The Language of Ghosts

by Heather Fawcett

  “It’s too hot up here,” Mite announced. “I want to go back to the beach.”

  “Then go back to the beach,” Noa said. Mite sighed and kicked a rock. It rebounded off another rock with a crack. Mite kicked it again. Crack. Crack. Crack.

  Noa tried to ignore her. She took out her map of Florean, which she kept tucked into the Chronicle.

  The kingdom of Florean was made up of ten big islands and dozens of smaller ones, which jutted sharply out of the sea in a rough circle like bits of smashed plate. There were also countless islets, most of which were hardly big enough to fit a house and garden on. On the right side of the map was the edge of a blob labeled South Meruna, a huge, jungly continent of several kingdoms, all of which hated magic. Florean didn’t have much to do with them.

  Some of Florean’s islands were basically just volcanoes and no good to anybody, coughing out ash and lava all day and night. Others were barren, with a lot of red rock and prickly pear cacti. The islands in the north of Florean were greener and often had forests; Astrae had been one of them before Julian enchanted it. Noa’s map was more than three years old, so Astrae was still on it. The poor island hadn’t known what was coming to it when the map had been drawn.

  Noa tapped the map. Even if Julian had ordered Kell to speed up, they should be hours away from the nearest group of islands, the Nettles. It was possible they had run into an island that didn’t appear on the map. Possible, but unlikely, given the size of it.

  Crack.

  “Mite,” Noa said through gritted teeth. “Will. You. Be. Quiet.”

  Mite’s face darkened. She was quiet for a moment, and then she picked up a stick and began hitting rocks with it, making even more noise.

  That did it. Noa snapped the Chronicle shut and marched back down the trail, even though she hadn’t finished logging the day’s entry. She walked quickly—she was tall for thirteen, and could move fast when she wanted to. Then, once she was certain she was out of sight, she stepped behind a tree. A gecko hopped onto her shoulder, and she brushed it off.

  Mite came running down the trail, panting, her cheeks red. Noa waited until the sound of Mite’s footsteps faded, then went back up to the top of the mountain and settled herself happily on a rock. It had been days since she’d had a moment to herself. She took out the Chronicle and continued cataloging in peace.

  2

  A Sea Monster Is Suspiciously Helpful

  The magicians were still on the beach when Noa came down from the mountain an hour later. She felt a shiver of nervousness—she had expected Renne to have freed the island by now. The fishing boat was gone, whether because it had returned home or been devoured by Beauty, Noa didn’t know.

  As if in answer to her thought, the sea serpent lifted her enormous head out of the water. Noa paused on the steps that led up a narrow sea cliff to the castle and motioned to her.

  The serpent’s head dipped under the waves and surfaced closer to Noa. “May I help you, dear?” she inquired.

  Noa tried to ignore the sandal stuck between Beauty’s teeth. “What happened to the fishing boat?”

  “There was a little incident.” The sea serpent’s elegant voice rasped in her throat, barely louder than the waves on the shore. Beauty never raised her voice.

  “Ah,” Noa said. “An incident involving the fishermen and your stomach? That sort of incident?”

  The serpent made a shrugging motion with her huge, horned head. “They were terribly rude men, shouting at dear Renne like that. I’m sure he didn’t deserve it.”

  “I’m sure he did.” Noa folded her arms. “Now, because of you, we can’t question them. Where do you think they came from? Is anyone living on that island?”

  “I’m afraid we didn’t exchange pleasantries.” Beauty coughed, politely covering her mouth with the end of her tail. Another sandal plopped into the water.

  “Well, what can you tell me?”

  Beauty seemed to consider the question. Her eyes were the oily all-black of a seal’s, except that each one was as large as Noa’s head. “The island isn’t inhabited. The water doesn’t taste of men.”

  Noa made a frustrated sound. “Then why was that fishing boat here? And for that matter, why didn’t Kell see the island before she ran into it? It doesn’t add up.”

