The Only

by Katherine Applegate; Michael Grant

  Unlike a typical boat, it had neither masts nor decks. Instead there were two round hatches, one on the top and one on the bottom. Delgaroth opened the bottom hatch and motioned to Renzo. I watched as Renzo crouched beneath the submerged craft, then stood, his top half disappearing into the interior. From there he pulled up his legs and disappeared from view.

  “It’s dry inside!” he called.

  I don’t know whether it was simply a law of nature or natite theurgy, but sure enough, water did not seem to be rushing in through the hole.

  “Shall we?” I asked Tobble, who still gripped his weighty brick.

  “Lift me up. Please.”

  I eased Tobble into the hatch, then climbed up after him. The interior of the barcabrena was indeed dry, and far more ornate than I would have imagined. Oblong green jewels and round azure crystals dotted the walls and ceiling at regular intervals.

  I glanced at Renzo.

  “What?” he demanded, fingers pressed to his chest. “I was absolutely not thinking what you’re thinking I was thinking.”

  “You realize I’m a dairne, right?”

  “Maybe I thought about it. Just thought. Then I realized if I got caught, our friend Delgaroth might drown me.”

  As if on cue, Delgaroth rose through the hatch with far more grace than we had managed. He shot upward, cleared the hole, and closed the hatch.

  “Here you will be perfectly safe and dry.” He said “dry” as if the word had a sour taste. “From time to time I will summon dolphins. They’ll blow in fresh air so that you don’t become sleepy.”

  “Or dead,” Renzo muttered.

  The room we were in wasn’t large, but it occupied half of the craft, with a small section at the rear with bunks for sleeping, and a larger area at the front closed off by bulkheads. With chairs and a table in the center, it felt like a cozy tavern.

  “Are you all comfortable now?” Delgaroth asked politely.

  Renzo nodded. “As comfortable as I ever am, when I’m in an underwater coffin.”

  “There are drinks in those bottles,” Delgaroth said, waving a webbed hand at the table. “I believe they will suit you. If you are too warm or too cold, simply say it aloud. If you call out, I’ll hear you and summon such creatures as are appropriate. Lavacore eels can warm the craft, and of course the water itself will cool things. I will be in the forward compartment or swimming alongside, as I find air difficult over longer periods. It’s very . . . inhospitable.”

  Delgaroth excused himself, exiting to the forward compartment through a silver door. I heard a rush of gurgling water as he sighed with relief.

  The craft moved with a jerk as the harnessed fish began to move. Soon the ride became fairly smooth, interrupted with a little side-to-side rocking. Tobble, who came from a long line of mariners, walked around easily on what he called his “sea legs.” Renzo, on the other hand, staggered about like a drunk, bashing his head into low portions of the ceiling. For my part, I leaned against the table for stability, trying to adjust to the erratic movement.

  Delgaroth had shown us a hatch in the top of the craft from which, he claimed, we could safely emerge to watch our trip unfold. With some reluctance, I decided to give it a try. As I climbed on a stool and opened the hatch, a single large blister of air rose, remarkably, to encase my head. Poking out from the top of the barcabrena, I could truly feel our speed as the yoked bass churned the water into sparkling bubbles. It was exhilarating. My pulse quickened, and I couldn’t stop myself from grinning. I was seeing a world that had always been there, one that I’d never thought I could know. One the old Byx would never have dared visit.

  The bed of the river had its own fascinating geography. Blue and yellow sand whirled in intricate patterns, delicate as lace. Spiky black rock formations appeared suddenly, sending the current into furious foaming. The yoked fish skirted these obstacles effortlessly, though at times they cut it so close I feared they’d rake our craft over the rocks and drown us all.

  As the river deepened and widened, the banks vanished from sight. We kept to the midpoint between the surface and the riverbed, shooting along faster than the swiftest steed. After a while I felt Tobble tugging at my leg. Reluctantly, I dropped back down into the craft’s dry interior. Magically, my protective bubble evaporated.

  “You should look, Tobble. You too, Renzo. It’s amazing!”

