“Almost sure,” Dorsom said quickly. “We’ve never actually had a situation quite like this before.”
“But pretty soon, I’m certain,” Natala said. “No need to rush back, right?”
“I feel like—like I’m trying not to panic—but I can’t even tell how long I’ve been here already. And my mom’s going to freak when she realizes I’m not in my room.”
“Your family won’t have noticed your absence—not for a while yet,” Natala said. “We move at accelerated speeds, compared to those of the Actual World.”
“A Silverworld week fits into an Actual World hour.” Dorsom straightened the reins. “Which is why people in the Actual World don’t see us. When Actuals look into the Silverskinned, they see reflections, flashes, just blurs of brightness. Actuals only seem to see their own images, floating on light. But the light is us—the Flickers!”
“We’ve passed the morning.” Natala pointed to the sun. “But in your World, hardly a minute’s gone by.”
They were trying to reassure her, Sami knew, or distract her, but somehow the thought of even time being different in this place made her feel even farther from home than ever.
The horses entered a small beachside village. It had sandy walkways, one blue cobblestone street down the center, and an assortment of squat buildings with shutters and window gardens washed in glimmering tints of amethyst. Dorsom and Natala hopped down and tied their horses in front of a lopsided little hut that looked familiar to Sami. It bore a small hand-painted sign over the door that said SILVERWORLD REBALANCING AND SECURITY.
“Thus far thus good,” Natala said. “We’ve arrived!”
Dorsom helped Sami down; his expression was serious. “We may not be staying long.”
“We’re at…the pier. I think,” Sami said slowly. “Back in my world, I mean. This is the old bait and tackle shop, isn’t it? They sell frozen shrimp here….” Sami smiled at the memory. Sometimes she and Tony got out their father’s battered fishing poles, bought a bucket of bait and a few frozen candy bars, and dangled their feet off the pier.
“Not in Silverworld,” Natala told her. “This is our office, and welcome.”
Dorsom rattled a big bunch of iron keys. Abruptly, he stopped and said, “I smell fear.” He squinted at the door a moment, then pushed it open with a squeak. Shadow soldiers. You two wait here. His thought was grim.
Standing behind Dorsom in the doorway, blinking, Sami could see wooden desks and filing cabinets with all their drawers yanked out, papers spilled everywhere. A big metal typewriter lay overturned on the floor. There was a toppled silver tray, an overturned Bedouin teapot, and smashed tea glasses. A ceiling fan with blades of woven palm fronds rotated lazily over the scene. Either the Flickers were horribly messy or their place had been ransacked.
They’ve gone. For the moment. Dorsom gestured for Sami and Natala to enter. There was a distinctive smell in the air—not unpleasant, but odd—a bit like the air just before a thunderstorm, heavy and briny and salty, as if the sea had just washed through the place. She touched a wooden cabinet that had been emptied of books. They were scattered in a heap, their splayed leather covers inscribed with symbols, much like her teta’s spell book. She picked one up and ran her hand over its soft cover. Somebody really doesn’t like you guys, she thought.
We’re rebalancing agents. Natala’s response startled Sami, who’d forgotten to watch her thoughts. Natala scooped up ledgers and papers from the floor and stacked them on the desk. “We have enemies.”
“Apparently, the Nixie’s creatures have just paid us a visit.” Dorsom began plucking up a toppled pile of papers. “They don’t usually bother with this much destruction. They’re too busying recruiting Shadows and stealing Flickers and casting their cold length.”
Their abilities are growing, Natala thought. Deepening.
“Their determination surely is,” Dorsom added. “Truly they want you, Sami.”
“Me?” She glanced over her shoulder. “But I don’t have anything to do with this world—I don’t even want to be here. What do they want from me?”
“Their queen is drawn to anything powerful—and threatening.” Dorsom shook his head. “They might still be near. We need to take you to the Director.”
Just then a low, resonating whistle filled the air and the Flickers froze in place. It was an eerie tone, more of a vibration than an actual sound. Sami felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “What was that?”
