The Deep (15 page)

“Thank you,” I tell Ben when we say our
goodbyes a while later. “I will ask Saul to write you a letter back
this time.”

“He doesn’t need to.” He draws a deep breath.
“As long as he’s reading mine.”

The next day is crammed full of odd jobs for
me. It looks like there’s going to be regular correspondence
between both sides of the island, facilitated by me offering my
services. I deliver and pick up letters in Hope Harbor, the
agricultural suburbs, Newexter, and our new shipyard.

I save Ben’s letter for last. Why exactly, I
don’t know. After all, the first time I had to meet up with Saul
alone made me incredibly nervous, and if I visit him at the end of
my working day, I won’t have an excuse to leave soon. A part of me
doesn’t want to admit that I enjoy talking to him. He’s not the
most pleasant person I know, but he fuels my fighting spirit. I
want to let him know that I changed things around and told Phileas
off, thanks to his words.

When I ride into the clearing in the late
afternoon, Saul is standing in front of his cabin, fixing a sharp
hook to an angling rod in deep concentration. His dark eyes dart
toward me as I dismount, and just for a split moment he seems happy
to see me. Then, he focuses again on the task at hand.

“Has Ben smoked his way through all the
leaves already?” he asks me with a faint grin.

“No, of course not,” I laugh a bit nervously.
“I, uhm… have another letter for you.”

“Well, well. I guess Ben has a lot to
say.”

I roll my eyes. “Are you really surprised? He
misses you, you know.”

Saul puts the rod away and walks over to me.
“How did your visit to the Bookkeeper go yesterday?”

“It went well.” I smile. “To be honest, I
kind of shouted at some people during the council meeting. And
everybody agreed with me on account of Phileas, even the Bookkeeper
himself. He warned him.” When he says nothing, I add uncertainly:
“So, yeah, thanks again for your advice.”

Saul nonchalantly rakes a hand through his
black hair. “My pleasure.” He takes the letter I hand to him and
reads through Ben’s epistle with a slight smile.

“Are you going fishing?” I ask, rather
redundantly.

“Yes.” He looks at me. “You tagging
along?”

“Me?”

The corners of Saul’s mouth tip up in a
smile. “Yeah, you. Aren’t Fools supposed to be really good at
sailing and fishing? Who knows, you might be able to give
me
some advice this time. Besides, don’t you want to take a look at
your secret shipyard?”

“Yeah.” I slowly nod. “I do.”

“Come on.” He gestures at the track leading
from the clearing and cutting through the forest in the direction
of the sea. “It’s not that far.”

Without waiting for my answer he starts to
walk away. I follow him feeling slightly annoyed. Had I agreed to
his plan yet? “I do have to leave before dark, though,” I vaguely
protest. “I always have an early dinner with my parents.”

Saul slows down so I can fall into step with
him. “Just have dinner at my place,” he suggests. “And if I catch a
lot of fish thanks to you, I’ll even cook for you.”

“What if I turn out to be a lousy angler?” I
object.

He laughs briefly. “You’ll still need to
stick around. I want to write Ben a letter back this time, and I’ll
only have time for that after dinner.”

“I could come back tomorrow.”

His eyes run dark. “You don’t want to have
dinner with me?”

I silently let my gaze trail over the hard
lines around his mouth before taking in his arms and hands, which
look tense. “I’m not saying that,” I mumble. “I just don’t take
kindly to being ordered around. You could ask me nicely, you
know.”

Saul bows his head and picks up speed again.
“I don’t like asking nicely,” he says.

“Why not?”

“Because people might say no.” His own
admission seems to shock him into silence. He doesn’t look back
anymore when he breaks away from the track and finds his way
through a dense patch of woodland. My eyes are fixed on his dark
hair and muscular shoulders. I observe how he gracefully jumps over
tree roots and pushes away the undergrowth without making much
sound at all. Saul is a survivor and a hunter. He is used to
getting what he wants, because he knows how to take care of
himself. Something in his toughness once again reminds me of
Yorrick, though I know my boyfriend had that attitude because he
was hiding his insecurity. But this young man isn’t insecure as
much as scared of being hurt. He strikes before others can beat him
to it.