  “I’m sure it is,” Tobble said. “But another amazing thing is my hunger.”

  “I could use a bite myself,” Renzo agreed.

  Instantly a servant arrived through the front compartment to serve us. For the first time, we realized that Delgaroth was not the only natite aboard. The servant was compact and pale yellow, with four spiraling tentacles, two sprouting from each shoulder.

  “Will you try some of this?” he asked, presenting us with a plate of slivered fish and tiny crabs cooked in a fragrant sauce, along with bowls of what appeared to be a seaweed stew.

  We sat at the table, and Tobble dipped a golden spoon into the stew. He took a taste and his eyes went wide. “It’s delicious! What’s it called?”

  “Raakal,” said the servant. “Does it please you?”

  Tobble was too busy gulping down more, so I took a taste. “It does!” I exclaimed.

  When I began to raise a bottle to my lips, the servant gently intervened, offering a strange, thin tube. “Natite ale is always consumed through one of these.”

  Renzo nodded approvingly. “Very clever. Natites can keep the liquid in the bottle distinct from the water this way.”

  “They are called drink reeds,” the servant explained.

  “I take it you have no fire you can use to cook?” I asked.

  “No fire, but heat, yes. You will see as we near Jaureggia.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, frowning. “What was that last word?”

  “Jaureggia. It is the great city and palace of Pavionne, our queen.”

  The servant left and I leaned back in my chair, full but uneasy. “Queen Pavionne,” I repeated. I looked at my friends. “Let’s hope she makes her intentions crystal clear. Just because I’m a dairne doesn’t mean I’ll be able to read her true desires.”

  “No one but the sea knows what natites want,” Renzo said darkly. It was an oft-repeated saying.

  “Perhaps,” I mused, “no one ever asks them.”

  8

  Sunrise and Sartel

  I slept surprisingly well, given that we were moving underwater at the speed of a falcon in flight. The bunks in the back compartment were sized for humans and luxuriously large for me. Tobble actually found his bunk too spacious for comfort. In the main cabin he discovered a wooden crate, into which he stuffed a blanket. He curled up, as contented as a cat. A loudly snoring cat.

  After hours of sleep I was awakened by a change in the soothing rocking motion. Too alert to fall back to sleep, I climbed up to the viewer hatch for a look. The water was the color of wine, dark and velvety, sliced with slanted beams of silver moonlight.

  To my surprise, Delgaroth was in the water. He’d left the craft and was holding on to a hook attached to the side of the barcabrena.

  He saw my inquisitive look and nodded. “You felt it?”

  “I felt something,” I said. My voice reverberated within the bubble, and I doubted he’d be able to hear me, separated as we were by swift-flowing water. But natite ears, like their voices, work best beneath the water.

  “We’re leaving the river and entering the ocean. Thus far we’ve been drawn by freshwater fish, but they’ll soon fall away and return to their pools and inlets.”

  “How will we move after that?” I asked.

  “If you are patient you will see, Ambassador.”

  Again, there was that daunting label: Ambassador. Each time I heard it, my chest tightened and I felt the queasy sense of being an imposter. I’m Byx, a dairne and nothing more, I wanted to protest. I’m playacting. A mere child pretending to be an adult.

  I shook off the feeling as best I could,
and, too curious to return to my bunk, I decided to continue my watch.

  I soon realized it was well worth the wait.

  I’ve seen many sunrises in my young life. But watching the sun blossom when you’re underwater is an entirely different experience. That first spot of light melting on the river’s surface. Long shafts of sun piercing the water like swords of pure gold. Shimmering bubbles of color, drifting down like discarded jewels.

  I couldn’t pull my gaze away, as grateful tears filled my eyes.

  I might fail Khara. I might disappoint myself and my loyal friends. So much could go wrong, so quickly, on this mission of mine.

  But I promised myself I would cherish the gift of that sunrise no matter what happened.

  How the earth can surprise us if we let it!

  We began to slow, as the yoked fish slipped their harnesses one by one, each turning sharply and swimming past my head. Finally we came to a stop, lolling sluggishly in the current. I heard Renzo rouse below. “Where are we?” he called.