The Flickers dropped their books and papers as Sami heard a powerful thought-voice, coming from someplace deeper than the bones of her head, booming out the words I arise.
“That,” Dorsom said, “is just exactly who we need.”
Natala grabbed her hand and Dorsom unlocked a small door in the back that opened onto a little stoop, then wooden boards. The three left the shop and went out to the pier. It looked almost identical to the way it looked back in Sami’s world, only these planks had a faintly violet hue. The boards extended far out over phosphorescent water, which looked semisolid close up, like a pudding or jelly. The end of the pier was crowded and streams of Flickers brushed past Sami’s group, hurrying and chattering as if they were late to an important event. The men wore wrappings and scarves around their heads and necks and billowing floor-length jackets. The women were in floor-length garments that sparkled with red and purple embroidery. Some of the Flickers were deep green; others were hues of apricot and coral. Many had long, ropy hair, filled with braids, glass beads, and strings of coins. They held babies with smudged eyes, and talked and looked around anxiously, the men fingering strings of prayer beads—just a few of them seeming to note Sami with any curiosity.
“I think some of them know what I am,” Sami murmured to Dorsom.
“It’s more they sense what you’re not,” Dorsom whispered back. “Besides, they’re too excited about the Director’s appearance to pay attention.” When Sami continued to scan the scene anxiously, he added, “Silverworld is more loving of newness and difference than is your Actual World. Here, Flickers enjoy it.”
Sami also thought she detected several Shadows slithering among and through the Flickers. They seemed not quite three-dimensional—a bit like flattened misty-gray people. She felt chills run up her back and instinctively moved closer to her friends. “They’re out here? Just on the loose?”
“These are not soldiers,” Natala said quietly. “You must remember—Shadows are a natural phylum too. We coexist with them in peace…for the most part.”
Dorsom checked the crowd. “It’s the fringe group to watch—those that Nixie has claimed and trained for her purposes. We have a saying in Silverworld, Sami: ‘The few don’t stand for the whole.’ There are many good and productive Shadows—there are even Shadow rebalancers.”
Even after their reassurances, though, Sami still felt anxious and uncomfortable, knowing such creatures were so near and all around. She squinted, her eyes darting, but it was so dazzling by the water it was hard to see much. There were hardly any clouds in the sky and the palm trees on the beach wafted back and forth like they were trying to erase something. Sami silently worried and wondered about how she would ever get back home.
All at once, there was a commotion at the end of the pier. About two hundred Flickers began to shout and point and call out. And that’s when she saw it.
The water sizzled and seethed, and a vast pink shadow moved like a wing under the water. The wind surged, forming whitecaps on the waves. Clouds filled the sky and the wind boiled, rocking the trees and grass. There was a deep roar and whipcrack, then a rumble that Sami felt all the way inside her bones.
Just as swiftly, the clouds rolled back and the howling wind died down. The water swirled, turned pink, and a gelatinous dome broke the surface. Sami watched the enormous thing rise: a translucent body, drifting tentacles, quills, hairlike spikes and fringes that swirled in the
water and continued down into the depths. Inside its body a constellation of colors blinked and glowed with mysterious incandescence.
It floated in midair for a few seconds, big as a house, tentacles dangling in the water. Finally, sighing powerfully, the thing settled on the ocean surface, breaking the water into waves.
The Flickers began crying out and waving frantically, trying to get in front of each other. Sami heard “Rotifer” called over and over: O, Greatness! O, Director!
Sami felt a kind of hush fall over her in the presence of this thing, which was somehow powerfully ugly and beautiful at the same time. Its milky-clear tentacles swirled and sparkled and its body flashed. It didn’t seem to have eyes or ears in its domed head, but she could make out a furious activity of shapes whirring through the pinkness, as if its thoughts took form as they came into being. “But—it’s an actual rotifer?” Sami gawked. “We studied them in science—they’re tiny. They’re practically amoebas!”
“In your World,” Natala gently chided.
“Rotifer is the oldest creature in Silverworld, born even before the realm of the Giants. It was there at the start,” Dorsom said. “It founded the School of Rebalancers, orders of mystics and of alchemists, among many other guilds and societies.”