Saul is right – the beach is quite close.
After a ten-minute walk in silence, we reach the edge of the
forest, standing on a large rock looking out over the sands. He
points to the left. “We need to go that way to get to the harbor.
You want to walk across the sand or stick to the rocks up
here?”

“The beach,” I decide. Walking through sand
is good practice. I love sports, and I feel lazy for having been in
the saddle all day. “Just walk with me, that’ll be easier.”

Saul cocks an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

I give him a winsome smile. “Annoying, huh,
when people decide for you and then pretend they asked you?”

For a second, he is completely dumbfounded.
“Yeah, I tend to do that,” he admits without argument. “You’re
right.” He goes on to grin at me widely. “Why are you being so
nasty? Ben’s friends aren’t your friends?”

“Is Ben really your friend?” I ask rather
sharply. “Didn’t he want to start a new life without you? He must
have had his reasons.”

“He said that?”

“Yes,” I simply say.

Saul takes a step closer. “If you think he’s
better off without me, don’t bring me any more letters,” he mumbles
from up close.

“No.” I swallow the lump in my throat. “I
don’t think that. I was the one telling him not to stop talking to
you altogether.”

“Really.” He fixes me with his gaze. “You
don’t strike me as my biggest fan.”

“Can’t handle criticism very well, can you?”
I conclude. “I thought you wanted my advice?”

“About fishing,” he states drily.

“Then accept my sincere apology.” I shrug
brusquely. “Let’s just keep walking.”

“Through here,” Saul says, pointing at a
flat, sandy path between two dunes.

I draw a deep breath to point out that he’s
bossing me around yet again, when I suddenly catch him smiling
faintly. “Stop that,” I mutter.

He offers me his hand and I take it without
thinking. After all, we need to climb down along a steep path to
get to the beach, and Saul knows the safest way.

After a brisk walk we end up at the
easternmost tip of the island. I see that the tiny harbor looks a
bit like ours with regard to layout of quays and jetties – it’s
just a lot smaller. Six out of the eight men working on the ship
are sawing planks and beams from the trees they’ve chopped down
together with the easterners. I don’t see the other two
anywhere.

“I’m going to have a quick chat with them,” I
inform Saul. “By the way, shore angling is done best using living
bait like little crabs. In case you don’t know yet.”

He shoots me a small smile. “I do. But thank
you.”

Talking to the work team cheers me up because
it’s evident they have teamed up with the youngsters from Newexter
pretty well. Like the Eldest suggested, they turned it into a
school project. Building ships should belong to us all – the
Unbelievers should work on reaching the World across the Waters
just as much as we do.

When I walk back to the place along the
shoreline where I left Saul, he’s standing in the surf, his legs
wide apart and his hands holding his fishing rod. I can make out a
few fish thrashing around in the bag slung across his chest.

“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “You’re doing just
fine without me looking over your shoulder.”

“Fortunately, yes,” Saul replies. “If not I
would have starved to death by now.”

I burst out laughing. “So are you going to
share the catch of the day with me?”

He looks at me good-humoredly. “Sure. Ben’s
friends do happen to be my friends, you know.”

I look away, feeling a bit ashamed. “I’m
sorry I was being so mean before.”

Saul shrugs. “No harm done. I was the one
telling you to toughen up your act, right?”

We stop talking after that. He casts his line
again, and before long he’s caught two more fish. I’m standing a
couple of yards away from him, the surf splashing over my feet and
ankles. The long, blue dress I’m wearing today is getting wet at
the hem. I lift Yorrick’s shawl from my shoulders and hold it up in
the wind blowing from behind me. The sheer, white fabric flutters
in the breeze and stretches out toward the cloudy skies above my
head, as if it’s reaching for the horizon that has come so much
closer than before.

What I’m doing here is no longer a salute to
Annabelle or to my dead boyfriend. I know there’s no point in
waiting for either of them anymore. I’m standing here trying to say
goodbye, to let go of things. Without that, I can’t start anything
new.

And then, the shawl slips from between my
fingers almost unnoticed. The wind takes it and picks it up like a
white bird I’ve set free. Resignation mixes with sadness as I stare
after Yorrick’s gift to me. Maybe it’s better this way. We let our
dead set sail for the unknown lands beyond the horizon. If I kept
the shawl forever, I’d bury my soul, just like the Newexter dead
are forever trapped beneath the earth of their burial grounds.

