confront a monster. Look at Conor’s face. You wouldn’t think there was anyone in the world but Elvira. How did she get here? She must have slipped through the gap between whale and cave without my noticing. So it’s not enough for her to give Conor the talisman; she’s got to follow him everywhere too.

I want Elvira to leave my brother alone. I’m not jealous of her—of course I’m not—but she’s too much like Mellina. I don’t want anybody stealing my brother away.

“Oh, Elvira,” I say coldly as I swim toward Saldowr’s couch, “I didn’t realize
you
were here. What are you doing?”

“She’s dressing Saldowr’s wound,” says Conor, without taking his eyes off Elvira. “She’s made a poultice to draw out the inflammation.”

Doesn’t he even care where I’ve been? Anything could
have happened to me, for all Conor knows. He doesn’t seem bothered about what’s going on outside Saldowr’s cave. It’s enough that Elvira’s here, inside it.

I used to like Elvira, but that was before I realized what she’s really like. She was a friend on the night of the flood, and she helped me when I smashed my leg against the granite wall. But now I know that all she really wanted was Conor.

The talisman has opened my eyes. Elvira might as well have carved in huge letters: i want conor to come to ingo and become mer, just like his father.

It’s not going to happen, Elvira. Being beautiful and helping everybody and making Conor feel that he’s the most amazing person in the universe aren’t going to be enough. Conor would never hurt Mum like Dad did. Besides, he loves the human world far too much to leave it. There are his friends and surfing and his music…

But Dad had just as much to keep him—Mum, and us, and the
Peggy Gordon
, and his work, and everybody in our village who’d known him since he was born. And Dad turned his back on all of it.

Conor is still admiring Elvira as she smooths the poultice with featherlight fingers.

“Oh, yes, of course, Elvira’s a
healer
, isn’t she?” I say tartly.

Elvira finishes with the disgusting dark green stuff that looks a lot more likely to poison Saldowr than heal
him. Then she takes a pad of sea moss, places it over the poultice, and begins expertly to bind up his shoulder again. Her hands flicker deftly. I have to admit that she knows what she’s doing.

When Elvira has finished, Saldowr sighs, leans back, and thanks her.

“You have good hands, Elvira,” he tells her. “You have it in your power to become a great healer one day if you study hard.”

I suppress a smile because it so reminds me of Mum telling me to study hard, go to uni, and get a good career. Adults are the same wherever you go.

But there’s nothing to smile about,
I tell myself firmly. Elvira and her wonderful hands are just a pain as far as I’m concerned. Elvira glances up and says with annoying modesty, “I know I’ve got a lot to learn.”

Yes, you most certainly have,
I think.
Like how wrong you are if you think my brother belongs to you.

“Don’t you want to know where I’ve been?” I demand of everyone. Immediately I want to take the words back. I sound like a little kid who’s stayed in a hiding place long after the others have given up hide-and-seek and gone to play something else. I bite my lip. Let them ask me if they really want to know.

Conor tears his eyes from Elvira and looks as me as if he’s waking up from a wonderful dream. “Oh, Sapphy, Saldowr said it was the whale who wanted to see you, the
same one who brought you out of the Deep.”

And you didn’t have the slightest curiosity when I came back. You just went on gaping at Elvira.

“Yes.”

Conor waits, expecting me to continue. Faro is watching this little scene with a malicious smile. He’s far too quick. He picks up everything.

“What did she want?” asks Conor at last, seeing that I’m not going to continue.

“To see Sapphire, of course. What could be more natural?” says Faro.

“Whales don’t come hundreds of miles just because they want to see you, Faro,” I snap. “She knows about the Kraken. She’ll take me to the Deep.”

Conor picks up my annoyance, though he doesn’t seem to realize where it’s coming from, and says in a soothing voice, “But that’s good, isn’t it? It’s what we want.”

“It may be what
you
want, Conor. It’s not you that has to go.”

