by Danny Lasko
“Okay, next time.” I set Jane down and give Lily back to her big sister.
“Lizzie, can you see anyone?” I ask. I don’t really know how Soul powers manifest themselves, but I know that Lizzie has found hers.
“No, just you and Mom and Dad and Lily and Jane, but only if I’m being nice to her and she’s nice to me. And Granddad.”
“What?” My eyes feel like they’ve popped out of my skull, which they must have done because Lizzie’s eyes do the same. She laughs. But I don’t join her. Granddad York, my mother’s father, is supposed to be dead.
“You … see Granddad, Lizzie? You mean, like you watch me?”
“Well, yeah.”
The sudden idea washes over me, clearing the despair and anger chaining me thanks to Valor’s betrayal. Granddad’s alive.
“Where is he, Lizzie? Where do you see him?”
“I don’t know, but it’s bad,” she says. “He digs holes. He’s dirty. And his beard is really white and a lot longer than it used to be. And he’s sick.”
I nod, trying to swirl the thoughts into an order that tells me what this really means. I mean, Granddad York is alive! He could help me. Help me what? What is it I’m going to do?
“You are very brave,” whispers Lizzie, pulling me back. “Mama says you’re trying to help make the world nicer. She says you’ll make it nicer for us, for Jane and Lily and me.”
“She says that, huh?” Lizzie nods fiercely with a know-it-all grin.
“She says you’re the only one who could do it.”
“Mama’s pretty smart.”
“Yep.”
I engulf all of them in hugs and kiss them both on their foreheads.
“I love you, girls.”
“Love you, too. I’ll be watching,” Lizzie says.
“Listen to me, Liz. No more watching me, okay? No more. No matter how much you want to, don’t do it. It could be...scary to watch. I don’t want you scared, okay?”
“Ah, Horatio!”
“Promise me.”
She sighs and groans but promises.
“Good,” I tell them. “Be safe, now.”
“We’ll be safe,” promises Jane, using her rosy smile to its best graces.
“I’ll see you soon.” I stroke Lizzie’s long dark hair that matches mine, kiss her hand, and watch the two girls skip back to their game, their only care being when their big brother will be back to play.
“Damn.”
“You were going to quit.” My mother stands in the dim light near the door, a tear in her eye. I start to ask her how much she heard, what she knows about Lizzie, but I can’t, paralyzed by the shame.
“But you didn’t. You didn’t quit, Horatio. You found a reason. Even in the most unfair of worlds. And that’s all any of us can do. And that is why you were called. You have always found a way. And when there wasn’t one, you cut your way through making your own way.”
I swallow hard. I put my hands up to my mouth, trying to find the courage to tell her what I’ve done, knowing that not only is there no way, but I destroyed the only way.
“I … I, ah … ”
“What is it, son?”
“My temper got the best of me. Valor refused to help Allen. So I … I burned—”
“Horatio?” calls Linus from behind my mother. I reactively wipe my eyes and focus in on what Linus is holding up: a dark wood pipe and eight pieces of plain brown paper scribbled upon with dark purple ink, clean of cinder or ash. “We should go,” he finishes.
“Yeah,” I say, louder than necessary to try and hide my guilt.
“What did you want to say, Horatio?” my mother asks. I stare at her until I find a deflection.
“Lizzie. Do you know that she—”
“Has emerged? Yes.”
“She says she can see what I see. Wherever I go.”
“It’s called second sight.”
“Do you know how to block it?” I ask.
“Very simple. Just tell your sister to stop.”
“It’s not my sister I’m worried about.”
My mother’s eyes grow wide.
“You’re being watched.” I nod. I see it in her eyes. She knows it’s how they found the Garden. How they followed me to the coast. I see the fear swell in her face as she realizes they might be searching for the Cellar. Without a word, she embraces me. And while she doesn’t say it, I can feel it in her every shaking fiber. It’s goodbye.
“Horatio,” she says finally. “Listen to the Soul. There’s always a right way to go. Listen within.”
12
Play the Pipe
MY DAD PRESENTS US WITH NEW PACKS. New food, a new buoyant liner for our dusters, even a new hat to replace the one I’ve lost. He’s also included a new video com right on top. I pull it out and hand it back to him. He takes it with a resigned sigh. He knows about the second sight. He knows I’m on my own.
“And of course, I got you a shuttle,” he continues. “It’s an older one and not as fast as the Spirit and you won’t have stealth, but it beats walking. I’ll show you how to use it.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary, Mr. Gaph,” says Linus with a beaming smile aimed right at me, the kind of smile that makes me think he thinks he’s won something. Annie’s is even bigger.
“I think Pock has provided us with something special to make the journey.”
“What?” I ask, alarmed.
Linus pulls out a piece of plain brown paper with notes and numbers scribbled on it. A piece of plain brown paper that should be smoldering in the embers of a fire.
I look for anything in Linus’s face for smugness or even a knowing grin, but he’s not looking at me. He’s pointing to the paper with a large number three in the corner and watching my dad’s face for a reaction.
“A pirate ship!” exclaims my dad, astonished.
