The Voyage to Magical North (17 page)

“There's nothing more real than what you're feeling,” said Marfak West.

His words flashed through Peter's mind, as bright as magic. Everything Peter wanted, the answers to all his questions, lay on the far side of this storm. As soon as the thought had left him, he knew which way they had to go, as clearly as if he could see the path right in front of him. He held the starshell gently and felt a faint tug in return. “Left,” he said, hoping he was correct.

Cassie's fingers dug into his shoulder. “Full speed to the left!”

*   *   *

Brine sat and watched as Peter gave directions. The wind tugged at her clothes, whispering around her while, above the mainmast, a twist of light turned the clouds violet.

“It's a natural phenomenon caused by static discharge,” said Tom. “Nothing to worry about.” He was looking away from her as he spoke, so she couldn't see his face, but she guessed it was roughly the same shade of gray as the sea.

“Hello, Brine,” said the static discharge.

The voice was like lightning across her vision. Brine yelped.

There was no such thing as ghosts. She knew that for a fact. You lived and then you died and you stayed dead. It was the world's way of making room for new people.
It's a trick of the storm
, she thought. She tried to say so, but she couldn't manage more than a squeak. That didn't seem to bother her parents, who both smiled at her.

Brine wasn't sure how she could tell they were her parents—she just knew. Her father was tall, dark-skinned, and handsome. Her mother was shorter, with crinkly black hair that crackled with stray lightning. Brine's head felt like it was about to explode. She got up slowly and walked away from Tom. He didn't notice: His gaze had already drifted into the distance.

“You're not real,” she said to the ghosts of her parents.

“Of course we are,” said Brine's father. “Otherwise we wouldn't be here. It's good to see you looking so well. We did worry that you wouldn't survive.”

“Maybe you should have thought about that before you put me in a boat and sent me off to die,” said Brine angrily. She didn't care if they weren't real. She'd been saving this argument up inside herself for a long time. “Why did you do it?”

Her mother wiped away a tear. “We had to. It was the only chance we had of saving your life.”

Brine shook her head. This wasn't real—it couldn't be. “You're only saying that because it's what I want you to say. You're only in my head.”

Her father held out his arms to her. “We're here. We've come to take you home.”

That was all Brine needed to hear. She started forward, but a pair of arms grabbed her round the middle. The ghosts of her parents vanished back into the sea. Brine yelled, kicked, and heard a familiar yelp of pain behind her. She swung round, her fists raised, and stopped when she realized she was staring straight into Peter's face.

“What do you think you're doing?” she shouted.

He dropped his gaze and pointed.

Brine looked behind her. She was right on the edge of the ship. Another step would have taken her overboard.

“It must have been good, whatever you were seeing,” said Peter.

“Not really.” She stumbled past him and leaned against the mast, her legs trembling. The
Onion
had slowed almost to a stop, and around the deck, the crew were stirring as if they were just waking up and weren't sure where they were. Marfak West waited at the helm, an impatient frown on his face.

“If you've quite finished rescuing your silly friends,” he said, “we have a job to finish.”

Peter's cheeks flushed.

“You'd better do it,” said Brine. “We should get out of here.” She reached for him as he turned to go. “Thanks,” she added.

Peter cast her a smile and went back to Marfak West. Brine's knees gave way, and she slid down onto the deck. She hadn't really seen her parents, she knew. The storm had affected her and made her see what she wanted to see. The only part of it that was real at all was when Peter had dropped everything to save her life.

Tom joined her, looking shaken. “Sorry,” he whispered.

“It's not your fault. What did you see?”

“Lightning, and some shapes that looked like birds, only bigger, and one of them breathed fire at me like a dragon.” Tom scratched his nose, frowning. “Then I saw you walking to the edge of the ship, and Peter ran and grabbed you. I don't think Marfak West was very happy.”

Brine rested her head on her knees. “I thought I saw my parents, just for a minute.” She heaved a sigh.

