by Nadia Aguiar
Later, when the other passengers had disembarked and the captain was out of sight at the stern, Simon took out the ophallagraph to study it more closely. He felt it was more important than ever that he figured it out.
“I can’t put my finger on it, but something in this is just off somehow,” he said to Maya. He scratched his knee, his brow furrowed in thought. “I’d almost say it’s not made from a real photograph. All the bits in it were added separately—the boats, the hills in the background—even those skinny waterfalls look weird. I don’t think this is a real place, it’s all just bits and pieces of things and places, doctored together.”
“Well, how does that help us?” asked Maya, “if everything in it is just wrong?”
“It isn’t wrong,” said Simon slowly. “It’s deliberate. There’s a big difference. It would mean that everything in here is a symbol or some type of clue.” He chewed his lip and studied the image. “The señoras said you need to have all the ophallagraphs together in order to make sense of them. I wonder how many of them there are?”
After a while, Penny fell asleep. Maya sat with her chin on her knee, lost in her own thoughts. Now that he had a quiet moment, Simon missed his parents and Granny Pearl. The hastiness of their departure weighed on him. It had been four days since they left—their family must be very worried about them by now. He wondered what they were doing at home. As Simon sat there, clouds moved in and covered the sun. The river turned dark beneath them.
Trying to put his family out of his mind, he glanced down at the ophallagraph once more. Now that the day had dimmed and it was the main source of light, he noticed that the three thin waterfalls in the background had begun to glow more brightly, purposefully calling attention to themselves. Why? Simon’s eye roved over the harbor in front of them, where the ghostly, glowing Pamela Jane sailed on.
Chapter Ten
The Children Are Shadowed • The Reappearing Village • Bird Woman • Faustina’s Gate • In the Golden Birdcage
It wasn’t until late that afternoon that the telltale wallawalla birds appeared and the fields turned to marshes. As the señoras had instructed, at the sharp bend in the river beneath the great landowega trees, the children left the skiff. They found the tiny tributary the señoras had told them about and walked along its bank. The ground grew muckier and muckier and with each step it became harder to walk. Maya was hot and irritated by a fly buzzing around her head, and Penny’s pajamas were covered in mud. When Simon saw a half-sunk abandoned rowboat he waded into the water up to his waist and, with considerable effort, dragged it up to the shore.
The planks had swollen apart, leaving big gaps. Simon thought for a moment, then he took out his pocketknife and cut a few reeds. He flipped the rowboat over, and using a stout branch as a chisel and a rock as a hammer, he packed the reeds tightly into the loose joints.
They climbed in and Simon broke off two paddle-shaped tree branches and he and Maya began to steer. Penny bailed water out of the leaking hull with a coconut shell as they drifted along on the current. They had left the traffic of the river behind when they had turned onto the tributary, but soon Simon became aware of another small boat behind them. Each time they turned a bend the tip of the other boat’s bow was just appearing around the last, so he could never get a good look at it.
“I see it, too,” Maya muttered to Simon under her breath so that Penny wouldn’t hear and be frightened, and they picked up the pace paddling.
It was probably just someone from a nearby village, but Simon couldn’t shake the sense of foreboding that hung heavier on him with each stroke of the paddle. What if Isabella had given them away and the Red Coral had tracked them down? Eventually, to his relief, he could no longer hear the lap of oars behind them. The other boat was gone and they were alone in the wild, watery place. Evening was almost upon them and the light was beginning to fade. The reeds grew thicker and thicker but the current kept pushing them through.
“We’re supposed to come out in a big lake inside the marsh,” he whispered, saying it aloud in hopes that it was true.
“If this was the right way,” said Maya. “And if this place really exists at all…”
Just as Simon was wondering if the señoras had unwittingly sent them on a wild-goose chase, with a final crackling and shuffling, the tall stems parted and before them was a large, pale lake. Simon quickly grabbed the reeds to hold them steady before the current could pull them out into open water. Golden light suffused the surface but the shadows near the shorelines were black and glossy. There was no village in sight, however. The lake was empty. The bad feeling that had been nagging Simon grew worse.
“What do we do now?” Maya asked. There was the gentle shhh of water leaking into the boat.
Simon was at a loss. All the señoras had said was that the village was near a lake. But what if it didn’t even exist anymore? The señoras were old. Things could have changed since they had last left Floriano. The sky over the lake was already darkening. Except for a flock of birds flying silently high overhead, there was no sign of life. What were they going to do if night fell and they were stranded there in the leaky rowboat?
“If it’s such a big secret, it can’t be that easy to find,” said Simon, feigning cheer for his sisters’ sake.
As he was speaking he heard a hissing sound in the reeds nearby. Something was coming toward them. Simon remembered the boat he had seen following them earlier and his stomach lurched. Instinctively the children remained silent, hardly daring to breathe. Simon didn’t know if he should keep paddling to get farther away, risking that the splashing of the paddle would betray them to whoever was coming, or wait and hope that they weren’t noticed. The wssssssing sound was getting louder as whatever it was came closer. Then he realized that there were more sounds coming from deep in the reeds all around the lake.
