by Carrie Ryan
It wasn’t the first time Fin had been brushed off in his life. Or the second. Or the thousandth, for that matter. He nodded. “Right. Okay. I’ll just be over there.” He gestured vaguely as he sauntered down the steps to the main deck.
“Well,” he told Fig, “I tried…”
She counted on her fingers. “Three… two… and now she’s forgotten she ever talked to you. Time to try again!”
Fin sighed again and walked across the deck to the stairs on the other side. Having someone who really understood what it was like to be him was starting to get old.
“So, I hear you’ve just been promoted to captain,” he said, strolling toward her. “Pretty impressive, especially at your age!”
Remy cut her eyes toward him. “Some people are older than they look,” she said. She let out a long sigh. “If you don’t mind—”
He held up his hands. “Oh, sure, want to be alone, no problem. I’ll just be over…” He let the statement trail off as he climbed back down the stairs.
“Three… two…” Fig counted.
“Right, right,” Fin grumbled. A few beats later and he was back on the quarterdeck.
“So…” he mustered. “Whaddya get when you cross a skink-riding plantimal with the Khesteresh Empire?”
Remy looked at him, eyebrow raised.
“Genocide.”
She ran a hand down her face. “If you don’t mind…”
She didn’t have to finish. He was already down the stairs.
Fig held up her hand. “Give her a few extra seconds,” she said. “That one’s going to be hard to forget.”
As they waited, she leaned back against the base of the stairs. “Remy’s right, though,” she mused. “We needed Coll if we’re going to escape the Rise. They know the Lost Sun’s on his way to Meres and that we’ll head there eventually to try to stop him. They’ll come for us there, I’m sure of it.”
“I don’t think that’s why she’s upset,” Fin told her.
“I know,” Fig said. “And it was stupid of Ardent to make Coll go back there, knowing we could lose him.”
Fin held out his hands. “Hold up a tick,” he said. “Ardent didn’t make Coll go. He asked him to, sure, but Coll could have said no. It was as much his decision as Ardent’s.”
“What?” Fig laughed. “It was not! Why would anyone do that voluntarily?”
“I would,” Fin said reflexively. “I mean, if Marrill asked me to do something like that to save her mom, I would say yes, too. But it would be my choice, not hers.”
Fig looked at him funny. “You’d risk yourself like that just to help her save her mother, who you haven’t even met?”
“Of course,” Fin said. The question didn’t even make sense to him. “She’s my friend. I’d do anything for her.”
“Without a Rise, or anyone, ordering you to?”
Now that question didn’t make sense. “No one orders me to do anything,” he told her. “The crew of the Kraken, they’re my family. I’d do anything for them because I love them, not because I have to.” He paused. “Same as my mom did for me.”
The Fade girl shook her head, a small smile on her face.
“What?” Fin asked.
“Nothing,” she said. “Just… that’s not something you hear among the Rise and the Fade, that’s all.” She glanced away.
Fin waited a beat, then said, “I saw you reach for Coll. When the Sheshefesh took him. You tried to save him.”
She lifted a shoulder, but didn’t say anything.
Fin pressed the point. “If you’d actually succeeded in grabbing him, you could have been dragged back along with him. Trapped in the Knot with all the other sailors for eternity.”
She still didn’t respond or meet his eyes.
“And back in Oneira, when Remy described how close the void got while Coll tried to pry our shell free from the shoals, I could tell from the story there was something missing: you. You were there helping him. You risked being swallowed by the void to save us.”
He stepped toward her. “No one ordered you to take those risks, Fig.” He dropped a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “In fact, it’s exactly the kind of thing someone who’s truly part of the crew would do.”
Fig fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. But the truth was clear: she wanted to be a member of the crew. She actually cared about them, whether she even knew it herself. Why else would she have risked herself for them on multiple occasions?
Fig shifted again and cleared her throat. “Countdown’s done. Time to give Remy another go.”
“Right,” he said. His thoughts were still on their conversation, though, as he climbed the stairs. He paused at the top and turned back, slipping his hand into his thief’s bag to grab something important. “Hey, Fig—”
She looked up at him.
