Tide Knot
Page 16
“Just as you say. No one would wish to heal you against your will. But we must leave all that aside for now and return to the matter I spoke of earlier. Have you not yet noticed the change in the tides?”
“Tides?” The change of subject is so complete that we just stare at him.
“Yes. There have been changes. You are creatures of Air and Earth; you must chart the progress of the tides on your shores. We know that you measure them. You make tide tables?”
“Yes, I suppose so,” I say, bewildered. “I mean, I don’t make them myself—”
“Are you talking about the way the tide came in when the dolphin was stranded?” asks Conor. “No one had ever seen it rise so fast.”
Saldowr nods. “That is part of it. You did service to Ingo that night, and it won’t be forgotten. But the change in the tides lies deeper than that. Too deep. We fear that the tides wish to reach beyond themselves. They struggle to release themselves from the knot that binds them. We mark it; we study it; we know it; we fear it.
“We fear the meaning of it. That is, those of us who are wise. There are enough hotheads in Ingo who welcome such changes. They rejoice when they hear rumors that the Tide Knot is loosening. Ingo will gain, they say. Ingo’s strength will flow with the tides, and its power will surge to a height that has not been known since the days of our ancestors. They would like to see your world drowned where its borders fight with ours. But wisdom observes that if the balance is disturbed in one quarter, it will also be disturbed in another. If a balance tips too far one way, it must right itself. And it may right itself with violence. I have great fears. You might say,” Saldowr goes on, smiling wryly, “that my fear has grown to match my wisdom. For I study the Tide Knot, and each day my fears increase.”
“What is the Tide Knot?”
“Come with me.”
Saldowr leads us through the thickness of the Groves toward the mouth of the cave Conor told me we could not enter. We halt outside again. Saldowr dives to the seabed, and sand swirls around him, clouding the water. He appears to be struggling with something heavy that resists him. His cloak is thrown back; the muscles on his arms and shoulders bulge with the strain. The sand clears, and we see that he’s lifting a heavy stone from the seabed, a smooth black stone that looks as if it’s been polished by thousands of years of water washing over it.
“It’s a keystone,” whispers Conor.
He is right. As Saldowr raises the keystone, the smooth and solid rock begins to move. A tiny crack appears, a zigzag of bluish light. Saldowr places the keystone in a basin of rock and swims back toward us. He puts a hand on each of our shoulders. “Watch,” he says.
The rock continues to separate. Through the gently swirling sand we see a circle opening in the rock. At first, the circle is small, about the size of a plum. It continues to widen. It’s the size of an apple, then a watermelon; suddenly the circle is so big that I could not put my arms around it.
“Not too close,” warns Saldowr, his grip on my shoulder tightening. I’ve taken a step forward without realizing it. “It is still opening.”
We can see into the opening now. It’s lit from within by a deep blue, restless, roiling light. A pang of terror shoots through me. All the stories I’ve ever heard about monsters of the Deep flood into my mind. This hole in the rock might hide an octopus with tentacles long enough to reach out and snatch us into its depth.
The rock stops moving.
“The Tide Mouth is open,” says Saldowr. “Come a little way forward. Look within.”
There are no monsters, no sea snake or octopus or giant crab. What we see is more like a jewel. The Tide Mouth holds a knot of water made up of hundreds and hundreds of strands tightly coiled together. The knot itself is twisted so intricately, it looks as if the coils could never escape. Instead they twist over and over one another. They pour themselves into patterns that only settle for a second before they spring apart. And then another pattern forms, and another. I wonder how many patterns there are.
“As many as the grains of sand on the seabed,” says Saldowr. “But you must not watch them too long. Even I have been caught by the beauty of their coils and have only just managed to tear myself away in time.”
I blink and look away. The coils of the knot twist in my mind, sinuous and powerful as snakes.
“This is the Tide Knot,” says Saldowr. “It holds the tides and shows them the pattern they must follow.”
“I thought that the tides followed the moon,” says Conor.