The rowboat had been taking on water and Maya resumed bailing again as quietly as she could. An unseen bird began to shrill, loud as an alarm. The hissing rushes grew louder and louder and began to shake and rattle. Whatever was there was very close now and in a moment would be upon them—they had to move! With a mighty drag of the paddle through the water, Simon drove them out of the reeds into the open lake.
They were exposed now; anyone could see them. Sweat poured down Simon’s face. They had moved out of the way just in time. The singing reeds behind them were reaching a fever pitch when all of a sudden something burst out into the open lake. The children turned and gazed at it in surprise for just a few seconds, because that’s how long it took before a current whipped it back into the reeds a short distance away. But they had seen it: a raft, upon which was built a dilapidated wooden house with a green roof and a rusted railing around its porch. If anyone was on it they were hidden safely inside the house. Thoroughly spooked, Simon was eager to hide again. But when he tried to paddle back toward the reeds he found that the current was too strong. With growing horror he felt the rowboat pick up speed.
“Give Penny the bailer—I need you to help paddle!” he cried to Maya.
But it was no use. They were powerless to resist the powerful current, which was bearing them swiftly toward the middle of the lake.
Then, from the rushes all around them, birds began to rise—hundreds then thousands of them. They scattered over the lake, hiding the last of the setting sun and casting dizzying maps of shadow on the water. The children found themselves suddenly disorientated in a vertiginous world of shadow and reflection and mirage. Across the vast lake other currents became visible, lightly foaming streams that ran this way and that with no apparent rhyme or reason.
“Stay down low, Penny,” Maya whispered.
The sky lightened as the flock seemed to melt, then instantly re-formed as a dark, bristly V in the sky. The leader dived recklessly toward the lake and the others followed as if they were being poured out of the sky. Simon looked up and saw they were headed directly for the rowboat. He panicked and with a shout he lifted the flimsy paddle to shield them.
But a split second before the birds would have struck, as if the creatures had suddenly changed their minds, they dropped their chests and lifted their wings and rose again to swirl in a darkening circle above the rowboat. More birds exploded from the rushes and a shrill cacophony rang out. Then all the birds together fell silent and began to ascend in the sky until they were too far away for the children even to hear their wings. Simon looked up, the paddle trembling in his hands. The last of the sun had disappeared while the birds had blocked the light. Now they were in the witching hour, the water and sky a deep purple. The black silhouette of rushes bristled around the lake.
A giant red albatross appeared, flying low toward them across the water. Simon paddled with all his strength, but couldn’t fight the current. The boat was taking on water fast and Maya dropped her paddle and began to bail furiously. The albatross was above them, hovering just off the stern. A strong wind blew from its great wings. Simon felt the rowboat being blown from the current they were in and into another and then another again. It was almost as if the bird was driving them across the lake. Then it occurred to him: Sorella had said Milagros’s gift was with birds.
“It could be one of Milagros’s!” he said, looking up desperately. “Maybe it’s trying to help us!”
The great bird navigated them from one current to another until they ended up in one that was running swift and straight toward the center of the lake.
Then Simon saw movement on the lake’s fringes. He watched as a quivering light emerged from the reeds. Gradually, through the gloom, he saw that the light belonged to a lamp that hung from the porch of what appeared to be another small hut floating on a raft. One and then two and then three appeared after it—a collection of strange beacons all approaching the center of the lake. Maya’s jaw dropped and she stopped bailing. The raft-boats pulled alongside one another, then locked together. Others were coming out of the reeds and across the lake to join them. To the children’s amazement, a village began to assemble like a great jigsaw puzzle before their eyes. Wooden streets formed from the edges of connected rafts and shadowy figures moved along them. Canals ran through the village and bridges arched over them. Torches blazed on poles and candlelight shone from the windows. Already people were busy, crossing the bridges, gliding down the canals in sleek gondolas, stringing laundry out to dry in the warm night, lighting cooking fires and casting fishing lines. In moments a whole miraculous world had materialized out of thin air and been brought to life.
Night was fully upon them now, the lake and sky black but for the stars. The albatross dipped back down toward them and flapped his magnificent wings once more before taking off across the dark sky, and the little rowboat was given a final push toward the village. The boat had taken on too much water, though, and the children could no longer bail fast enough. They reached the edge of the village and just as they scrambled up a wooden ladder onto a raft, the rowboat sank beneath them, disappearing down into inky black water zipped with phosphorescent streaks. The children crouched there for a moment, waiting for their hearts to slow. Simon expected to be stopped and questioned, but the village was busy and nobody paid attention to them. Late-coming raft-boats were sailing in on the currents and joining the edge of the raft they were on and soon, without having moved, Simon, Maya, and Penny were deep inside the maze of interlocking streets and canals.
