PathFinder

by Angie Sage

  As Tod listened to the sounds of the Sarn household beginning to stir, her fear ebbed away and she realized that for the first time since her father had gone, she felt safe. She drifted into a comfortable half sleep, with the sound of the wind and the rain outside, luxuriating in the feeling of being secure inside.

  At breakfast Rosie Sarn took charge. The long, scrubbed table was set for seven, and Rosie, small and round with her dark curly hair worn in a thick plait, sat at the end of the table, cutting slices of bread from a long loaf while Jonas Sarn fussed about the stove, frying the breakfast sardines. Ranged along benches on either side of the table were the Sarn family. Next to Rosie was little Torr, five years old, his dark hair sticking up on end as it always did, his bright blue eyes big with the knowledge that something exciting had happened last night that no one would tell him about. Next to him sat Oskar and next to Oskar was an empty plate that would stay that way all through breakfast—this was Ferdie’s place, which Rosie Sarn laid for every meal.

  Tod sat quietly opposite Torr. Beside her Jerra—tall, lanky and brown from the sea—fiddled awkwardly with his knife. No one spoke. It felt as though there was too much to say, that once they began to talk they would not be able to stop. Rosie passed the slices of bread along the table and Jonas arrived with a pan of sizzling sardines. They ate quietly, the clink of the knives and the bubbling of the coffeepot the only sounds to break the silence. Torr gazed from one face to another, trying to figure out what had happened, impatient to know. In the middle of chewing his last sardine he said, “Tod, did Aunt Mitza go ’way?”

  “Torr, please don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Rosie.

  Torr swallowed his sardine. “But did she? Because Aunt Mitza doesn’t like us, does she, Tod? That’s why you can’t come and stay with us anymore. But now you are here.” Torr smiled. “Which is very, very nice.”

  Tod smiled back at Torr. “Torr, you would not believe how nice it is to be here,” she said, glancing uncertainly at Rosie. Tod was unsure how much to say in front of Torr. She didn’t want to scare him. Rosie shook her head in warning.

  But Torr was not to be put off. “So did Aunt Mitza go ’way?” he persisted, adding, “I hope she did, because she was horrid.” He glanced at his mother, expecting her to tell him that he must not call anyone horrid, but his mother said nothing.

  The memory of the thin, high scream that Tod had heard on the dunes played back in her head—and not for the first time that morning. “I think,” she said slowly, “that maybe I ought to go and see . . . see if Aunt Mitza really has, er, gone away.”

  Jonas, a man of few words, spoke for them all. “We will come with you,” he said.

  OUT OF THE BOX

  Aunt Mitza was gone.

  Tod, Oskar, Jonas and Jerra stood in the wreckage of the room where a little more than twelve hours before, Oskar had sat eating a very awkward supper. They had searched the house and found nothing but destruction. Tod thought it looked as though the storm had swept through the inside of the house, leaving the outside oddly untouched. Except, she thought, a storm left a freshness in the air when it abated, and the smell inside the house was anything but fresh.

  Oskar wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It smells revolting.”

  “It smells of fear,” Tod said somberly. “Poor Aunt Mitza. She must have been terrified.”

  Oskar looked at Tod in amazement. “Poor Aunt Mitza? Tod, all this was Aunt Mitza’s own doing. She brought those creatures here. And it was you who was meant to be terrified. And you who would have been gone this morn—” Oskar gulped. The thought of coming here and finding Tod gone was too much.

  Jonas took charge. “Children, enough,” he said in his soft PathFinder lilt. “We shall not think of what might have been, but of what is to be.” He turned to Tod, addressing her by her formal name as the older ones always did. “Alice, you must not remain here. Our home is now your home. Is there anything you need to bring with you?”

  Tod nodded. “A box. In my room.”

  “Oskar, go up with Alice and help her bring the box,” said Jonas.

  Tod was shocked when she saw her room. Its contents had been reduced to little more than matchwood. It reminded her of a wrecked ship she had once seen pounded into smithereens by the surf. She shuddered. Something had got very angry in this room. Oskar was equally dismayed. He guessed that Tod’s box lay smashed on the floor along with everything else.