“Not just any pirate ship,” says Linus. “The Jolly Roger.”
On the note is a sketch of a familiar, tall clock tower. Next to it, a sailing ship with an oversized black flag sporting two bones crossing each other underneath a skull drawn in the middle, hoisted on the main mast. And in the shape of a hook, the words “Where Old Blue goes to think.”
“Captain James Hook! Peter Pan! You haven’t read it,” concludes Annie while reading the blank stare on my face.
“The boy who wouldn’t grow up?” I say, trying to ignore what Linus now knows.
“Exactly!”
“Okay,” I say, trying to keep calm, “Pock has given us instructions on where to find a fictional pirate ship?”
“It appears so,” explains Linus, “though I think it’s time to start, you know, believing things.”
I wait for him to let the news fly: where he found the note and who obviously left it there to burn. But he doesn’t. So I try and keep everyone on task.
“First Baum and now, what’s his name? The author?” I ask.
“Barrie,” says Annie. “James Barrie.”
“Except Pock doesn’t mention Barrie,” explains Linus. “Only the ship and references to James Hook.”
“Alright,” I say, testing the waters, “where, then?”
“What?”
“Where is the ship?”
“Ah. Well, it’s a riddle. ‘Where Old Blue ponders truth.’”
“Old Blue. What is that, is that a dog, some kind of animal from the story?” I ask.
Linus shrugs. “Not in Barrie’s story. In fact, I can’t find anything on it. It’s not in any of the books we have.”
“Old Blue is a river,” says my father. “A very big river. Used to be the main waterway through the USA. Seemed like everyone had a nickname for it. Old Blue, The Mighty Mississip, Big River, The Big Muddy, Moon River,
early natives called it Father of Waters.”
“Well ride ‘em cowboy,” I say, not sure if I’m impressed or annoyed. “Okay, so it’s a river.”
“A big river.”
“How does a river ponder truth?”
“And what does it have to do with Peter Pan or Hook or James Barrie?” asks Annie. “The story takes place in early 20th century London–at least the beginning and the end. The Mississippi River, not even North America is mentioned in the book.”
“You sure it’s this river?” I ask my Dad, now certain I’m annoyed. He takes a deep breath, about to scold me, but Linus stops me.
“It is this river,” he says. I know where we’re supposed to go. Lake Itasca, the headwaters of The Mississippi River.”
“Why do you think–”
“Itasca is combination of two Latin words: the first two letters of the word, ‘caput,’ meaning head. and the last four letters of the word, ‘veritas,’ meaning–”
“Truth,” says my father.
“Exactly. The Jolly Roger is at Lake Itasca.”
“Pock knows Latin?”
Saying farewell to Wildwynd isn’t fun. Annie blinks away the swelling tears as she whispers goodbye to Silver Wing. Even Linus blushes patting Doc on the neck for the last time. I’m not really sure about this pirate ship idea, but for the moment I’m willing to be led. Arguing with Linus is way too dangerous right now. I’m sure he’s just waiting for the right time to drop the bomb on me.
My dad agrees to take the three of us to Lake Itasca, the designated headwaters of the Mississippi, a few hours from here. The river downstream has changed significantly after St. Louis and Memphis were leveled by the Synarch. But the rural source has been virtually untouched. I’m forced to sit on the floor of the shuttle where my view isn’t much more than feet and seat bases, and being blindfolded while hiking down from the Cellar wasn’t a treat either. But I’m not taking any chances that whoever can “sight” me will recognize a landmark and easily identify the Cellar’s location. My family is here. And though I think the Children are cowards, I don’t want another onslaught on my hands.
“They know what trees and type of rock to look for,” says my dad, explaining the defenses, “but it’s a good thing you didn’t see the faces.”
“Faces?”
“Yes, leaders of a long dead past carved into the stone cliffs. Wouldn’t take much to figure out where we are.”
My dad says that they’ve already started to seal the Cellar up, so much so that even he will have a tough time finding an entrance.
“That’s why I asked Jayce to come with me,” he adds, pointing to one of the Children I’ve never met. “He’s got a great mind.”
“And I’ll never forget this,” he says. He’s not much older than I am, a scrappy-looking kid with dirty blond hair and uneven skin. “It’s an honor to help, Horatio.”
I nod and mumble a thank you. Annie must have sensed something because she slides down beside me and takes my hand with both of hers. I love it when she does that, but it makes me wonder what she knows.
“How’s the ankle?” I ask.
“Better than new. So what are you thinking?”
“What do you mean?”
“About Allen, now that the Children won’t help.”
“I don’t know,” I sigh. “Maybe we can evacuate them somehow. How many jumpers are there?”
“Only Mrs. Sterling.”
“None of this is right to me,” I whisper. “There’s nothing–if the Piper–look, if the Pied Piper was the kind of guy to rally the troops and sacrifice himself to save Mira but turn around and ignore the dangers of the world where he sent the Children … it doesn’t make sense. None of this … none of this is right to me.”
I look over to find Annie staring at me with a solemn gaze, waiting for the words stuck to her tongue to edge their way out.
“I don’t know how the song ends,” she says finally.