“I told you I’d go with you.” Conor’s voice sharpens. “Don’t pretend you think I’ll let you go alone.”

“Nor I,” says Faro, and now the mocking edge has left his voice. “Both of us will go with you, little sister.”

Yes, a fortnight next Friday,
I think.
Just wait until you know what we’ve got to do.

“She’s waiting for me,” I say. “She wants us to go now, straightaway. Now or never, she says.”

Elvira freezes in the act of wrapping Saldowr’s cloak back over his shoulder. “Now?” she says. “But Conor—”

“He’ll be all right. He’s got your talisman,” I say unkindly, and sure enough, I see Conor’s hand go up and touch it.

“I’d come with you, Conor, you know I would, but I wouldn’t be any use,” says Elvira, looking only at him and speaking only to him. “I’d hold you back. That’s why I made you the talisman. I can’t even go as deep as Faro can. Blood fills my head, and my sight goes black,” she adds poetically, increasing my irritation.

“I expect it’s a Mer thing,” I say, and shoot Faro a look. He pretends not to know what I mean.

“I know, Elvira. I understand,” says Conor, so softly and warmly that jealousy plunges deep into my heart like the dagger of stone that wounded Saldowr. Why is Elvira allowed to be weak, and everyone’s full of understanding and sympathy, while they act as if it’s perfectly normal for me to risk my life?

What is the matter with me?
I’ve got to stop this. I’ve never been jealous of Conor before, and I hate self-pity. I want to be strong, so why get angry when people think I am?

Because you’re afraid.
Of course that’s what it is. My stomach is knotted with fear. My frightened thoughts are whisking from one corner of my mind to another, trying to find an escape. Trying to find an excuse not to go. But the
whale’s waiting for me. We’ve got to hurry—

“We can’t keep the whale waiting, Conor.”

“Whales know how to wait,” says Saldowr. “The Deep teaches them the art of living slowly. But even so, you are right; for the sake of courtesy we should send her a message.”

He claps his hands gently. A few seconds later a school of mackerel flashes through the cave entrance. With their stripes of green and blue and silver, they’re as beautiful as jewels. They swim to Saldowr and weave around his head and body in a dazzle of color while he speaks to them in a murmur, too low for us to hear his words. The mackerel pattern changes, like a dance when the music changes. Faro whispers to me, “They’re learning Saldowr’s message. They remember in their bodies and then in the school, not in their heads.”

The mackerel dance for a few more seconds, and then they’re gone, streaming out of the cave.

“She will wait,” says Saldowr, “but all the same, we must hurry. We have a great deal to do and not much time. And I think we may be interrupted.” He pauses to rest. His hands clench with pain, and Elvira starts forward; but he waves her away. “Faro, fetch my cup again.”

Faro raises the coral cup to Saldowr’s lips. I catch a glimpse of what he’s drinking. It’s a dark liquid that looks as heavy as mercury when it tilts to the rim of the cup. Saldowr swallows, gives a sigh of relief, and lies back
again. There must be a drug in the drink. Maybe it’s some kind of painkiller. Saldowr should be resting. He’ll never get well.

“Faro, fetch me my mirror.”

Saldowr gives orders as if Faro belongs to him, like a hand or a foot. Faro doesn’t seem to mind; in fact he seems to take pride in how quickly he can do Saldowr’s bidding. In one long, smooth stroke he reaches the other side of the cave and begins to feel his way along its polished granite wall. His back is turned to me, so I can’t see exactly what he’s doing. The next moment a crack appears in the wall, and a light shines through it: a blue-green light that fills me with dread. The tides! There must be another entrance to the Tide Knot from Saldowr’s cave. What’s Faro doing? Doesn’t he understand how dangerous it is to give the tides even a chink of freedom?

A stab of panic makes me speak. “But Saldowr, the tides will get out again!”