“Catch!” He flung the object toward her and she raised her hands reflexively. Her silver bracelet glinted in the glowing light of the Pirate Stream as she plucked it from the air. Fig’s eyes shone as she slid it onto her wrist.
She opened her mouth, then closed it, swallowing several times before saying softly, “Thanks.”
He smiled and nodded, before continuing to the quarterdeck. His mind still swirled with thoughts of Fig, the crew of the Kraken, the Rise and the Fade, Coll, Ardent, his mother. He didn’t know what to say to Remy. He just wanted to be there for her. He just wanted her to feel better.
Without saying anything, Fin leaned against the railing and stared up at the sky. The Stream was still a braided knot before them, but they’d left the cave of the Sheshefesh. It was dark out, and Fin’s star—the one his mother had pointed out to him long ago—shone near the horizon. He smiled at it.
She was still out there, he knew. The woman who had saved him from the pens where poor Fig had grown up. The woman who’d risked everything so that he might have a chance. Just like Coll had done for all of them.
A sharp ache pinged his chest. He glanced over at Remy. Even with her back rigid and eyes straight ahead, her misery was obvious.
“I’m going to miss Coll,” he said. It was the truth. Coll was a good captain. Even if he never remembered Fin, he also never hesitated to stand by the side of his friends.
Remy’s chin wobbled. “Me too.”
He hesitated. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
Fin stood by for moment, thinking about what he’d want if he were in her shoes. “Do you mind if I stay out here a bit longer? I promise not to bother you.”
She glanced at him. “Actually, Plus One…” Fin pushed himself off the railing, ready to head back down the stairs. But the ghost of a smile played around her lips. “I’d like that,” she said. “I’d actually like that a lot.”
Fin smiled back. “Spiff,” he declared. “I’ll just be here. You know, if you need me.”
Remy nodded. When she returned her focus to navigating the intricately braided threads of the Stream in front of them, her shoulders seemed a bit more relaxed.
Fin resumed his position against the railing, knowing that he’d likely already been forgotten but still not wanting to leave. So it was a surprise when a few minutes later he heard a soft “Thank you” from Remy.
CHAPTER 22
Ripples on the Ocean
Ardent?” Marrill asked, pushing her way into the darkened cabin. The wizard stood, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the far window. Through it, the Kraken’s wake glittered like golden fire, casting sparks into the night.
“When I first went to the Sheshefesh,” Ardent said without turning, “I believed the Bintheyr Map to Everywhere would lead me to the secrets of the Dzane.”
Marrill had to laugh grimly. “Well, it did.”
“That it did,” he agreed. “Though the Lost Sun of Dzannin was not quite what I had in mind. This was before Serth drank Stream water, before the Meressian Prophecy; I had scarcely even heard of the Lost Sun back then. No, what I wanted more than anythin
g in life was to achieve the power of the Dzane. The Map was my utmost ambition. Knowing now that the Compass Rose was with the Sheshefesh… The creature fooled me good.”
Marrill let the door shut behind her, slipping closer to the wizard’s desk in the center of the room. It was strewn with junk, as usual. One corner, however, was clear, save for a thick scroll, partially unraveled. “So, that’s what I don’t get,” she said. “You said the Sheshefesh took something precious from you because it had the Compass Rose. But then it gave the Compass Rose to Annalessa, and you ended up getting it after all.”
Ardent turned to her. One hand hung limp at his side, the crumpled letter dangling from it as if stuck to his fingers, ready to fall at any moment. “Indeed,” he said, “it found something even more valuable to me to take instead.”
He took a deep breath. “In my quest for the Map, I would spend weeks researching before I went anywhere, making sure my leads were real, that I knew what I was looking for, that I would recognize any clues that I might stumble upon. When Annalessa went missing, I forgot all of that. I hunted wildly, heading anywhere I thought might even be possible, as fast as I could travel, for years, to no avail.”
