“This is exactly what I needed to see,” said the Raft King. “Exactly the type of person I was hoping you’d have. Is he really talking? If so, this boy is what I need.”
“When he’s old enough, we’ll definitely offer him the opportunity to go with you,” said the governor in a bland, cool tone. “Now. Let’s discuss the volunteers and our trading deals.”
“I don’t want any volunteers.”
“What?” The governor’s voice rose. And Kinchen could understand her surprise. There were always volunteers—both to go to Raftworld and to join the Islanders, grown-ups traveling from each direction. “We have a perfect fourteen this year, seven men and seven women, all adventurous—”
“I don’t want them. Raftworld is overcrowded. We don’t have room.” The Raft King put his hands on his hips and nodded toward the pond. “I want this boy, with his gifts. Only this boy.”
“But—you just want to consult with him, right?”
“I need to take him with me.” The Raft King’s voice sounded strained. In the distance, Pip hung motionless in the water, facedown. Kinchen felt frozen as well—what could the Raft King mean?
“What?” the governor said again. She stepped back from the water’s edge, away from the Raft King. “We don’t allow children to volunteer—and I’m not sure he would volunteer anyway. His sister wouldn’t let him. Nor his adopted grandfather.”
“Adopted grandfather?” The Raft King turned toward the governor, and Kinchen could see his strong features in profile. He did not see Kinchen, so intent was he on the governor’s words.
“Their parents died when they were only toddlers. One after the other. Old Ren volunteered to take them in. He’s—he’s different.”
She didn’t go on, but she didn’t need to. The Raft King had evidently heard of him. “The albino.”
Ren wasn’t albino—his skin tanned every summer, and he said he’d once had brown hair. But he was awfully pale. No one knew where he’d come from or how he’d come by such a strange complexion. He’d been around for ages, living alone in the hill caves for as long as anyone could remember. Alone until Kinchen and Pip’s parents died, when he came down from the caves and volunteered to take them in. Even though it was clear that Pip was awkward with people, always looking at them like he didn’t know who they were (and before it was known he had a gift), Ren had volunteered anyway. And Ren loved Pip right from the start; he didn’t think Pip was stupid. It was, thought Kinchen, another of Ren’s great qualities. He thought his grandchildren were good the way they were.
“Yes, the albino. That’s the one,” the governor confirmed.
“So the boy doesn’t have any real family.”
“He has his sister. And Ren.”
“But I mean, family who would object to him going off. This is a big opportunity for him, you know. What does he have here to look forward to?”
“Not much,” the governor said. “He’s bright enough with math and literature and things, but with people . . . well, he’s odd. Mostly he talks to fish, I think.”
“Exactly. So we take him off your hands.”
“I see what you’re saying. But the fact is, we Islanders don’t trade people unwillingly. I can’t give you this boy. He’d have to volunteer, and he’s not likely to.”
The Raft King’s voice thinned. “It’s what’s best for him.”
“I’m sorry.” The governor sounded like she was reluctant to say no—but saying no nonetheless. Firmly.
The Raft King’s voice grew suddenly firmer, too. And threaded in it was a note of something else. Fear? “I must have this boy. You don’t understand, you people with your islands. We need this child.” The Raft King took a deep breath. “He can lead us to our own land.”
“What? How?” The governor sounded genuinely interested. Kinchen was, too—how in the world could Pip help the Raftworlders find their land? And what was their land? She thought the Raftworlders had always lived on Raftworld, ever since they’d arrived here in the second world. That was the story, anyway.
The Raft King looked out over the pond for so long, it seemed like he wasn’t going to reply. And when he did, he didn’t answer the question. “State secret. But this boy is the key.” The governor took a breath as if to speak, but the king cut her off. “And until you give him to me, there will be no more trading, no nothing. We’re the only two nations in the world, and we won’t be friends, not without the boy.”
The two adults stood in silence, staring out across the water. Pip still floated facedown, but now his arms, instead of drifting off to his sides, were gesticulating downward, as if he were waving slowly at someone at the bottom of the pond, or petting something beneath him in the water.
Why wasn’t the governor saying no to the Raft King? Who cared about Raftworld anyway? And how dare the Raft King say so casually that he would take Pip away? And how could Pip survive without Kinchen’s help?
Finally the governor cleared her throat and said, in a small voice that sounded like a shrug, “You can have him. For a visit only.”
That was when Kinchen leaped out from behind the bush, eyes blazing.
At the same moment on the little deep pond, schools of fish leapt high into the air, small and quick, over and over, hundreds of them bubbling up like a pot at high boil.
3
PIP FLOATED facedown.
He made sure to float at the surface, because he knew the Raft King wanted to see him, to see at least some of what he was doing. And anyway, Pip couldn’t sink more than ten or twelve feet deep without his head aching—like most people, he assumed, except that most people had to come up for air. And he didn’t.
And most people couldn’t talk with fish.
He also stayed at the surface because—just a little bit—he wanted to show off. After all, his ability with sea creatures was the only interesting thing about him, the only thing that he was especially good at. Kinchen, always protecting him, kept him away from people, so he’d never before had an audience. And it felt good to have an audience when he was doing something right.