  But Tod seemed unconcerned. She waded through the debris to the window and kicked away a pile of shredded bedclothes mixed with the remains of a chair, exposing the bare floorboards beneath. Tod kneeled down and drew out what looked like a short pencil. She pressed the end of the “pencil” and it flipped out to become a screwdriver. Oskar smiled—it was the present he had given Tod for her twelfth birthday. Tod unscrewed a small section of floorboard, pulled the board up and reached in. She looked up at Oskar, smiling. “Still here,” she said.

  It was a small, exquisite box carved from lapis lazuli. It sat neatly on Tod’s open hand, the lapis—dark blue with streaks of gold—glinting in a small beam of sunlight. Each corner of the box was protected by a tiny piece of curved silver and the edges reinforced with strips of battered darkened silver.

  “It’s so beautiful,” said Oskar.

  Tod smiled. “It is, isn’t it? It’s a family treasure. It belonged to . . . to Dad.” Tod opened the box to show a bright blue felt lining with a molded hollow in which lay a silver filigree pointer shaped like a long, thin triangle with a delicate arrow-tipped point. It had a hollow lapis dome at the flat end of the triangle, which had a thick curl of silver on its opposite side with a hole in it. Beside it was a tiny padded leather triangle with a small onyx sphere on one of its points. Tod took out the pointer and showed it to Oskar. “It’s called a PathFinder.”

  “Just like us,” said Oskar.

  “Yeah,” said Tod. “Dad gave it to me just before the Circle, because that is when his father gave it to him. He said it had been handed down to the oldest child since the days before we went to the—” Tod stopped, realizing she was about to tell Oskar a Circle secret. “Anyway,” she said hurriedly, “it fits together like this . . .” Tod picked up the onyx sphere and held its leather triangle between her finger and thumb. She placed the hollow dome of the PathFinder over the sphere. The filigree pointer pivoted gently, swinging back and forth, and Oskar had the impression that the dome was actually floating on the sphere.

  “It’s a compass,” he said. “The most beautiful one I have ever seen.”

  “But it’s not a proper compass, is it?” said Tod. “Because there are no compass points.”

  Oskar frowned. “I suppose. But it does look like it is showing you the way to somewhere, all the same.”

  Tod gave Oskar a lopsided smile. “Wish it would show me the way to Dad,” she said sadly.

  Oskar quickly changed the subject. “Hey, look. You’ve got a really cool snake ring, too.”

  Tod gently laid the PathFinder back in the box and picked up the ring, which was nestling in a corner. It was formed from two thick bands of gold and silver—the snakes—twisted together. The snakes’ heads met in the front of the ring and curled around each other, looking up at the wearer. “It was my mother’s,” said Tod.

  “Oh,” said Oskar. He wished he hadn’t pointed out the ring now. Everything reminded Tod of the people she had lost. Oskar hadn’t thought of it before, but he suddenly realized that Tod was an orphan. “Orphan” was such a sad and lonely word, Oskar thought.

  Tod was still holding the snake ring. “I’m going to wear it when it fits me,” she said.

  “I think it will fit now,” Oskar said, hoping to cheer things up a little. “It will go on your thumb.”

  “Oh,” said Tod. “I think it will.” She slipped her mother’s ring onto her right thumb and to her surprise, the silver and gold snakes sat snug and tight. It belonged, and Tod felt like she had somehow grown up. “Oskie,” she said, “I’ve made up my
mind.”

  “About what?” Oskar looked worried.

  “Stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  “Stuff . . . like not waiting around for things to happen. Like making things happen ourselves. Oskie, you and I are going to look for Ferdie. We are going to find her and bring her home.”

  A broad smile spread over Oskar’s face. “You bet,” he said.

  PLANS

  Jonas went to check his boat after the night’s storm, while Tod, Oskar and Jerra set off back to the Sarn house. The storm had left behind a deep blue sky with white scudding clouds and the smell of damp sand. The sun was warm and the air felt fresh and clean. They stood on the beach, watching the wind cut across the dune grasses.

  “Jerra,” said Tod, “we are going to find Ferdie.”

  Jerra grinned. “Yes, we have really good chance, I reckon.” Then he stopped and looked puzzled. “But how did you know?”