He waved to the scroll on the corner of his desk. Marrill approached it cautiously. Scrawled down the length of it was a list of what looked to be locations: the Boastful Coast, Kittargh & Yaracdala, Scarbride Furrow, Strange the Grange. Most had been scratched through, but not all. Three in particular glowed a soft yellow at the bottom of the list, as though inked in candlelight. These three, she recognized.
Monerva
Margaham’s Game
The Knot of the Coiled Rope
With a flick of Ardent’s fingers, the scroll began to unravel. It reached the edge of the desk and fell to the floor, unrolling across the length of the cabin. Marrill sucked in a breath—there must have been thousands of locations scratched out. “You went to all of those?”
Ardent sounded tired when he answered. “Many of them twice.”
Marrill recognized the expression on his face. It was the same one her father always tried to hide from her—the one he wore late at night, when his thoughts were consumed by her mother’s health. It was fear and worry and deep, aching sorrow. Ardent and her dad had that in common, she realized. Both were unable to shape the fate of the person they loved.
“What was in the letter?” Marrill asked.
Ardent sighed and shrugged, his fingers twitching as he held it toward her. “You were the one to retrieve it for me. You have a right to know its contents.”
Marrill swallowed back her surprise and scurried across the cabin to retrieve it before he could change his mind.
Dear Old Fool, it read.
When we met in Monerva, I knew I could not stop Serth and his Prophecy of destruction. My future was your past—how could I change it? I could only track him, learn from him, and hope that an answer would reveal itself. What I didn’t understand was that my steps led in a circle, and even as I hunted, I was hunted in turn. I am pursued now by the walking shadow of the man I once knew, a grim reflection of the person I once held as dear as myself. He already knows where the path leads us; there is no escaping it. But even he doesn’t know what we will find there.
Still, I found what I needed. I cannot stop the Prophecy, I know, but I believe I can influence the manner in which it comes to pass. And that may be just the chance the Stream needs to survive the coming of the Lost Sun.
To do what must be done, I needed the Compass Rose. And to get it, I had to leave something precious behind. The Sheshefesh had but one demand: that I promise, bound by the magic of the Knot of the Coiled Rope, that I would not see or speak to you again until my task was completed. The Sheshefesh assures me that you will return someday and retrieve this letter. Indeed, he insisted that I write it. Part of his price on both of us, it seems, is for you to know exactly the terms of our bargain.
How I wish you had come with me, back when I visited you in your tower. Now, there are no more chances. I must do this alone.
The lodestone, the Compass Rose you tried to find so long ago, weighs heavy in my hand. It guides me to the Font of Meres, where wizards and magic mingle. What will happen there, I do not know. Perhaps one day, I will send you a letter telling you the job is done, the Sheshefesh’s curse is lifted, and we can see each other again. Perhaps not.
One way or the other, trust in me, and believe this: You will see me again someday, though time and tide render us both unrecognizable.
Until then, I remain, for always,
Yours,
AnnaL
“That’s why I could never find her. Annalessa made a deal with the Sheshefesh so that she might never be found.” Ardent pulled off his hat and ran his fingers over his forehead, as though trying to ease tension. Without his cap his soft white hair fluffed around his head like a cloud, making him look even more absurd than usual.
Marrill frowned. The way she interpreted the letter, Ardent had it all wrong. She thought back to her first visit to the Stream, the very first time Ardent had told her about his quest to find Annalessa. A quest that started when she sent him a letter.
“Um, Ardent? This is great news!” she cried.
“How do you figure?” the wizard asked, arching a white eyebrow.
“The letter,” she said, vibrating with excitement. “The one Annalessa sent you that started your search for her. If she sent that letter after writing this one, that means her promise to the Sheshefesh is already over!”
Ardent’s brow furrowed. “Well, certainly it would, Marrill, but we have no way of knowing the order in which these things happened. And besides, she didn’t actually send me a letter. She sent me…” He trailed off. His eyes suddenly opened wide. “The Compass Rose,” he breathed.
Now it was Marrill’s turn to be confused. “Huh?”