He hung motionless in the water and sent out thoughts. For talking to fish, thinking wasn’t enough; you had to think with direction. Otherwise they couldn’t hear anything you said. It had taken him time to figure that out. Talking with fish wasn’t just something you did, no matter what people seemed to think. It might be a gift, but it wasn’t simply given; he’d had to practice it.
His thoughts flowed outward in rings. Hello? Who’s there? Eventually the fish began to arrive, returning the greeting and nudging one another as they congregated below him. Pip recognized some of them—those who swam back and forth from the bay near his house to this protected inland pond. Some of these fish he’d never seen before; but they’d all heard of him. Their thoughts swirled around him. The boy. The human who can talk. The fish jostled in the water.
As the sea creatures gathered, Pip studied them so he’d recognize them the next time he saw them. Fish were easy. They all looked like themselves. Individual and special, with their own markings and their own movements and their own quick way of flashing thoughts and their own sparkle.
Not like people, who—no matter how long Pip studied them—all looked the same to him. He could tell people apart by approximate age and size and length of hair and body shape, and sometimes by skin tone, if they were far enough off the medium-brown norm. But stand two average kids next to each other? Or two women? Or two old men? And it was over. Lucky for him Ren was so pale; and lucky too that Kinchen bleached the stripe in her hair for him. It was always a relief to see that hair and know that his recognizing work was done.
One of the fish he knew twitched upward to him, and Pip reached down to stroke her smooth, cool back. She was a young bass who called herself Flicker. We arrive here for a super-secret meeting of fishy minds and we still can’t escape you. She nipped his hand gently as she t
hought at him, and he grinned.
I’m a fish spy; it’s true.
Why the visit? Does this have to do with the giant raft? Flicker threaded herself through his dangling legs not unlike a cat. The other fish shivered into a pack, and he could hear their thoughts, wondering why he had come to the pond.
No, nothing is wrong. At least, I don’t think so. The Raft King—the human in charge of the giant raft—he thought it was interesting that I could talk to you all, and he wanted to see it. Pip struggled to keep his thoughts from sounding smug or bragging. He wanted to see me talk to fish.
Why? asked a minnow, and all the minnows echoed, Why? Why? Why? Their thin, wavery thoughts flashed through the water together.
The bass’s thoughts, deep and clear, drove through the clatter. Do the humans need something from us? What do they want?
I don’t know. There must be something the Raft King wanted—beyond just a simple show of Pip’s gift—but Pip didn’t know what it was. And he realized now, he’d been so excited to show his gift, so thrilled to be asked, that he hadn’t wondered what else the Raft King might want. I’ll find out when I go back up. Meanwhile . . . ?
Fine, we’ll do a trick for your little human friends. If fish could roll their eyes, Flicker would be doing it now. Her thoughts had that fake-grumpy quality to them that Pip adored about her. What do you want?
Something happy. And impressive. Could you—could you all jump at the same time? Into the air?
4
KINCHEN KNEW who was making the fish leap: Pip, of course. Pip, not realizing what a pond full of jumping fish might look like to the king—not realizing that it might look like he was floating in the middle of a feeding frenzy or something—
“Amazing,” said the Raft King. “The fish obey him. Yes, I need this boy.” To Kinchen, still standing where she’d jumped out of the bushes, he said, “You are . . . ?”
The governor said, “This is the boy’s sister—the one I was telling you about.”
“He’s not going anywhere with you,” said Kinchen.
The fish finished jumping and the pond’s surface stilled. Pip’s head popped up as he began to swim toward shore. He didn’t look at the three people on the beach. It almost seemed like he’d forgotten about them, but Kinchen knew he hadn’t. He just didn’t know what to say or how to act around people—people not her or Ren. And knowing Pip, he’d probably already forgotten who these people were. Or at least forgotten which was which.
“He’s not going,” she said. “He lives here, on the Islands, with me and Old Ren, and he’s not going with you.”
The Raft King ignored her and called to Pip. “Good job. You made them leap?”
Pip shook his head no as he walked up onto the beach. Then he shook his head even harder, like a dog, and the water flew out of his short hair until it stood up in black spikes all over his head.
“It wasn’t you?” asked the governor in surprise.
“I didn’t make them. I asked them.” Pip glanced toward the pond.
“That’s what I meant,” said the Raft King.
Pip frowned as if he didn’t understand. And Kinchen could feel herself getting exasperated. This kind of misunderstanding was exactly why he couldn’t go places in public, why he should stay away from crowds. He didn’t know how to talk to people at all. He said, “But if you meant that—”
Kinchen said, “We need to get home, Pip. Now.”
Pip looked as if he’d just noticed her for the first time. “When did you get here?”
She didn’t answer. “We’re leaving,” she said to the Raft King. She narrowed her eyes at him and then at the governor, trying to give them each equal glare time.
The Raft King coughed. “Of course. Of course. I’d never make someone visit Raftworld—just visit, that’s all—if they didn’t want to. My apologies. But do let me offer you tea first. A Raftworld blend—very special. The governor and I were going to have some.” He gestured toward the mansion, and Kinchen could see a small table just outside the back door, set with a teapot and cups and plates. She must have rushed past it earlier.