A gondola slid past them and the passengers looked wordlessly at the children—a man with great, beefy arms and an oily slick of black hair and pocked face; a hard-eyed woman swaddled in bright flowing garments who carried a basket of dried eels on her lap; an old man with a greasy beard down to his knees, who slept with his eyes open and only the whites showing, who seemed to be in the grip of a terrible dream. With a shiver that was not from the night air on his wet skin, Simon remembered what Dr. Bellagio had said: For centuries the village had been a place where convicts, thieves, and hunted men had fled to live in hiding. It was up to him to protect his sisters. He and Maya each took one of Penny’s hands.
“How will we find—” Maya began.
But she didn’t need to finish her sentence.
It was obvious where Milagros lived. A soft storm of birds circled above one house like smoke from a chimney.
The children made their way cautiously toward it, water squelching in their soggy shoes, a rickety bridge creaking beneath their steps. Nighthawks darkened the air around them, their sharp wings like knives in the air. The moon came out and the limbs of the water-trees were pale silver and their bark shimmered as if covered in fish scales. When the children reached the house they saw that it was a single wooden room on a raft that was latched onto the far corner of the village. Its roof sagged, its paint was peeling, and scraggly nests burdened its eaves. No light came from its boarded windows. Waterweeds clotted the railings that ran around it.
The door was ajar, hanging half off its hinges.
They paused in front of it. Simon could feel the water moving beneath the planks under his feet. He thought he had better go in alone. “Wait here,” he said.
“No,” whispered Maya quickly. “We’ll go with you.”
Simon swallowed. There’s nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. The señoras wouldn’t have sent them here if Milagros were likely to harm them. Gathering his courage, he called softly into the dark room.
“Milagros?”
When there was no answer he pushed the door open warily—the wood was swollen and it creaked as it swung slowly in. The room was dark and smelled of rotting wood and bird droppings. Simon heard the flutter and rustle of feathers as soon as he stepped inside. Through the gloom dozens of tiny, shiny eyes peered at him.
“Milagros?” he repeated.
The houseboat swayed gently on the current into the moonlight that streamed suddenly through broad, open windows that ran along two walls of the room. In the middle of the room sat a woman—a great heap of a woman—who was looking with interest at the visitors.
Simon knew at once it was Milagros. She was a vast, heavy figure, with a large head and droopy eyes. A ruff of grizzled hair hung over her forehead. A few long, matted braids, tied with feathers, hung over her broad shoulders, where birds were perched staring at the children—theirs were the glowing eyes that Simon had seen. She wore a brown burlap dress, tied with twine around her waist. Her skin and eyes and hair and teeth were all the same color. The great, immovable mass of her sat planted in the middle of the room. She could not have been less birdlike, less likely to take flight. She looked instead, it occurred to Simon, like a nest. Downy feathers gathered in the folds of her dress, bird droppings frosted the tops of her shoes.
“I am she,” she said. Her voice had a gravelly warble to it. “I am Milagros.”
Only Penny didn’t seem shocked by the filth in the room. She stared in fascination at Milagros and the birds on her shoulders.
Simon’s throat was dry and when he went to speak no sound came out. Milagros spoke instead.
“I presume that your visit has something to do with the other Outsiders who have followed you here,” she said. They trailed her eyes to the window, through which they could see several lights bobbing on the other side of the lake, at the point where Simon and Maya and Penny had entered. Simon’s heart skipped a beat—the Red Coral knew they were there, after all! They were the people who had been following the children! Simon gazed at the lights in horror.
“Don’t worry, they can’t get here,” said Milagros. “It’s next to impossible to breach the village. The currents will keep them on the fringes of the lake and my birds will see to it that they’re uncomfortable. You only got in because I sent the albatross for you.”
Milagros was right. The boats never seemed able to get past a certain point. As the children watched, the lights would seem to make headway, but then without fail the extraordinarily powerful currents would spin them abruptly away and they would resume their restless circling.
“That means we’ve led them right here!” said Simon in dismay.
“We’re so sorry,” said Maya. “We didn’t know…”
“You’ve given nothing away,” said Milagros calmly, in a low voice that was more of a rumble. “Our village disappears each morning and is reborn each night. By morning, when the currents change and allow them in, the village will be gone. The rafts split up and we go our separate ways deep into the marsh, where intruders have little hope of finding us and where, should they venture, we can hear them coming from a mile away. Sometimes a raft will travel hundreds of miles in a single day before it rejoins the current that will return it here at nightfall.”
Simon was still squinting at the Red Coral boats in the distance.
“At least for tonight, the Red Man isn’t out there,” said Milagros. “Just some of his Maroong who have been tracking you.”
Simon relaxed slightly at this news, but glanced nervously at Milagros. He didn’t want her to know that they knew Dr. Fitzsimmons.
“I know from the birds about what is happening across Tamarind,” said Milagros. “I know from what they bring back in their beaks and talons. I’ve read the signs in the earth. The Red Man is causing what is only the beginning of unspeakable destruction across Tamarind. Already the plague in the seas has begun—that’s how it starts. Never in my lifetime have I seen something happen so fast. What in times past took generations, has now happened in a matter of moons.” The strange old woman sighed deeply and regarded the children. “I assume the señoras have sent you. They would choose this way for you to come,” she said irritably. “And only they would send children.”