“Between Flickers and Shadows, Rotifer is a species of in-betweens—part Flicker and part Shadow—shape-shifters, very powerful, called the Ifrit,” Natala added. “Once a cycle, at sun-wane, the Director rises from its home waters to accept one question or request. For centuries, light beings have come to the pier to ask for guidance and favors.” Natala’s long hair lifted in the warm breeze.
“Just one question?” Sami’s stomach fell in dismay. The pier was filled with Flickers. Hundreds more were arriving from every direction. All of them clamoring, calling to the great creature, many throwing roses, tulips, or lilies. The din was powerful—especially the thousands of thoughts, which Sami felt shouting, throbbing in her temples.
Natala slipped an arm around her waist. “Are you all right?” Her purple eyes glimmered with concern.
“This will never work.” Sami gestured around in despair. “One question? I could come out here every day for a hundred years and never get to ask.”
“In the past, it was much easier to gain an audience,” Dorsom admitted. “Rare to find more than one Flicker waiting to consult with the Director. These days, they come in crowds, begging for help with their missing ones.”
“But if ever we’re getting you back to your people—this is it,” Natala said. “Rotifer alone knows all the ways and paths between the Worlds.”
Sami felt her chest tighten and her eyes grow hot. She stared at the masses of Flickers, squeezing in all around them. Then it’s hopeless, she thought.
No, Dorsom thought back at her. She was barely able to perceive his thought against the background of Flicker thought-noise. No, he repeated. Reach into yourself, for what you most want. You must have faith.
It sounded just like something her teta would say. Sami took a breath, then frowned and mashed away her tears with the back of her hand. She trained her eyes on the great pink mass, half sitting in the water, half drifting. She released that breath and thought: Oh, Rotifer, I just want to go home. Please, won’t you please help me?
Rotifer lifted a tentacle and pointed to someone else in the crowd. As the lucky one was chosen, a small cheer went up, as well as a number of sighs and protests. Then the Flickers nodded to each other, collected their things, and began to walk up the pier, back in the direction from which they’d come.
“Ah, already the Director has chosen,” Natala said quietly.
Sami’s shoulders sank in despair and Dorsom patted her softly on the back. She began to walk toward shore with the others. But before she’d even gotten halfway, Sami slowed down. She stopped. The crowd bumped and jostled around her, talking. The air was sparkling clear and bright and she shielded her eyes, trying to take it all in.
Sami started thinking. Wondering. Was there any possibility that she had come—or been brought—to Silverworld for an actual reason? It was all so weird and had happened so suddenly that it had felt like a mistake. But hadn’t Teta’s spell book opened to just that page and taken her right to just this place? Through all her shock and confusion, she’d never really considered this possibility.
She rubbed her arms, feeling a chill as the thought occurred to her: What if I’m not supposed to go home yet?
At just that moment, Sami sensed something happening—it felt like a gate opening within her body, a channel between herself and the amazing swirling creature. And a wisp of a voice had murmured, clearly audible beneath all the other thoughts: Come here.
Sami turned and began walking back, pressing through the crowd of departing Flickers, all of them now streaming off the pier, back to wherever they’d come from. She dodged and squeezed and ducked between Flickers, while several steps behind, her friends were calling to her and scurrying to catch up.
Heard you something? Dorsom asked. In what register was the thought? He scanned the last of the departing crowd as he took her arm.
The pier had almost emptied of Flickers and she could see that the great rosy Rotifer appeared to be addressing not a Flicker but a Shadow being. The Shadow’s murky form was on its knees before Rotifer, its head bowed in silence.
Staring, Sami, Dorsom, and Natala came to a stop a short distance away. Sami tried to focus and pick up on their exchange of thoughts, but heard nothing—it had never seemed so silent inside her own mind before. The Rotifer lifted a tentacle and the Shadow remained motionless, but within the well of its body she saw what seemed to be pinpricks of stars glow and twinkle.
