“I was so distraught, anxious, exhausted—not to mention hungry and thirsty—that I eventually collapsed during the darkest part of the night and fell into a deep sleep.”
Nathan smiled to encourage the young man. “You have the makings of a storyteller, my boy. You’ve got me intrigued. How did you ever get out of it?”
“I don’t know,” Bannon said. “I honestly don’t know.”
Nathan frowned. “Then you have to work on a better ending for your story.”
“Oh, there’s a good ending, sir. I woke up the next morning, and instead of the silence of the endless waves, I heard the rush of water against a shore, surf riding up on the shingle. I realized that my boat wasn’t rocking anymore. I stood up and nearly fell out. I had washed up on the shore of an island, a place I recognized! This was Chiriya, the same cove where Ian and I used to swim.”
“How did you get back there?”
The young man shrugged. “Sweet Sea Mother, I told you—I don’t know. Sometime during the night when I was unconscious from exhaustion, something had taken me back to our island, brought me safely to shore.”
“Are you sure the currents didn’t just circle you around to your starting point? In the fog, how would you ever know?” Nathan looked down his nose. “You’re not saying it was the selka who rescued you?”
Bannon seemed embarrassed. “I’m saying that I found myself safely back on shore, where I had started from, and I don’t know how. In all the vast ocean and all the islands in the sea, I had come back to the very place I called my home, the cove where I’d started from.” He paused for a long moment, then looked at the wizard and smiled in wonder. “And in the soft dirt of the shore, beside my boat—which had been dragged much farther up out of the water than even a high tide would have left it—I saw a footprint.”
“What kind of footprint?”
“It looked human … almost. But the toes were webbed, like a sea creature’s. I saw the faint impression of what looked like a fin’s edge and sharp points like claws, instead of human toenails.”
Nathan chuckled. “A fine story that is! And you said nothing had ever happened to you.”
“I suppose.…” Bannon did not sound convinced.
The jellyfish swarm showed no sign of abating. Egged on by his crewmates, the broad-shouldered Karl picked up a barb-tipped harpoon and tied a rope through the metal eye on the tail end of the shaft. As the others cheered and hooted, the veteran sailor leaned over the side and tossed the harpoon down to pop one of the jellyfish like a large ripe blister. The iron point pierced the membrane, bursting the gelatinous creature into a smoking puddle. As the residue drifted out among the other jellyfish, its companions scooted away from the remains like fleeing robber bugs.
With guffaws of laughter, the other sailors ran to get more harpoons, but when Karl pulled the harpoon back up by the rope, he grunted in amazement. “Look! Look at this.” The sharpened iron tip was smoking, and it began to droop as acid pitted and ate away the metal.
The other sailors stopped, poised to throw their harpoons as part of the game to pop the jellyfish. Curious, Karl extended a callused finger, but before he could touch the smoking iron tip, Nathan barked a warning. “Leave that alone, or you might lose a hand as well as a harpoon tip.”
Captain Eli scolded them all. “I told you to leave those jellyfish be! The sea has enough dangers for us. We don’t need to make any more.”
With a clatter, the other sailors lowered their harpoons, then sheepishly stowed them away.
CHAPTER 11
The Wavewalker sailed south for a full week. Captain Eli bypassed the larger coastal cities in the Old World, and Nicci was concerned about the changed currents, altered wind patterns, and unreliable stars in the night sky. “Are we lost?” she asked, standing next to the captain at the bow one afternoon.
“Lady Sorceress, I know exactly where I’m sailing.” He wiped the thin end of his pipe between thumb and forefinger, then inserted it back into his mouth. “We are heading straight for the reefs.”
Overhearing, Nathan stepped up to them. “That sounds ominous.”
Pushed along by a steady sea wind, the Wavewalker moved at a fast clip. The captain gazed ahead. “Not if you know where you’re going.”
“And how can you be sure? You claimed the charts and currents were no longer accurate,” Nicci said.
“They aren’t, but I’m a captain, and the salt water of the sea runs through my veins. I can feel it in my senses. But before I can trade in Serrimundi or Lefton Harbor, I need to take on my most valuable cargo. Tomorrow morning, you’ll see what I mean.”
Captain Eli was right.
Taking his shift on the lookout platform high on the mainmast, Bannon called out, “A line of foam due south, Captain! Looks like rough water.”
The captain leaned closer to the carved figurehead of the Sea Mother, shading his eyes. “That’ll be the reefs.”
Nicci watched the shirtless wishpearl divers rouse themselves, as if awakening from a long sleep. “Our services are required,” said the one named Sol, who seemed to be their leader.
Elgin stretched lazily. “I’ll get the ropes and the weights.”
The other three, Pell, Buna, and, Rom, began breathing deeply, inhaling, exhaling, stretching their shoulders, loosening their arms. Given the size of their chests, and their commensurate lungs, Nicci guessed these divers might be able to stay underwater for some time.
Buna narrowed his eyes at Nicci. “After a good day’s haul of wishpearls, maybe we’ll all get to have our wish with the lady.”
With a huff, Nathan took insult at the comment, but Nicci answered calmly, “If I get my wish, you won’t be physically capable of thinking such thoughts ever again.”
* * *
Even without charts, Captain Eli guided the Wavewalker through the choppy water, dodging dark barriers of exposed reefs, but the ship had room to maneuver in the deep channels. The crewmen tied up the sails, rolling the canvas against the yardarms and lashing it tight. When the ship slowly drifted into position, they dropped anchor in a calm sheltered area, while the waves continued to break and foam along the outer lines of submerged coral.
Once the ship was safely anchored, the eager sailors watched the five wishpearl divers make their preparations. Sol barked orders to his comrades. “We go down two at a time. I dive first with Elgin, second will be Rom and Pell. After they come up, I’ll be rested enough to go down with Buna.” He flexed his arms back to display his broad pectorals marked with a chain of tattooed circles.
The divers opened a clay pot of grease, which they smeared over their skin. The grease would keep them warm as they went deep into the intricate coves and crannies of the reef. The grease also made them slide through the water, according to Rom, who smeared an extra layer across his chest.
Although the five divers had similar lines of circular tattoos, some sported more circles than others. Nicci learned that the tattoos were a tally of how many chests of wishpearls each diver had collected. Sol had been down so many times, he had started a second line on the right side of his chest. They each wore a braided belt from which dangled long, curved hooks to hang iron weights on, as well as a mesh sack for harvesting shells while they were underwater.
As the first divers, Sol and Elgin each tied one end of a long hemp rope to the belt around his waist and secured the other end to the foremast. Then they climbed up onto the rail, poised on callused bare feet. They fastened iron weights to the hooks on their belts, which would drag them down to the bottom so they wouldn’t waste time or breath stroking down to their destination. Once deep among the reefs, they could easily unhook and discard the weights before swimming back up.