“What do you mean?”
“The song I sang that led you to me. I don’t know how it ends. The same fifty-three notes I’ve known since I was six, and no matter how many times I sing it, I don’t know how the song ends.”
I raise an eyebrow. “How can that be? It’s your song.”
“That’s it, though. It’s not my song. I mean, I’ve never heard it anywhere else. And I feel it building and growing inside me. But I’m not making it. It’s kind of like Baum’s song in the crown. As soon as I heard a few notes, I just knew the rest. That’s like this, only opposite. But that’s not the point.”
“What is the point?”
“As soon as you walked into our garden, the song burst open, and all of a sudden, I sang five more notes I had never heard before. Fifty-eight. Because you walked into my garden. I think,” she says in little more than a breathy whisper, “this is your song.”
It takes me aback. If the song is in fact for me, then nothing in my life has been or ever will be as important or beautiful.
“And that means that you, my song, and the Soul are connected. And that,” she says, wrapping her hand around the back of my neck, “is right to me.”
I take her soft cheek in my hand and pull her close. But I hesitate, knowing someone else somewhere behind my eyes could be watching. They don’t get to watch this. I can’t stop myself, but I change targets, kissing her forehead instead. She takes my hand in both of hers again and leans her head against my shoulder.
You know you will have to leave her.
I poke my head up. But there’s no one paying attention to us. The voice was clear and strong. Leave her? Yeah, maybe that’s how I felt. But now? How could I?
“Okay, we’re ready,” says my dad. Annie and I have been waiting in the hatch for a couple of hours while he and Linus work out the details of their plan to throw off the wizards. “Button your coats and put these on,” he says, giving both me and Annie a knitted scarf to wear around our necks.
I step out into a blizzard.
“What the … ?”
“Don’t worry, son. It’s just an illusion.”
“What?” I search around and see my father, Linus, and Annie. Someone’s missing. Jayce.
“He’s got a heck of a mind,” adds my dad.
“Great trick,” I shout above the wind whistle. I’m astounded at how real and cold everything feels.
“Is it?” asks Linus. “You’re the only one who can see it, and we have to hurry. Jayce can only keep it going for so long.”
“Lead the way, Linus.”
Linus smiles and starts off toward the winter-covered trees. I grab Annie’s hand and follow.
The snow is so thick and the wind so biting that it’s hard to see where to step. I try and let Annie lead without looking directly at her. She isn’t flinching at the whipping snow. A dead giveaway. Why can’t Jayce show me Jamaica?
“This is it,” cries Linus.
“Already?” I call, surprised. We’ve been tramping through the two feet of snow for only a few hundred yards when we come to a small iced-over harbor hidden around a bend and cluttered with twirling, tumbling trees. How can something like a mythical pirate ship be untouched in such an easy place to find?
I look around and answer my own question. I blame it on the snow and wind when I tell them I can’t see anything, though I sense that Linus is the only one who can make it out. My dad bolts off behind me, and soon the wind dies down just a little, letting the thick snowflakes fall more gently. Finally, I begin to make out the snowy shape of the beak of a bow that widens out into a deck. A chipped and splintered mast towers above it, and tattered, wind-whipped sails barely hang on to the weathered gaffs. And if my eyes are focusing right, it appears a thick and twisted tree has grown directly through a gaping hole in the starboard side hull. All of this i
s trapped in several inches of ice.
This doesn’t look promising.
“Am I seeing this right?” I ask Annie. “There’s a tree growing out of our ship?”
“Appears that way.”
“Why would Pock send us to a ship that has no hope of sailing?” I ask.
“He wouldn’t!” cries Linus, poring over the Pock notes. “Just give me a second.”
“Okay, this is ridiculous,” I say, shivering. “Whether or not the ship is seaworthy, it’s not going to get us to Britain in time. Dad, we need your craft.”
“No, wait!” calls Linus.
“Nah, Linus. It’s no good. We’ll just have to take the shuttle.”
“You have to play the song.”
“What?”
“Baum’s song, from the crown. You have to play it. I think that triggers the ship.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’d show you, but that would put us at risk. I’m afraid you’ll have to trust me on this.”
“He’s right, Raysh,” says Annie, scanning the should-be-cindered brown paper. “The drawing of the Jolly Roger by the clock tower. I don’t think it’s two separate drawings. I think it’s the Jolly Roger flying around the clock tower! Baum’s song makes the ship fly!”
“Play the song, son. Can’t hurt,” says my dad.
“Playing the song won’t help,” I say nervously. “It’s just a song, one that Linus played over and over again at the castle, and it did nothing. No reason it would work now.”
“That’s like saying the words ‘I love you’ don’t mean anything because you heard a dog howl them” argues Annie. “It’s about who is saying it. So get to playing.”
“I don’t have the pipe,” I say, feigning surprise when I reach back and it isn’t there.
“Here,” says Linus, pulling it out from his pack and handing it over. I watch his eyes to see where they’re going, but he doesn’t take them off of the music pipe.
Annie and my dad look back and forth between me and Linus, but he says nothing. A wave of relief runs down me. Perhaps Linus is with me all the way.