  “I’m not sure. The fish have left us, but Delgaroth says it’s natural.”

  “Is there room for me up there?”

  “Of course.”

  In truth, it was a tight fit, but the viewing bubble expanded enough to accommodate Renzo.

  “Wow,” he said. “That is . . . gorgeous.”

  It was a bit surprising to hear the word “gorgeous” come from Renzo’s mouth, but he was indeed right. “Look!” he cried, pointing with his chin.

  At first I didn’t see it, not because it was too small, but because it was too big.

  It was a creature.

  A whale.

  Seconds before it seemed ready to crash into our boat, the whale turned its enormous head upward. It flowed past, a gleaming gray wall gathering speed, impossibly long, huge beyond measure, bigger than any creature I could even imagine.

  It shot upward, exploding through the early sun’s hues and reflecting them all. Erupting from the water, it soared over the craft, turning day into night as the water above us darkened in its shadow.

  “By all the ancients and their pet cats!” Renzo exclaimed. “It must weigh more than ten houses.”

  My heart stopped beating. I could not draw breath.

  The beauty was impossible. The power unimaginable.

  The whale plunged back down into the water. The impact was like a distant explosion. Our craft tilted and I heard Tobble spill from his crate, startled from his slumber.

  “Help! We’re sinking!” he cried.

  “Come join us in the bubble,” I called to him. “We’re fine.”

  Tobble clambered up, perching on Renzo’s shoulders like a child watching a parade.

  “Oh, I see,” Tobble said, yawning. “It’s a sartel whale. They’re common enough in these waters.”

  “Common?” Renzo and I said at the same time.

  Tobble nodded. “Sartels are the third-largest whale, I believe.”

  “The third?” Renzo repeated. “Just how big are number two and number one?”

  “Well, I’ve only seen them from the surface, but I’d say a mature coralskimmer whale is twice as large. Then, of course, there’s the spotted Renner’s whale, which is so vast it could eat that sartel whale, this craft, and two or three good-sized sailing vessels.”

  Renzo and I stared at him with a mixture of amazement and fear. Neither of us liked the idea of a living thing so big it might see “our” whale as a snack.

  “Don’t worry.” Tobble waved a paw. “Spotties are very slow. And they only eat seaweed and krill.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Renzo said.

  “Oh?” Tobble sent me a sly look. “Is that true, Byx?”

  I laughed. “I refuse to answer, as it might embarrass Renzo.”

  I noticed Delgaroth floating near the whale’s head. When the sartel grabbed the seaweed harnesses in its massive jaw, Delgaroth swam back to our upper hatch bubble. “You may wish to take hold of something solid,” he advised.

  “We’re fine,” Renzo said.

  We were not fine. We had no idea what we were in for. The whale kicked its huge tail, surged forward, and yanked on the harnesses so hard that all three of us toppled to the floor. Renzo caught a flying bottle in the nick of time.

  We made our way back to the viewing bubble, watching in delight as we zoomed through the dense curtain of bubbles trailing behind the whale. The craft shuddered and groaned and I probably should have been terrified, but it was simply too much fun for me to bother with fear.

  For several miles we raced along. Then, without warning, the whale moved upward and so did we, as three screams came from three throats. The whale, to our amazement, breached. It shot clear out of the water and we followed, breaking into the too-bright air, flying through foam and sky before plunging back into the depths.

  Deeper and deeper he dived as the three of us dropped to the floor. My body felt compressed by an invisible weight. Breathing was a struggle. I saw fear in the eyes of my friends as they, too, worked to find enough air.

  “I can’t breathe,” I managed, gasping.

  Tobble’s eyes rolled up in his head and he stumbled around the craft, woozy, on the verge of fainting. I reached for him, but we bottomed out and turned back to the surface with such speed that I crashed against a bulkhead.

  Then . . . peace. We fell into an uneasy calm, as the whale skimmed along the surface with us just below it.