  Oskar knew when his brother was up to something. “Jerra, what’s going on?”

  “I think I’ve found out where Ferdie is.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Oskar asked, incredulous.

  “Er . . . well, it’s a long story,” Jerra mumbled. “I was doing my lobster pots and I fell overboard and—hey, you two, don’t look at me like that!”

  Oskar and Tod were staring at Jerra, shocked. It was considered shameful to fall out of one’s boat.

  “It wasn’t so bad,” Jerra protested. “I caught hold of the rope as I fell and this Trading Post girl, Annar, she was fishing nearby and she helped me get back in. So we got talking. And I told her about Ferdie—”

  Oskar was cross. “You told a Trading Post stranger about our sister?”

  “No one at sea is a stranger, Oskie. Anyway, why not? I want to find Ferdie as much as you do, you know.”

  “What did the girl—Annar—tell you?” asked Tod.

  “She said that a ship called the Tristan is moored up the creek at the OutPost—you know, just along from the Trading Post. People say that it has weird, white creatures on board that only come out at night.”

  “Garmin!” Oskar and Tod said together.

  Jerra carried on. “Annar says there have been rumors for some time that there are prisoners on the ship. A few weeks ago Annar’s sister went missing and Annar sailed to the Tristan to see if she was there.”

  “Was she?” asked Tod.

  Jerra shook his head. “No. But, this is the thing . . .” His voice dropped to a whisper. “One of the crew told Annar that the only girl on board was a redheaded PathFinder, a prisoner who had arrived about a month ago.”

  “Ferdie!” gasped Tod. “It must be.”

  “Yes,” said Jerra. “That’s what I think too.”

  Tod was suspicious. She remembered what Dan had told them at the Circle. “Jerra, can you really believe what someone from the OutPost says?” she asked.

  “I believe Annar,” Jerra said. “And Tod, we who fish for a living are different. At sea we are all brothers and sisters. It does not matter where we come from.”

  Tod remembered Dan saying something similar. And as they turned off along the track that led to the Sarn house, she said, “We have to go and find that ship. We have to see if Ferdie is on there.”

  Jerra looked a little sheepish. “Actually, it’s all fixed up. I’ve already arranged to meet Annar at Goat Rock—it’s an island near the OutPost. Annar is going to pilot me through the sandbanks.”

  “And Oskar and me,” said Tod. “We’re coming too.”

  Jerra smiled. “I was hoping you might say that. Actually, I was going to ask you both. The thing is, Annar can’t go back on the ship; they’ll recognize her. They have kids working there, and to older people all kids look the same. So all you need is to look like you belong and they won’t give you a second glance.”

  “How do we look like we belong?” asked Oskar.

  “Leave that to Annar,” Jerra replied mysteriously.

  The track rounded a dune and the Sarn house came into view. In the window Oskar saw Rosie Sarn looking out anxiously. “Ma’s not going to like us going” he said.

  “We’ll tell her about Ferdie first,” Jerra said. “Let me do it, okay?”

  Rosie Sarn was overcome with joy at the thought

  that Ferdie might be found, but her happiness did not last long. When she heard that two more of her children were putting themselves in danger, Rosie put her foot down. “Jerra, Oskar, Tod—no. I am not losing you as well. Jonas will go.”

  It seemed to Oskar that his brother had grown up overnight. “No, Mum,” Jerra said. “It’s not for Dad to do. Oskie and Tod are coming. That is how it has to be.”

  Jonas reached out and took his wife’s hand. “We must trust Jerra, dear.” Rosie sighed. She knew she had lost.

  At supper, Jerra outlined his plans. Jonas was worried. “That’s all very well, Jerra,” he said, “but you know how they are at the OutPost. They throw PathFinders into prison, no questions asked. Rosie’s uncle was in one of their prisons for years. He was a wreck when he eventually got out.”

  “But why, Dad?” asked Oskar.

  Jonas sighed. “It goes back a long way, Oskie. You’ll hear about it next summer when you go to the Circle.” Jonas fell silent. He suddenly remembered that Dan Moon was no longer there to lead the Circle. “You must take night gloves and cloaks, and always wear your hood up. You must not forget that we Sarns, Moons and Starrs have a sheen to our skin and hair that is easy to recognize.”