“You'll find them,” said Tom.

“I know. When we get to Magical North. I'll look for them, find out where they are now. Then I'll go and find them in person.”

“I can help,” said Tom. “Barnard's Reach has all the stories of the world collected together. They're bound to have something about people being abandoned at sea.”

It was nice of him to offer. “Maybe,” said Brine. She didn't add “I hope so,” because hoping for something seemed to be the quickest way to make sure it never happened.

The
Onion
continued onward as Peter guided them. A short time later, the wind picked up, but it seemed to be urging them on now instead of knocking them from side to side. A patch of pale light appeared on the deck—real, pure sunlight. The crew cheered. It was ragged and exhausted, but a cheer nevertheless.

*   *   *

Peter heard the cheers, but he didn't take his gaze off the starshell, not until the clouds broke and the
Onion
burst through the far edge of the storm into sunlight. Only then did he lower his hands and look around. Brine and Tom were sitting by the mainmast. Trudi was trying to bandage Bill Lightning's broken nose, while Rob Grosse and Tim Burre cleared away severed ropes. For all the attention the crew paid Peter, he might as well not have been there.

Cassie sheathed her cutlass. “Well done, Peter.” She left him with Marfak West and went to check on Bill.

“Get used to it,” said Marfak West. “They'll pull you out when they need something, but they'll never trust you. Your magic makes you better than them, and they know it, so you'll never be one of them.” He turned toward Ewan Hughes, who was approaching, his face like thunder. “Don't you agree, Mr. Hughes?”

Ewan seized the magician by the arms. “I wasn't listening. You're going back in your cage, where you belong.”

Marfak West met Peter's gaze as the pirate pulled him away. “See what I mean? They're afraid of what we might do together, so they have to keep us apart. Don't worry, though—they'll want us both again soon enough. We haven't reached the sea monster yet.”

Peter turned his back on him, trying to pretend he didn't care that all the crew were talking but no one was talking to him. He hoped Marfak West was joking about the sea monster, but he had a nasty feeling that Marfak West didn't tell jokes. He pushed through everyone to the side of the ship and stood, feeling slightly sick. He tried not to notice how the rest of the crew avoided looking at him, and how Rob Grosse and Tim Burre started whispering the moment he turned his back. Marfak West was right—he was never going to fit in, not really, and it was about time he got used to it.

Someone touched him on the shoulder, and he turned and saw Brine. She looked different, and it took him a moment to work out why—she was smiling at him, smiling as if she actually like him. Then she sniffed and stifled a sneeze. “That was really brave when you grabbed me,” she said. “Stupid, but brave. We could have gone off course, back into the storm.”

“I didn't really think about it.” Peter kicked the edge of the deck. The empty hollow inside him began to fill up with the slow realization that maybe he did have at least one friend on board, after all. He didn't want to think about it; he didn't want to think at all. He wanted everyone to be wrong—that was what he was trying not to think, and, typically, the effort of not thinking about something brought that thing straight into his mind. Once, Marfak West was just a name in a story and the name had scared Peter so much he couldn't sleep at night. Not anymore. Now Peter thought he understood the magician a little, and even liked him a little. And that one thought scared him more than the name
Marfak West
ever had.

 

C
HAPTER
20

You can sail at your leisure to seek out great treasure

But I've got a better idea.

Stay home in your bed and dream gently instead

Of a wonder called Cassie O'Pia.

 

Her beauty exceeds all that anyone needs,

Her eyes set the morning aglow.

For one chance to see her, fair Cassie O'Pia,

A man would walk naked through snow.

(
From
THE
BALLAD
OF
CASSIE
O
'
PIA,
Verses 184–185, Author Unknown)

The
Onion
sailed through waters that were definitely choppy, but not in a violent, deliberate way. It was more like the sea was giving a nudge now and then to remind the crew it could still capsize the ship if it wanted to. Peter wondered if he could give the sea a shove back and decided it was best just to let his starshell recover for now.