  “Fascinating questions,” Beauty said. “Forgive the presumption, but could I offer my help in investigating this mystery? I would be happy to circle the island to see if it’s harboring any secrets.”

  “Somehow I don’t think Julian would allow that,” Noa said coldly. Beauty was magically bound to Astrae—she couldn’t travel more than a mile from its shores. Sending her to explore the mysterious island would mean lifting the spell that kept her on a leash—a spell that also prevented her from devouring every living thing on Astrae that came within reach of her jaws. She didn’t serve Julian by choice—he had bound her last summer, as punishment for eating three of his sailors. Noa had little doubt that the wily creature spent her every waking moment plotting her escape.

  “Dear Julian,” the serpent purred. “He does like to keep me close. Thank you for the reminder.”

  Noa held her black gaze. “You’re welcome.”

  “Take care, dear.” Beauty slid back into the waves. “Mind the stairs. They can be slippery.”

  Shaking her head, Noa climbed the last few steps to the castle. She wished that Julian would send Beauty away, but as he always pointed out, she was the best defense Astrae had. Half the sailors in Xavier’s navy would sooner desert than face her. Noa couldn’t blame them.

  The castle was really more of a ruin, the remnants of a fort built centuries ago by some unknown lord. Julian had patched it up with magic, but it was still a sorry sight, even with his black flag flying from every battlement. Julian’s flag had a dragon on it and the family motto, Marchenas Are Always First. It sounded dreadfully snobby, and the ancient Marchena kings and queens had probably meant it that way, but Noa’s mother had said that, to her, it meant that a Marchena always puts their family first, not that they were better than anyone.

  As she reached the front door, she tripped over a cat. She knew it was a cat because it was invisible, and because there was another cat watching with a satisfied look on its face.

  Noa picked herself up, muttering. She wasn’t the only one who wished Julian hadn’t given the semi-feral cats who roamed Astrae the ability to vanish at will. This was, of course, every cat’s fantasy, and they spent most of their time that wasn’t occupied with killing defenseless birds in getting underfoot. Julian claimed he had been testing a vanishing spell, though Noa suspected he had done it to spoil them. Julian was the world’s biggest cat lover, after Mom. The cats knew this and took advantage of his indulgence as only cats could.

  A scruffy tabby with a torn ear hissed as she passed. “Nice to see you, too,” Noa said. “You know, in the South Sea, stewed cat is considered a delicacy.”

  She found Julian in his tower. To Noa’s disappointment, Mite was there, too, happily helping herself to the food piled on the table: oysters, tomato salad, and seaweed pancakes. Mite glowered at Noa, then looked down at her plate, which Noa guessed meant she hadn’t complained to Julian about Noa’s trick. That was one point in Mite’s favor, Noa had to acknowledge—she wasn’t a tattletale.

  Julian’s tower room was large and open, the size of several rooms stuck together, which was how he treated it. A huge desk sat in the middle of the space, piled high with maps and sea charts, where Julian met with Captain Kell and her first mate to figure out Astrae’s course. Against one wall was the fireplace, more accurately called the lavaplace, for it held an enchanted cauldron filled with bubbling lava that gave off a nice, even heat without all the smoke of a normal fire. And scattered everywhere were books and mysterious buckets full of dirt or coins or seawater—among other things—that Julian used to practice his spellwork. A flight of spiraling stairs led up to a loft where he slept. The round wall was lined with windows, giving an impressive view
of the sea and the lay of the island in all directions. Noa could see the magicians down on the beach, and the lurking darkness beneath the water that was Beauty.

  “There you are, Noabell,” Julian said. “Off plotting and scheming, were you? You have that look.”

  Noa glowered at the nickname. A noabell was a tiny purple flower that grew in the cracks of dried lava. They were as close to ugly as flowers could get, scraggly and easy to miss if you weren’t looking for them, and she used to resent the comparison. But Mom had said once that noabells were tough and grew where nothing else would, so Noa supposed it was a tolerable nickname if you viewed it from that angle.