“Yes,” I say, remembering. “The tides are the moon talking to Ingo. Faro said that.”
Saldowr nods. “You are right that the tides follow the same music as the moon,” he says. “But they are not the moon’s equals, and they cannot follow her any farther than the Tide Knot allows. This is the knot that binds the tides. It looses them, and it draws them back. They must follow its pattern—as long as the knot holds. We have always believed that the knot will hold until the end of time.”
His voice is troubled. Saldowr stares at the Tide Knot like a doctor trying to treat a patient who has a disease he’s never seen before. “But now we have reason to suspect that the Tide Knot is slipping,” he says in a low voice. Another pang of terror goes through me. The Tide Knot continues to coil over and over. To me, the knot looks tight. The tides flex and turn, flashing like jewels. They are so powerful and so beautiful. I could watch them forever, and they would never repeat their pattern—
“Don’t look too long!” repeats Saldowr sharply.
“Are they really loosening?” asks Conor quietly. “They look as if they are held tight.”
“The changes I observe are very small. Your eyes may not see it yet, but I have observed the Tide Knot from childhood and can detect that there is change.”
I shudder. “The tides could do anything.”
Saldowr looks at me. “You feel it too. You feel their power.”
“Yes.”
“You are right. The tides wish to free themselves. As I said before, there are some in Ingo—some among the Mer, even—who want the power of the tides to be unleashed. They would gladly drown your world.”
“So why don’t you want our world to be drowned?” asks Conor boldly. “We’re always being told about the harm humans do to Ingo. Why do you want to protect us?”
“I have no great love for humans,” says Saldowr. “I have had little reason to love them. But once the tides are unleashed, who will bring them back to the knot? I tell you, there is enough force held here to destroy the Mer too. There is enough force to tear our world apart.
“The balance must be kept. I am Guardian of the Tide Knot, and that is my wisdom. There are other wisdoms, of course,” he adds more lightly, “and you will have to choose yours.”
I am listening but not listening. The Tide Knot holds me like a hypnotist. If I look long enough, surely I’ll see where the patterns begin and where they end. Saldowr says the knot is loosening. Show me, I say inside my head, show me.
The tides coil over and over like snakes. They are writhing now. The blue-green light is strong. A flash of blue illuminates the slippery sides of the hole. How far down does it go? How deep is the Tide Knot? It’s as blue as a sapphire—so blue….
I take a step forward. The Tide Knot weaves in its coils, glistening with power and life. It’s much larger than I thought at first. Only a tiny part of the Tide Knot shows through the gap. It must run deep under the rock, way beneath the ocean. I’m seeing only a grain of its enormous pattern, but if I go just a little closer, I’ll see more—
Saldowr yanks me back. “Get back, child! The Tide Mouth is closing.”
He is right. Very slowly, hypnotically slowly, the walls of rock are squeezing together. As the rock closes over it, the light from the Tide Knot shines even more brightly. We see it roll and coil for the last time as Saldowr lifts the heavy keystone and slams it into place.
My arms hurt. I look down and see the marks of Saldowr’s hands where he dragged me back from the Tide
Mouth before it could swallow me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“It’s time for you to leave,” says Saldowr. He and I have moved back from the sealed Tide Mouth, but Conor can’t tear himself away. He has swum right down to the surface of the rock. The sand swirled violently when Saldowr dropped the keystone back into place, but now it has settled again. The water’s clear, and Conor is scanning the rock, close up. Now that the keystone is back in place, you can’t even see the join. I can hardly believe that the coiling mass of the Tide Knot is still there, hidden.
I want to see the Tide Knot again, even though it frightens me. All that power and energy, enough to light a thousand cities, all hidden away under this rock. Maybe if we wait, Saldowr might remove the keystone again—
“You must leave Ingo now,” Saldowr repeats, more urgently this time. “A storm is on its way.”
“But we can’t go yet. We’ll have to wait for Faro. Conor can’t travel through Ingo without Faro. I know he’s all right here with you in the Groves, but once he’s outside, he won’t be able to get enough oxygen.”