To my astonishment, Saul suddenly steps
aside, throws his rod into the water and pushes his bag full of
fish into my arms. “Alisa, hold this,” he tells me.

Without hesitation, he jumps into the waves
to chase my shawl, which has passed the surf and is now on its way
to infinity, dancing in the wind caressing the sea. Saul dives into
the water and plows through the surf, his strong hands pushing away
the waves that separate him from my white farewell. He swims fast.
I can’t believe he manages to beat the wind stealing away my shawl,
but he does – after a minute his hand shoots out of the water,
triumphantly clasping the fabric to take it back to me. He even
manages to keep it fairly dry, because he’s only using one arm to
swim back.

“Here you go,” he pants as he emerges from
the waves and makes his way over to me, soaked to the bone. “You
should be careful. It’s pretty windy today.”

I wordlessly stare at him when he hands me
back my shawl. “Thanks,” I mumble at last.

Saul smiles. “You’re welcome. I know that
thing is important to you.”

“How do you know?” I ask, perplexed.

“Just the way you caress the fabric with your
hands when you walk around wearing it.” He pushes his wet, black
hair out of his face. “Did Yorrick give it to you?”

“Yes.” I stare at my hands holding the shawl
and the bag of fish. “A long time ago.”

Saul just nods. “Shall we go?” he says. “I’m
kind of cold. And we have enough fish for a nice meal.”

I follow him on his way out of the water.
When he pulls his wet shirt over his head to wring it out, I look
away, then curiously look back again. Saul’s broad back is lightly
tanned and covered in small scars on one side. I wonder what
happened there. An accident? Gingerly, my eyes rove over his
shoulders and strong arms as he keeps walking.

He startles me by suddenly turning around.
“Isn’t that bag too heavy?”

“No, I’m all right,” I reply, a nervous smile
on my lips. “But you may carry my shawl if you want to make
yourself useful.”

Saul grins. “Tough girl,” he teases me. His
eyes turn darker, his gaze lingering on my face.

I feel myself starting to blush. “Just keep
walking,” I mutter. “I’m hungry.”

“Sure,” I hear him say. I hope he’s not
wondering why I’m so red.

I don’t even really know it myself.

By the time I get to the Hope Harbor suburbs,
the sun has almost set. Fortunately, I made it home before dark,
because the Scilly Way isn’t illuminated anywhere. Another useful
project we could be setting up, in my opinion.

I immediately know something is wrong when I
step into the living room and I see Daryl sitting at the table with
my parents, their faces drawn. “What happened?” I blurt out.

My dad gets up. “There’s been an attempt at
destroying the St Martin shipyard,” he says solemnly. “Part of the
ship was damaged, and people were injured.”

“Is Ben okay?”

“Not really,” Daryl replies. “His shoulder
was hit by a burning torch, so he was admitted to hospital.”

Mary and Agnes on a raft. I hadn’t foreseen
this would happen when I suggested the St Martin diversion. I’d
hoped Phileas would strike when no one was around. What’s more, I
hadn’t really expected him to do anything anymore, not after the
Bookkeeper’s official warning. “Was Phileas leading those
terrorists?” I ask in surprise.

My mom shakes her head. “At the time of the
attack, Phileas was speaking at one of his own temple services for
pious Hope Harborers. I was there to keep an eye on the
ceremony.”

“He’s laughing in our faces, the bastard,” I
explode. “We know he’s behind the whole thing! Who else could it
be?”

“Unfortunately, the burden of proof is on
us,” Daryl says grimly. “The people who were arrested this time
won’t rat him out. They believe in the higher goal of their
violence.”

“Do you mind if I drop by the hospital to see
Ben?” I ask, looking from my mother to my father.

My dad smiles. “Of course we don’t, darling.
You have your own life. You work for the Bookkeeper, for crying out
loud. Go visit your friend.”

His words make me realize that he’s not
entirely correct. I postponed having my own life up until this
point. After Yorrick’s death, I focused solely on school work, and
if I didn’t have any, I would help my mom at the market or my dad
in the production administration office. Things turned around when
Walt told me about my boyfriend’s murder and we set out to
investigate what had happened, though. It awakened something deep
inside of me. And now, I want to be someone without proving myself
through academic achievements or good work ethics. I want to feel
safe in my own world even if I’m not with my parents.