  Julian’s chin was propped on one hand in a bored posture, which probably had something to do with the group of sentries standing before him, who must have been in the middle of giving a report. There was a calico curled up in his lap, and he seemed to be in a more cheerful mood, which was lucky for the sentries. One of them, a green-eyed girl about his age, was gazing at Julian in a familiar way. Noa smothered an eye roll.

  Julian had grown taller in their two years on Astrae, though he was still too skinny to cut a naturally imposing figure. Yet there had always been something in his posture or the weight of his gaze that said royalty, even when he was demonstrating a party trick involving dancing napkins or wearing a particularly silly court hairstyle. Noa had often wished she could work out what this was so she could imitate it. As usual, he was all in black from his cloak to his boots to his flashing rings. Mom had worn black, too, which made her look intimidating, though that hadn’t actually been the point. While a powerful magician, their mother was horribly clumsy, prone to spilling drinks (usually raspberry tea) all over herself. Black, she had often said with a wink at her children, was good at covering stains. When Julian had started wearing black, Noa and Mite had followed suit, without any of them discussing it. And so it had become a Marchena trait, like their hair and their crooked teeth.

  Julian turned his gaze back to the sentries, and Noa sidled closer to listen. “How many this month?” he said.

  “Four, we think,” the man replied. “It’s hard to know for sure. Our spies tell us there’s a chance they’ve gone into hiding.”

  Noa knew immediately what they were discussing. It was widely rumored that King Xavier had begun quietly executing known dark magicians throughout Florean, and anyone who protected them—even if they’d never so much as looked at anybody sideways, let alone gained a reputation for wickedness.

  “One of them was only thirteen,” the man added quietly. “Her family’s vanished, too.”

  Noa’s heart gave an unsteady thump-thud. Julian’s hand briefly clenched the arm of his chair. He seemed to remember Noa was there, and turned to her with raised eyebrows. “I was expecting Renne, but I’m guessing he sent you instead, the coward.”

  “He was probably worried you’d feed him to Beauty after that tantrum you threw on the beach,” she said. The sentries gave the sort of chuckle you do when you hope someone is joking.

  Julian smiled and waved the sentries out. “I can hear a lecture coming. Deserved, though—this whole thing is my fault. I shouldn’t have ordered Kell to go that fast. I suppose I was a little excited after we conquered Gray Sisters—”

  “About ‘this whole thing,’” Noa said before Julian could get going. He was nearly impossible to keep on track—his mind flitted from one thing to another like a sparrow. “Don’t you think it’s odd that a captain as experienced as Kell would run into an island?”

  “Not really. It’s been foggy this morning.”

  “An island that isn’t on the maps,” Noa added.

  Julian frowned at that, then shrugged. “The Untold Sea is poorly mapped. Pirates don’t take kindly to cartographers poking around their hideouts with notebooks and spyglasses.”

  Noa forced herself to count to five. “Fine. What were those men doing out here in the middle of nowhere? Why are we so sure they were fishermen?”

  “The nets and traps were a bit of a clue.” Julian barely looked up from the spell he had been perusing. The calico hopped onto the grimoire. “No, darling, get down.” The cat ignored him and folded herself into a passive-aggressive loaf.

  “We need to get the island moving again,” Noa said emphatically. “Can’t you do it?”

  Julian took up a different grimoire. “Renne and the others will have us underway in a few hours. Certainly I could do it myself, but it’s a big spell, and I’d use up a lot of magic. Magic I’ll need to conquer Thirial Island—which I thought we agreed was the priority?”

  Noa stewed—it was hard to argue against yourself. Julian had a lot of magic, but like all magicians, big spells drained him.

  “What if this is an emergency?” Noa said. “What if we’re in danger?”

  “From what, precisely?”

  “I don’t know,” Noa said, frustrated. Why couldn’t Julian just trust her? “But I have a feeling.”

  Julian was only half listening. His dark brows were knitted as he bent over the grimoire. Noa imagined the book snapping at his nose like a turtle.