Ardent’s eyes, however, flashed with understanding. “I never told you that bit. She sent me the Compass Rose itself. I opened her letter, and off it flew. You see, Annalessa never approved of my quest for the Map. She worried that my obsession with finding it would destroy me; indeed it was she who once persuaded me to give up on it. For her to send me the Compass Rose, a piece of the Map, well…”
He kicked on the hem of his robe and began pacing. “She never would have tempted me to resume my quest for the Map unless things were dire. Unless there were truly no other options. I knew right then that I had been a fool. That I had turned my back on the person I cared about most. That if she was lost for good, it would be my fault. I swore I would not let that happen.”
Marrill grinned, glad to see him more animated again. “So if she sent you the Compass Rose, that definitely had to happen after she wrote this letter.” She crossed her arms. “You know, I think the Sheshefesh was just toying with you. Annalessa seems convinced you’ll see her again—maybe she’s waiting for you in Meres. And if she is, and the Sheshefesh is just a big blustering jerk… then after that, maybe we can go get Coll back after all!”
Color infused Ardent’s cheeks. “You have a point, Miss Aesterwest. You have many good points.” He leaned over the desk to tousle her hair fondly. They both laughed. It felt good—after seeing Ardent act so cruelly and so callously with the Sheshefesh—to hear him be himself again.
The old man smiled a grandfatherly smile and turned back to the window. “Well,” he said, “the night grows late. Tonight, let us sleep soundly, dreaming of fond reunions and glorious victories. For tomorrow, we make landfall at Meres.”
The next day did not dawn so much as leak into the world.
Marrill had seen some pretty incredible places on the Pirate Stream. She’d imagined that the Isle of Meres, where wizards conferred, must be the most magical of all. Beyond magical. Super magical.
But when she emerged onto the deck the next morning, there was none of that. Rocks jutted up from the wave-tossed Stream, some of them bigger even than the Kraken. They formed a maze so dense that it seemed impossible to sail t
hrough. Not that anyone would want to. Because from what glimpses she could catch, nothing but a squat scrap of land awaited, covered in dead trees. They looked lost and dull beneath the sorrow-colored sky.
Marrill climbed to the quarterdeck where Remy leaned against a post, one finger on the wheel to keep them steady. “Are you sure you know where you’re going?” Marrill asked.
Remy let out a huge yawn, blinked her bloodshot eyes. “Of course I know. This is the current for Meres.” She nodded her chin toward the rocks around her, rubbing absently at her side. “Which should make that the Isle of Meres.”
Marrill scrunched up her face. She couldn’t hide her disappointment. “But… it’s so empty… and ugly.”
Remy shrugged. “I guess they can’t all be the land of unicorns and rainbows.”
“Nah, went to that one for my third anniversary,” the Naysayer grunted from a nearby table. “Overrated.”
Marrill gave him a sidelong glance. “Third anniversary of what?”
“Third anniversary of mind your own business, that’s what,” the monster snapped. “Oh, wait, you minding your own business hasn’t happened yet. I’ll make a note to celebrate if it does, though.”
“Are we celebrating something?” Ardent asked in midyawn as he stepped from his cabin.
The Naysayer pushed from the table and slumped toward the hatch. “Not unless you call doing something stupid to get us all killed a celebration. ’Cause if you do, then every day’s a party with you thumbheads.” He reached the stairs just as Fin appeared at the top.
“Morning,” Fin chirped.
The Naysayer gave him a withering look. “Congratulations, ya mastered the time of day. Learn to count your fingers, and you’ll officially be not as dumb as you look.” He stuck a thick hand out at Fin’s face. “Classic Naysayer,” the beast snarled before lumbering belowdecks.
Fin shook his head sadly as he scooched next to Marrill. “Good to know the Naysayer’s still here. I keep taking down that sign he posted on the Promenade Deck, but he just won’t wander onto it anymore.” He swiped a cheese rind off a nearby table and gnawed on it thoughtfully. “Speaking of signs, any sign of the Rise and Fade?”