Pip’s face lit up, his shock of black hair around his head looking (as usual) like a dandelion gone to seed. His big brown eyes were even wider than usual and seemed to take up his whole face.
“Fine,” Kinchen said. “One cup of tea, and then we go home.”
The Raft King straightened his purple cape across his shoulders. “Excellent. Pip, is it?”
“Short for Pippin,” said the governor.
“No it isn’t,” said Kinchen.
“I’m just Pip,” said Pip. His name was short for the very old-fashioned name Philip, as Pip well knew. But Kinchen didn’t correct him.
“Well, Just Pip,” said the Raft King in a jolly voice. “Walk with me and tell me more about talking to the fish. Since you’re not sailing with me, you’ll need to tell me all about it now.” The two of them walked ahead toward the house.
The governor turned to Kinchen. “I would never allow anyone to be forced to go. Especially a child.” She emphasized the last word a tiny bit, as if to suggest that Pip was even more a child than typical, as if he needed even more protection than other children. Which, Kinchen thought, he did.
Kinchen frowned. “What about the trade agreement? What about the only two nations in the world won’t be friends anymore?”
The governor said, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.” But she didn’t look sure.
5
PIP WAS, he admitted to himself as they walked toward the mansion, disappointed not to be going to Raftworld for a visit. Because it sounded like that’s what the Raft King had wanted, and that would have been an adventure. On top of that, he was angry that Kinchen had arrived to save him. He didn’t need rescuing; he was pretty sure of that. And anyway, if he did, why couldn’t he save himself? He would have just said, No, I don’t want to go to Raftworld. Kinchen didn’t need to do that for him.
But would he have said no?
On top of everything, he felt guilty about being mad at Kinchen. She took care of him. She protected him. And when he said or did dumb things, she covered for him. He shouldn’t be mad at her. He shouldn’t.
As they walked toward the tea table, the Raft King talked, and when he paused for a response Pip realized, too late, that he hadn’t been listening. “Uh . . .”
“I understand,” said the king, patting his head. “So you’ve known this about yourself all your life.”
“I—I guess,” said Pip. Then he realized the Raft King was probably asking about the talking to fish. “I mean, yes. I knew since the first time I put my head under the water. My grandfather was teaching me to swim.”
The Raft King chuckled. “I’ll bet your grandfather was surprised.”
“He said he didn’t need to teach me swimming anymore.” He felt a brief surge of pride. It had taken Kinchen years to learn to swim, and even now, though she was a strong swimmer, she wasn’t nearly as comfortable in the water as he.
They reached the table. The governor and Kinchen lagged behind, talking. Kinchen was angry; Pip could tell because of the way her fists clenched and unclenched as she walked. Pip sighed. She was probably scolding the governor for letting Pip show his gift to the Raft King.
He turned back to the Raft King just in time to see him reach into a chest pocket on the inside of his robe and bring out a small packet. “Oh. It’s for the tea.” The Raft King added the powdery contents of the packet to two cups and poured the tea over them, stirring the powder and the tea together with a spoon. Into the other two cups he simply poured tea.
“Why . . . ?”
“I figured you kids would want a little sweetener. Raftworld tea can be bitter until you get used to it.” The Raft King winked. “I doubt your sister will even notice that I added it.”
But if the tea was bitter, they could
just add honey . . . which was sitting on the table in a jar. Why add powder from a packet in your robe? Looking up at the Raft King’s unremarkable face, a face he’d not recognize again if he saw the king five years from now—or five minutes from now—Pip knew that the Raft King was covering something up. And he was making up a stupid lie because he thought Pip was too dumb to catch on. He wasn’t even bothering to come up with a good story.
Pip nodded, thinking all these thoughts, just as the governor and Kinchen arrived. Kinchen looked calmer, and the governor looked relieved. “Tea sounds wonderful just now,” she said.
The Raft King handed her one of the unpowdered cups, taking the other for himself. “Could you and I talk business for just a moment or two more? While these two drink their tea?” He handed Kinchen and Pip their cups, one after the other. “Drink up, kids.”
The governor shrugged, as if unsure about leaving Pip and Kinchen alone.
“We’ll be fine,” said Kinchen. “I’ll take care of Pip.” She patted his back like he was a toddler.
At that moment, Pip decided to let her drink the tea.
He decided to drink his, too. The king wouldn’t actually poison them. But if there was something going on, he was going to be a part of it.
6
WHEN KINCHEN woke up she couldn’t remember where she was or why. Her mouth tasted like sheep’s wool, greasy and fuzzy at the same time. And bitter. She thought about sitting up, but somehow her brain felt like it needed to stay lying down. Slowly she tilted her head and studied her surroundings. She seemed to be lying on a bed, on top of a quilt dyed in stripes of green and blue—the official colors of the Islands. The walls of the room, too, were green and blue, bright and clean: one of the governor’s upstairs rooms. The windows stood open to let in a breeze and a bright late-morning light.
A Crack in the Sea Page 2