The Crossing of Ingo (38 page)

I’ll never be able to tell you how strange and solemn it was when the dolphins bore Dad’s body into Limina. We didn’t even cry; it was too deep for that. I kept thinking that Dad died trying to protect us. I wish you’d seen him flying forward on Byblos’ back, with his trident in his hand. You thought he died for nothing, all that long time ago, in a stupid, random accident. You were so angry with him for leaving us. I wish I could explain to you what really happened. Dad made his choice, and it was for us.

I don’t want to leave you yet, Mum. I think I’ll even be able to cope with the way you keep going on about maths and science, and refusing to recognise that I’m not all that good at either of them. It must be quite hard when you’re a parent and you find out that your children’s dreams are nothing like the dreams you’ve had for them. I never thought I’d be glad that you’ve got Roger, Mum, but I am.

Last night, after I’d talked to Conor, I went to find Faro. He was
close by, waiting for me. We swam to one of our favourite places, about a mile from the Bawns. Faro and I didn’t talk much. It was so good just to be together, not endlessly travelling, not looking out for the shadow of a shark in the distance.

Faro didn’t seem worried about me going away, back to the human world. We didn’t even talk about it much. Faro told me that he was going to meet Bannerys and some of his other friends who’d followed Ervys. Faro didn’t want to see them again – Bannerys was a traitor, he said – but Saldowr persuaded him.
Interesting,
I thought.
A year ago Saldowr wouldn’t have tried to persuade Faro, he’d have commanded him.

So things are changing fast. There’s going to be an Assembly, Faro told me. It’s to bring together all the Mer, whether they fought for Ervys or for Saldowr. It’s got to happen soon, before the wounds harden, that’s what Saldowr says …

“Saph!”

“I know, I know. I’m coming, Conor.”

Granny Carne will help me. Mum will listen to her. Granny Carne will explain. I’ll still be me, Sapphire Trewhella, and I’ll still be Mum’s daughter. I’m not going to suddenly grow a tail and stop speaking English. I’m Mer and human, but the thing that has changed since we made the Crossing is that my Mer blood isn’t fighting with my human blood any more. There was a barrier in me too, and I’ve crossed it. I’ll never have to throw
away my human self, as Dad had to, in order to survive in Ingo. And I’ll never, ever reject my Mer self.

Another minute, and we’ll be in shallow water. It’ll take less than half a stroke to swim to the surface, and then we’ll burst through the skin into sharp, dry Air. The racket of the gulls will batter my ears as I struggle for my first breath. The air will go down into my lungs like a razor blade. Conor will support me and in a few minutes I’ll be used to breathing again. We’ll wade out of the water, shivering. As soon as you’re out of Ingo, you feel how cold the ocean is. Your clothes cling to you, soaked with salt water. It’s like being a newborn baby, all wet and vulnerable. You need food and fire and shelter.

I’m not even sure that my legs will remember how to walk. We’ll come to the boulders at the back of the beach, and the cliff we’ve got to climb. Gulls will swirl around the rocky ledges, screaming out the story of our return. I’m sure they won’t try to attack us this time. They won’t be Ervys’s spies any longer. They’ll have gone back to snatching pasties in St Pirans. And maybe, even though it’s daylight, an owl will swoop down too. She’ll sail on broad, soundless wings, her amber eyes scanning the surface of the sea, waiting for our heads to break the surface.

Conor grasps my arm. “Saph, we can’t hang around here too long. The tide’s rising. It’ll be dangerous once it covers the sand.”

He’s right. The rising tide always grows rough as it funnels through the mouth of our cove. Even on calm days you’d get thrown against the rocks if you tried to swim in at high tide.

Side by side, we swim on until the water is only a few metres
deep. Beneath us the pale sand is ridged by the pull of the waves. We’ll have to rise. I brace myself for the tearing pain in my lungs. It won’t hurt for long. Don’t be such a coward, Sapphire Trewhella. Think of Sadie. Think of Rainbow. I bet Conor’s thinking of Rainbow …

At that moment Conor shouts, “Look, Saph, look!”

He’s twisted round. He’s pointing back towards the mouth of the cove, where late autumn sunlight glitters through the water. There’s someone out there. A figure which might be a boy with a wetsuit pulled down around his waist.

The boy is diving now. As he dives, his body arches and he swings round in a tight circle. Refracted sunlight flashes on his body. Broad shoulders, long dark hair, a tail as smooth and powerful as a seal’s. He turns one somersault and then another and then another and another, so fast that he becomes a blur of speed and foam and glitter.
Faro.

“I thought he’d gone back to Saldowr,” says Conor. “Look at that! How many somersaults do you reckon he’s going to do?”

“Hundreds, probably.”

“It’s an amazing way to say goodbye.” But I know Faro better than that. He’s not saying goodbye at all. He’s making a pattern as he weaves and twists through the water. Suddenly I realise that our journey has made a pattern too. It has bound Ingo and the human world close in ways that I don’t fully understand yet, even though I feel the power of them. Granny Carne said there were others like Conor and me and Gloria Fortune, who share Mer blood and human. There always have been, secretly, and
maybe now that the Crossing of Ingo is complete our numbers will start to grow. I’m going to find as many of us as I can before I go back to Ingo again. Maybe, one day in the far future, Ingo and Air will be united …

Faro’s teasing voice floats into my mind.
Those are beautiful thoughts, Sapphire, but why don’t you watch me instead? You won’t find anyone in the human world who can turn a thousand somersaults without stopping.

I’m watching, Faro.
I touch the
deublek
on my wrist. I understand the pattern Faro is making, and what it says to me.
Two together are stronger than one.
And something else, too, which is that everything that’s happened has joined us together so tightly that we’ll never really be apart. We’ll be away from each other for a while, but it won’t change the pattern that joins us. Faro and I, my dear friend the whale, Saldowr and the dolphins, the currents and the kelp forests, the seahorses and the crabs, the clear turquoise water and the wild black storms, Dad’s voice calling out to warn me before the flood rushed in over St Pirans, even Ervys and the cold fury of the sharks … We’re all woven together now. The future’s there too, waiting to unroll.

I can hear Dad’s voice as clearly as if he were still singing.
You don’t have to wish for anything now, Dad. You’re safe.

I am in Ingo. I am at home.

Ingo
The Tide Knot
The Deep

The Crossing of Ingo
Copyright © Helen Dunmore 2008.
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EPub Edition © SEPTEMBER 2010 ISBN: 978-1-443-40096-1

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Originally published in the United Kingdom by
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First published in Canada by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd in a hardcover edition: 2009

This trade paperback edition: 2010

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Library and Archives Canada Cataloguing in Publication

Dunmore, Helen, 1952–
The crossing of Ingo / Helen Dunmore.

ISBN 978-1-55468-248-5

I. Title.

PZ7.D9219Cro 2009a     j823′.914     C2009-905802-2

HC 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1