After this silent communication, the starry Shadow got to its feet and bowed low to the Rotifer. As it began to walk past the group of friends, it appeared to notice Sami. It stopped abruptly and Sami hesitated, afraid this was one of the creatures that were hunting her. Instead, it bowed deeply again and Dorsom and Natala bowed back. Finally, it straightened and went on its way, leaving her feeling unnerved, yet somehow honored.
One of ours, Dorsom beamed to her.
She watched, entranced, as the Shadow walked away. A moment later, she realized it felt as though her feet were buzzing. It felt, in fact, as if the buzz were climbing her legs, past her knees, and enveloping her body. It was a strange, lovely feeling, like standing in a cloud of stingerless bees—bumbling, light, soft bodies against her skin. She heard Dorsom calling, as if from a great distance, Look!
Lifting her eyes, she saw that the big tilting spikes had turned into wildly snaking forms, swirling in the air. She understood then that somehow it was reading or investigating her. It asked, What Being are you?
All at once it seemed as if somehow she’d gotten very light, as if there weren’t enough weight on her feet. Sami was being lifted right into the air. The buzzing sensation now seemed to her like hundreds of fuzzy, vibrating balls of white light, fizzing along her body, carrying her easily, then placing her on the wooden planks directly in front of the gigantic Rotifer. She felt calm and happy, as if the white balls filled her with their soft opaque light. Even though the creature before her was three stories high and weirder than anything she’d ever seen, she didn’t feel afraid.
The water around the great form shivered and the Rotifer swayed from side to side, its snaking spikes swirling wildly. Once again, Sami felt the low whistling sound that made her hair stand up. One by one, then, the balls of light dimmed and went out, and Sami sank closer to the pier. The two Flickers went to their knees, heads bowed. When the last bit of fuzzy light went out, her last bit of courage also seemed far away. She squinted up at the Rotifer.
“Intruder.” Its voice tumbled, and the golden water surged and splashed high against the pier railing. “How come you into my World?”
Without lifting his eyes, Dorsom stood beside Sami. His hand
on her shoulder wasn’t enough to cut through the new fear she felt. She tried to speak, but for a moment her fear seemed to freeze the words inside her throat. “O, magnificent Director,” he called. “It wasn’t her fault! She didn’t mean to Cross.”
“Didn’t mean to.” The pink sides wobbled in the sunlight as its quills twirled. “How could some such creature—an Actual—puncture the SilverSkinned mirror and come to interfere with me and my creatures? Did the rebalancers somehow bring this about?”
“The mirror called to her.” Natala also stood, head lowered, her hand on Sami’s other shoulder. “It turned bright and liquid. Dorsom was alerted and he went to catch her.”
“I had no way to warn her,” Dorsom said. “I could only stand and watch her fall through.”
“You are brave, rebalancers, to speak up for this outlander.” Rotifer’s quills slowed their frenetic activity and seemed to bend in Dorsom’s direction. “It’s your sacred mission to keep harmony and yet you defend an intruder. I could have you all swept away, broken into the cosmic dust!”
Sami felt its bellow rocking through her body and rattling her teeth. The air smelled powerfully of earth and rain, fish and mangroves. She was shaking, but she wouldn’t let her friends take the blame. She stepped forward and blurted, “No! It’s—it’s not their fault. I’m the one to blame—the only one.”
Silence, creature. The Rotifer blasted its thought, and she stumbled backward into the Flickers.
Then she felt something harden inside her bones. It was a bit like the old strength, the kind Teta had told her about. The courage of the Ifrit. She got back to her feet, though her knees wobbled, and she nearly lost her balance. She blasted a thought back: I will not be silent.
It had taken all her will to do it. She felt light-headed. But the big pink body dipped, light bending over its smooth surface. And if such a thing had emotions, she would have guessed it was feeling surprise. “Your nerve is impressive,” the Rotifer finally said in its eerie low whistle of a voice. “Almost as great as your foolishness and arrogance. You have no business and no right being in this World.” Now its long spikes pointed at her. They rolled with a slashing movement like the blade on her father’s handsaw. “You are not worthless, it seems. Instead of dashing you out of existence, I think I shall incorporate you.”
Silverworld Page 5