“There’s no danger. All you see there is the reflection of the Tide Knot, not the thing itself. Faro is reaching into my treasury of reflections. They go back hundreds of years,” says Saldowr, with a note of collector’s pride in his voice. “I doubt if there’s another treasury to equal it, in Ingo or on Earth. That is where I keep my mirror.”

Faro reaches in and lifts something out; then his right hand feels across the rock again and presses, and the crack in the wall slides shut. He handles the secret opening so
skillfully that I realize he must have used it many times before.

He turns, and in his hand is Saldowr’s mirror. That’s where we saw the image of Mellina and our Mer-baby half brother…and Dad. I paddle myself backward a little. I don’t want to look in that mirror again. It’s too painful. Conor’s looking wary too.

“Bring it to me,” says Saldowr, and Faro places the mirror in his hand, still facedown. “Come here, Sapphire. Come here, Conor.”

He’s going to show us something that I don’t want to see, just like last time. I hang back as if a current is pressing me against the wall.

“Don’t be afraid,” says Saldowr. “My mirror cannot see far today. Look.”

He holds up the mirror for us to see its face. The mirror is broken, shattered into a star shape. It reminds me of how my bedroom mirror looked the day Conor smashed it to the floor because he thought I could see Ingo in it. Yes, it’s the same star shape. I can’t help feeling glad that Saldowr’s mirror has lost its power.

“The Tide Knot broke, and my mirror broke with it,” says Saldowr. “It has lost most of its virtue and can no longer reveal everything that is stored in my treasury of reflections. But it can still show you your own face.”

Any mirror can do that,
I think.

“The Kraken cannot bear to see his own face,” says
Saldowr. “He hates to see it or have it seen.”

“How do you know?” breaks in Conor.

Saldowr raises his eyebrows. “Maybe Mab Avalon told me,” he says drily. “The Kraken is safe while he stays in the Deep because there are no reflections there. Most of Ingo is full of reflections. So this mirror may be a weapon for you. It is not such a potent one as I would wish, but there is some power left in it. Come here, Sapphire. Look into the mirror.”

Slowly, reluctantly, I swim to Saldowr’s side. Now that I’m close to him in the green and silver light, I can see how weak he looks. He lifts the hand that doesn’t hold the mirror, and without being told, Faro raises the coral cup, and Saldowr takes another draft. It seems to revive him.

“Move back,” Saldowr tells Faro, and then beckons me closer. “Now, look into the mirror.”

It’s just a mirror, showing me my own face. Nothing special. Except—except for my expression. The eyes in the mirror are troubled and restless. The lips are narrow. I look angry, jealous, and afraid. I blush deeply and lift my eyes to Saldowr.

“I don’t really look like that, do I?” I whisper, not wanting the others to hear.

“Usually people clean their faces before they look into mirrors.”

“There’s no dirt on my face.”

“I mean that they choose what they want to see. They
see the best of themselves, but this mirror won’t permit it. I don’t know what you’re seeing, Sapphire. No one but you will see it.”

I look again. The mirror returns the same face.

“Give it to Conor.”

I pass the mirror to Conor. He looks into the shattered glass, and like me he flushes, deep red through the brown of his skin. I wonder what the mirror showed him, but I won’t ask. I wouldn’t want anyone to ask me.

“Shall I look now, Saldowr?” asks Faro cheerfully.

Saldowr considers him. “You could look, my son. Are you still planning to go to the Deep?”

“Of course! When have I ever gone back on my word?” Faro throws back his shoulders and lifts his head proudly.

“I don’t doubt your courage,” says Saldowr.

Nor do I. Faro is brave from his flowing hair to the tip of his strong seal tail. I know that he would risk everything in order to keep his promise. But it’s not right. The Mer can’t survive there; everyone says that. Saldowr can’t let Faro throw his life away on an impossible quest.

To my relief, Saldowr seems to be thinking the same thing. “The Mer cannot enter the Deep,” he warns.