  She said sternly, “A one-eyed pirate feeling.”

  Julian’s head lifted at that. One-eyed pirate meant something Noa didn’t remember, but Julian did. When Noa was a baby, their father, the king, had taken the two of them on a trip to the newly conquered Severo Islands. They had anchored offshore and waited for a boat to come get them, as the harbor was too small for their ship. That boat had been captained by the former ruler of the Severos, a weather-beaten pirate. At the sight of him, Noa had begun crying so loud that even the gulls fled, pounding her tiny fists against her father’s chest when he tried to board the boat. The king had laughingly sent the boat back, and they circled the island until they found a bay. They discovered later that the pirate—an accomplished swimmer—had planned to sink the boat far from shore and leave the king, his advisors, and his two children to drown. Julian was still convinced that Noa had sensed the man was a traitor. For her part, Noa doubted it. She knew from having survived Mite’s toddler years that small children often went looking for things to make a fuss about.

  “Okay, Noa,” Julian said. “Bring me some evidence that the island is in danger, and I’ll get us moving. Something more than a gaggle of lost fishermen.”

  Noa tried to think of another argument. At that moment, though, Reckoner ambled into the room and flopped down at Julian’s feet, immediately occupying all her brother’s attention as he bent to scratch Reckoner’s chin and assure him that he was a good dragon. She turned and pointedly stomped to the door. “Take Mite with you,” Julian called, to her dismay. “I need to concentrate on this spell.”

  Noa thought fast. “Isn’t she overdue for a magic lesson?”

  “We’ll have time for that tomorrow. She made progress last time.”

  “You mean she stopped blowing things up?” Noa said cruelly, because she was mad at them both now.

  Mite’s jaw fell open, revealing a mouthful of green pancake. “I haven’t blown anything up in ages!”

  “Of course. The playroom windows must have smashed themselves.”

  “I don’t care what you say.” Mite’s face was flushed, her gaze hard. “You can’t even do magic.”

  Noa stopped in her tracks. Her anger turned cold, as if her chest had filled with ice. How dare Mite bring that into it? Did she have any idea what it was like to be the sister of the most powerful magician in Florean, and incapable of casting the simplest spell?

  No, of course Mite didn’t understand. Because she could do magic.

  “Mite,” Julian admonished. The little girl stared down at her plate. He turned back to Noa, his brow creased with a sympathetic look that Noa didn’t want any part of. She left, slamming the door behind her.

  3

  Mangoes Lead to Disaster

  Noa made it as far as the beach, where she flopped down on the sand. The waves lapped at the tips of her toes and then, a few minutes later, her ankles. She didn’t m
ove.

  The tortoise sunning itself on the pumice rocks eyed her suspiciously. After a moment of consideration, it shuffled into the sea, as if it could sense her black mood.

  There were now half a dozen magicians on the beach. They murmured to the currents, trying to rock the island free, their speech incomprehensible to Noa—the languages of magic could only be understood if you were a magician. To her, the language of Salt, which allowed you to speak to the sea, sounded like gargling bubbles.

  She stared moodily at the horizon, which was speckled with tiny red islands only a few yards across. The last time Noa had visited the Untold Sea, Mite had been a runny-nosed toddler trailing at Mom’s heels. Julian had been ill the entire trip—Julian had often been ill in those days, pale and small for a boy his age. Sickliness was common among magically gifted children; their power was like a living thing that ate them up from the inside. Noa had curled up beside him in the ship’s hold and read to him, adding little details that weren’t in the book to make him laugh. Back then, with their mother busy ruling Florean—and with a baby—it had often felt like it was just the two of them. Noa sometimes found herself guiltily missing the days before Julian had mastered his powers and grown strong and healthy.

  It wasn’t that Julian didn’t listen to her. It was more like he didn’t trust her, not the way he used to. She was just his little sister now—someone to protect, when they used to protect each other. As he became more powerful, Julian seemed to move farther away from her, as if they were on separate Astraes traveling in opposite directions.