  All day and night it was more of the same: long stretches of gentle rocking motion, punctuated by dramatic plunges and leaps. We grew used to the moments of breathlessness, the sudden appearance of open sky, the astonishing, relentless speed.

  The next morning, just as we were beginning to feel a bit stir-crazy, Delgaroth entered our cabin and announced, “We approach Jaureggia, the great city and palace of Queen Pavionne.”

  I raced to the viewing bubble, ready for a change after so many leagues of ocean travel.

  And what a change it was.

  9

  The Underwater Palace

  “Look at that!” exclaimed Tobble, who’d squeezed up into the bubble with Renzo and me.

  I don’t know quite what I’d expected. I’d briefly visited an underwater natite hatchery, an impressive structure made of pink coral and gold stone. But that was a damp shack compared to this sprawling place. In size it was easily the equal of Saguria, the Murdano’s capital city.

  “Is that fire?” Renzo asked.

  I followed the direction of his gaze and saw a long fissure in the seabed, one that glowed crimson as it emitted columns of furiously boiling water.

  “Delgaroth mentioned they have a source of heat,” I said. “Perhaps he meant something like that.” We’d encountered lava from an ancient volcano once before. I had no desire to get near anything that hot ever again.

  “I don’t see any walls,” Renzo observed. “No towers or gates, either. This city is wide open, if an enemy wanted to invade.”

  “Walls don’t matter much in a world where everyone can easily swim over them,” I said.

  We were wrong to assume the city was defenseless, however. As we approached, a group of perhaps fifty natites swam to meet us, armed with spears and small crossbows strapped to their left arms. Some of the guards split off to swim toward the whale’s head, while others gathered around Delgaroth, who was floating just outside our viewing hatch.

  One of the natite soldiers peeked into the bubble, staring at us with an expression that was equal parts curiosity and astonishment.

  “It’s not every day they see a dairne, a wobbyk, and a human down here,” I said.

  “A dairne, a wobbyk, and a human.” Renzo grinned. “Sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

  “Let’s hope not,” I replied.

  The city encircled a fantastic structure that could only be Queen Pavionne’s castle. At the center of the palace was the keep, a round tower that tapered as it rose. The top featured a tall spike with a viewing platform just below the sharp
golden tip. I imagined natites swimming up there to observe the sunrises and sunsets, though I doubted that at this depth they could be as glorious as the one I’d witnessed earlier.

  The entire palace showed no evidence of bricks or mortar. In fact, as I looked at the castle and surrounding buildings—big homes and small, warehouses and shops—all were made of small, iridescent disks.

  “Tarrick shells,” Tobble said, as if he’d read my mind. “I’d heard stories that the natites could harness bivalves to grow as commanded.”

  “Those buildings are alive?” Renzo asked.

  “Rather like the living coral walls we’ve seen in our travels,” Tobble said.

  The most astounding thing to me was not just the surreal architecture. It was how brightly illuminated the whole city seemed to be. There were shell-encased lanterns everywhere—on balconies, on poles, on the tops of buildings—all ablaze with a soft rosy light. Even here, far beneath the surface, the city glowed like a giant pink gem.

  As we sank toward our landing spot, I caught sight of two markets filled with stalls. I recognized some familiar goods—things like bottles, pots, and knives—but many typical terrestrial items seemed to be missing. I saw no tethered goats or garilan carcasses, no chickens or horses for sale. Instead, the stalls teemed with cages full of living fish, seabeards, and halvids. Small mountains of shellfish, oysters, fillicks, clams, crabs, and pahdos shimmered in the pink light.

  The whale who’d transported us dropped the harnesses, and our craft began to glide toward the lowest floor of the palace. A school of purple groupers swam close, nudging the barcabrena this way and that until we were aligned with a particular oval opening. We passed through the walls of the keep and found ourselves in a huge open space, with other similar craft arrayed in neat rows. With barely a bump, we came to a halt.

  Delgaroth joined us in our compartment. “Are you ready?”

  “I was born ready,” Renzo said. “Who wouldn’t want to jump out into water so deep that the top of the palace doesn’t begin to reach the surface, eh?”