Saldowr’s expression doesn’t change. Obviously he doesn’t realize just how dangerous it is for Conor to be in Ingo without support.
“His lips go blue, and then he can’t swim. It’s weird, because Conor’s much stronger than I am when we’re in the Air. I can support him for a while here in Ingo, but it’s never long enough. Unless—well, unless I’ve grown stronger…” My voice trails off doubtfully, and Saldowr shakes his head.
“You are not strong enough yet, child. Your brother’s will is set toward Air and Earth. That weakens him in Ingo. But you are divided equally between the human world and Ingo. Your will fights itself. If you were undivided, you would be stronger still. You would enter Ingo with all your heart—But enough of that. You must go back to the Air now. There’s no time to lose.”
“Will you take us then?”
“No. I cannot leave the Tide Knot.”
“Then what are we going to do? What about Conor—”
“The dolphins will take you. You know them, and they know you. You have already traveled with them. Wherever the dolphins are, they bring Ingo with them, but they can also leap through the Air at will. Your brother will be able to breathe freely in the dolphins’ company. They will swim with their backs above the water as much as possible to ease his passage, yet all the time you will be safe in Ingo. The dolphins will be glad to make the journey with you. They have a greeting for you, and it will give them pleasure to deliver it.”
Riding with the dolphins again! Excitement races through me. I remember the glory of last summer’s ride with the dolphins, leaping and crashing through the waves, as fast as an arrow and as wild as the wind. Maybe we’ll even meet the dolphin who was stranded. And there’ll be no danger for Conor. Perfect. I smile gratefully at Saldowr, and then I remember the sharks.
They’re up above us, patrolling, guarding the Groves of Aleph as ruthlessly as the seals guarded Limina. Once we’re outside Saldowr’s protection, we’ll have no defense against the sharks. They even attack the Mer sometimes. Faro said so last summer. Sometimes sharks can’t hear that we’re Mer. They want to hear that we’re seals.
My thoughts tumble over and over as if terror were blowing a gale through them. The rush of a shark through the water toward me, its jaws opening as it swerves for the attack—
Are you unconscious by the time a shark eats you, or do you still know what’s happening? “Those—those sharks,” I say. Saldowr puts up his hand to silence me.
“Fine fellows,” he says. “Not the cleverest creatures in Ingo, but they know their duty, and nothing will turn them from it. Come, you must meet them.”
“Meet—meet a shark? Me?”
“Yes. Both of you. Don’t look so terrified, child; it’s for your own protection. Conor!”
But Conor’s still absorbed in studying the rock face.
“Conor!” Saldowr repeats sternly.
Conor glances round. He sees Saldowr waiting with his arms folded, looking taller and more formidable than ever. With obvious reluctance, Conor pushes away from the rock face and swims to us. “Those patterns, Saldowr,” he says eagerly, “they look like writing, but it’s not like any writing I’ve seen before. What language is it?”
“Which patterns do you mean?”
“The ones cut into the rock. As soon as you put the keystone back into place, the patterns emerged. Like—like that magic writing we used to do with water and paintbrushes when we were little, remember, Saph? You saw the patterns come out on the rock, didn’t you, Saph? I’m sure it’s writing.”
I say nothing. I didn’t see any patterns or writing, but I don’t want to contradict Conor in front of Saldowr. Conor tugs my hand. “Come and look, Saph. Maybe you’ll be able to read them.”
“Wait!” says Saldowr. “Could you read any of the words, my son?”
“No….” Conor hesitates. “Not quite. You know when something is only just out of focus? The writing’s like that. If I study it a bit longer, I think I’ll be able to read it—”
“Maybe. But there’s no time for study now.”
“Can you read the writing, Saldowr?” I ask him boldly.
“I am the Guardian of the Tide Knot,” he says as if that’s a full answer.
“But Saldowr—”
“This is no time for questions.”