  “I’ll be okay,” said Tod. “I have my mother’s complexion.”

  “True,” said Rosie. “But you must still be careful, Tod.”

  “Anyway,” said Jerra. “We’ll be on our way home by nightfall. With Ferdie.”

  This was too much for Rosie Sarn. She buried her head in her hands. “Oh, Ferdie,” she whispered. “My poor, poor Ferdie.”

  MEMORIES

  Later that night as Tod tried to sleep, lying in Ferdie’s bed, she remembered the first time she had seen the Dragon Boat. Her mother had still been alive then, although now Tod understood that she was already very ill. Tod couldn’t sleep then, either. She loved to hear the happy sound of her parents’ quiet conversation downstairs—even though it was punctuated by her mother’s long bouts of coughing, which had worried her. Tod hadn’t wanted to disturb them, so she had gotten out of bed, padded across to the attic window, stood up on her window seat and looked out. It was a beautiful starry sky, with a full moon riding high, and Tod had gazed at it for what felt like hours. She was beginning to get cold and was about to go back to bed when she saw what at first she had thought was a huge bird. And then she had realized that she was looking at a dragon. To her joy, the dragon swooped down and flew gracefully over the house. To her amazement Tod saw that the dragon was also a boat with a beautiful golden hull. At the tiller was a boy—a big boy even older than Jerra was then. He wore green robes with purple ribbons glinting on his sleeves, and she knew at once that he was Magykal. Tod had been entranced.

  Tod’s mother, Cassi TodHunter Draa, was from a Magykal family in the Hot Dry Deserts of the South. Her mother used to tell stories about how she had grown up in a big, round tent under the stars, and how the Draa family were the most powerful Wizards in the land. Tod had longed to be Magykal; she had decided that if only she could have purple ribbons like the boy with the dragon, then she would be. She had pestered her mother and father for purple ribbons, and when they gave her some for her seventh birthday, Tod was ecstatic. And when Ferdie’s seventh birthday came around a few months later, Tod gave her one of her precious purple ribbons. Ferdie had been thrilled, and they had played Magyk games in the dunes all that summer.

  Tod held up her arm and looked sadly at the thin, faded purple ribbon she still wore around her wrist—just as Ferdie did. Drowsy with dragons and purple ribbons, Tod fell into a deep sleep. Six hours later Oskar was shaking her awake.

  “Time to go, Tod,” he said. “Time to go get Ferdie.”<
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  PART IV

  SKIMMER

  It was three o’clock in the morning and four figures were making their way through the dunes in the darkness, heading for the sound of the gentle swells breaking on the beach. The tide was high but it was about to turn, and the ebb would take them quickly along the sandspit and out to sea. Jonas was going with them to help launch Jerra’s boat, Skimmer, but Rosie had stayed home with little Torr. And when the house was silent and all were gone, Rosie felt a wave of despair wash over her—her family was disappearing so fast that it felt as though their house had sprung a leak.

  Skimmer sped along, keeping close enough to the shore to see the lights from the PathFinder houses, heading for the Beacon that marked the end of the spit. The night air was cold and Tod and Oskar sat under the cuddy at the prow of the boat, wrapped in thick waterproof blankets. Oskar took the familiar tiny green felt dragon out of his pocket. “Look,” he said. “I brought this. For Ferdie. For luck.”

  Skimmer cut swiftly through the dark water and they quickly reached the Beacon. Here, Jerra tacked the boat and headed into the deep channel between outlying sandbanks, which would take them to the open sea. In the east the sky was lightening to a milky green, and they knew that soon their boat would be all too visible. This would have spelled trouble for a traditional PathFinder boat in fishing waters so near the Trading Post and OutPost, but Skimmer was different. Some years ago Jerra had found her wrecked upon the beach and, with the help of his father, he had spent many happy summers repairing her. And now his boat was going to come into her own, for she was an OutPost boat with an OutPost name. Jerra had been teased about this because traditional PathFinder boats were given names of stars, but he had refused to change it. “That’s what she’s called and that’s the way she stays. How will she know to answer to any other name?” he had said.