The days continued to lengthen, and the temperature dropped as they traveled, the sun taking permanent cover behind the clouds. A few times, Peter spotted whales following the ship, and the wind sharpened until it cut through several layers of clothing. Cassie loaned Brine a sweater, and Ewan Hughes gave Peter an old coat that was much too big but did help keep the cold out.

At last, the air became so cold and dry that it hurt to breathe, and all the crew were fighting to get under the remaining blankets. The sky faded to a ghostly green that never changed or grew dark. Flashes of brighter colors twisted overhead from time to time.

“The Stella Borealis,” said Tom, looking up at them. He sat on an upturned bucket, writing. “Northern starlight. Boswell called it the Magus Borealis because he said it's caused by magic flaring off the world into the sky.”

Peter hooked another bucket round and sat down next to him, huddling into his coat. Tom, in contrast, seemed to be sitting up straighter every day. He'd stopped hunching over as if he was afraid he'd touch something and break it, and his voice, though still quiet, had lost the library whisper.

Peter put his hands in his pockets. He'd wrapped the three starshell pieces up together. They were regaining magic faster than he'd anticipated—an effect of being so far north, he guessed—and the cloth around them was already starting to fray. Soon, he'd have to find another bunch of rags to wrap them in.

“What was it like growing up in a library?” he asked Tom.

Tom thought a moment. “Imagine that you live in a place where you're not allowed to run or talk or play. Now imagine that you've only got old ladies for company.”

Peter imagined and shuddered. Tom nibbled the end of his pen. “Stories are full of people who are the odd ones out when they're growing up but turn into heroes. I used to pretend that I was a magician and one day I'd find some starshell and save the world.”

“It's not that great being a magician,” said Peter. “Back home, I had to do all the jobs Tallis Magus didn't want. And copy out spellshapes—a lot. I was on my own, apart from Brine, and she was only the servant.” He shifted uncomfortably, remembering how he'd ordered her around. “You can see if you're a magician if you like,” he offered. He took the starshell out of his pocket. “You just have to hold the starshell and try to feel the magic inside.”

Tom snatched his hands back. “Thanks, but I think I'm going to be a news-scribe instead—one who travels the world.”

Peter didn't blame him. Sometimes he wished that he'd never put his hand on starshell and found out what he could do. And sometimes it seemed to be the only thing in the world that mattered.

He saw Ewan Hughes approaching, and he groaned inwardly. A few of the crew had stopped what they were doing and were casually edging closer, too.

What now?
“Whatever it is,” said Peter, “it isn't my fault.”

“It's not that,” said Ewan. He kept his hands behind his back. “The thing is, me and the crew noticed how you don't have anywhere safe to keep your starshell, and … well. We got together and made something for you.”

He thrust a box out at Peter.

Peter blinked at it. He reached out and took it, still believing this was a trick. Lifting the lid, he saw that the inside was lined with gold and silver coins, all hammered flat and overlapping like fish scales.

“We all chipped in,” said Ewan. “We made it bigger than you need, too. You know, in case you find any more starshell.”

A warm feeling spread in Peter's chest. The crew were all looking at him, and Peter spotted something in their faces he hadn't seen before. A certain pride and a wary respect. Had that been there all along, and he'd just never noticed? The warmth in his chest spread up to his cheeks.

“Uh, thanks,” he said.

“You're welcome.” Ewan stood for a moment, frowning as if he wasn't quite sure what else he should say. Peter's shoulders sagged in relief when the pirate walked away. He put the starshell pieces in the box, laid their gold chain on top of them, and closed the lid. He could still feel the magic in his fingertips. “Have you ever wished,” he asked Tom, “that people would just want you for who you are and not for what you can do?”

“I don't know,” said Tom. “I can't do much.”

“That's not true. You're good at finding things out—and writing them down.”