It never is, in Ingo, I think rebelliously. I can tell that Conor’s just as curious as I am, but Saldowr’s expression is a blank wall.
“Leave the rock for now,” he says. “Trust me, Conor, the time will come. But now you must meet the sharks, for your protection, and get home before the storm.”
“Won’t you let us see Faro first, just for a moment? We really want to thank him,” I say. There’s so much I want to talk to Faro about. Conor’s furious with Faro and Elvira for keeping so much hidden from us, but I’m not so sure. Maybe they didn’t have a choice. Mer life is so different from human life. There’s still so much I don’t understand.
“Please let us see Faro,” I beg.
But Conor says, “Leave it, Saph. I don’t want to see him now.”
Saldowr refuses anyway, and I don’t dare ask again. Unwillingly I follow Conor and Saldowr upward, swimming through the dense branches and foliage of the swaying sea trees until we are out of the Groves of Aleph.
Saldowr glides to a halt. “Keep close together, behind me,” he tells us. Saldowr is so much more powerful than Faro or Elvira that Conor doesn’t need to hold his wrist for support. Just being close to him is enough. “Stay behind me. We are coming to the sharks’ patrol grounds.”
I feel sick with dread. If Saldowr weren’t here, I’d do a backflip and dive straight back into the Groves. But we swim on steadily, close together.
Suddenly they loom into view. The sharks, their huge gray-white bodies seeming to turn the sea itself as gray as death. Their long, powerful bodies, as wide as helicopters and as long as submarines, their underslung jaws, their small eyes. Pitiless eyes. All the things I know about sharks rush back into my mind. If even the Mer can’t always convince sharks not to attack them, what chance have we got?
“I think they’re great whites,” murmurs Conor.
Then the rumors we’ve heard these past few years are true. Great whites are coming farther north on the warm currents. The sharks turn toward us, and Saldowr spreads out his arms toward them in welcome. His cloak billows, shielding us.
“Come slowly, my friends,” he calls. Two of the sharks break off from their patrol and head down toward us. Even under Saldowr’s protection, to keep still and face the sharks’ approach without flinching is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. My mouth tastes of fear, like metal. The sharks mustn’t smell my fear. Probably they’re like dangerous dogs, which can always tell if you’re afraid of them. Conor puts his arm around my shoulders and holds me tight.
“It’s okay, Saph,” he whispers. “Saldowr won’t let them hurt us.”
Those teeth would rip you apart like a power saw. The whale was awesome, but these sharks are terrifying. No echo of fellow feeling comes from them. They are cold-blooded strangers.
“You have done your work well,” Saldowr praises them. “Listen closely now. I bring you two friends of the Tide Knot. Learn them. Know them. Be sure you let them pass.”
He pushes us forward a little, letting the folds of his cloak fall around us so that they protect us without hiding us. The sharks swing their great heads from side to side. I clench my fists tight and dig my nails into my palms.
Conor’s grip on my shoulders tightens. “Keep cool, Saph. It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.
“They are picking up your scent,” says Saldowr quietly. A shark eye catches mine as the head swings. It is cold and dull, rapt with duty. I am not a person to this shark. It will not try to communicate.
“Learn them well,” says Saldowr. “Know them well. They are friends of the Tide Knot. Let the memory of their scent pass into the school.
“Come closer to them,” Saldowr urges us. “We must be sure that they know you.”
If I reached out my hand, I would be able to touch the shark’s flank. It is like a wall. The skin’s so rough that it would scour mine to shreds if they rubbed against each other. The shark’s power throbs like an engine. I can sense it. I try to reach out to the shark with my thoughts, to show it that I’m not an enemy, but its mind is walled like its skin. I can’t get in.
But I’m not so scared now. I think I understand what the shark’s doing. It is separating the thousand fibers of our scent and storing them in its mind. It’ll pass on the imprint of our scent so that every shark that meets us will find us already in its memory and will know to let us pass without harm. It’ll do it because Saldowr has ordered it.