Crows was right: Down was dangerous and unpredictable. But it was also wide and glorious and empty, and it was people like Crows that made it difficult. That, and the occasional storms that seemed to demand a sacrifice as they passed by. Was that going to make being here nothing but a series of seemingly reasonable compromises until he became as wicked as Bell or as sly as Crows?
He growled at his own equivocation. He knew what he should◦– and more importantly, shouldn’t◦– do, no matter the personal consequences. While the decisions would have to be made by all of them, it was up to him how strongly he objected to the choices made.
There was nothing to stop him from walking away, but then he’d be on his own. He always imagined, living vicariously through books, that he could survive in a situation like this. The reality was, he didn’t know. He guessed he could probably cope, at least for a while, with the vagaries of Down: it was the way Down altered people, mentally and spiritually, not physically, that caused the biggest problems.
And if he thought like that, then other people rescued by Down would too. So again, Crows was right, and he felt grubby acknowledging that. But if there was nothing stopping him from becoming the worst of himself, then there was nothing stopping him from being the best of himself either.
‘Dalip? Are you coming down?’
He blinked, and there was Luiza, orange overalls half-lowered and tied around her waist by the arms, staring up at him.
‘Just a second.’
He took another long look at the coastline. There was nothing; nothing to indicate that they weren’t the first to ever pass that way, even though Crows assured them that the way to the White City was well trod.
That gave him the inkling of an idea, and before he reached the bottom of the tree, it was fully formed.
‘How far?’ Luiza asked him.
‘A couple of hours before we hit the coast. After that, who knows?’ Dalip was already looking about him differently, searching for signs that other feet, naked and shod, had passed their way. ‘Crows says there might be a boat, but that we might have to steal it. He says he can’t make one.’
‘Crows is full of shit, yes?’
‘Yes, but he nearly always tells the truth, even while he’s betraying you.’
They walked back towards the trunk, where Mama was sitting on its flat wooden lid.
‘If there is a boat to steal, well. We can do that. There are six of us, and we have two◦– whatever you want to call them◦– with us.’ Luiza pulled at her ponytail. ‘What will that gain us? Can any of us sail? Or do we put a collar on Crows so he can pull us?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve done some sailing. But when I say some, I mean a week in a little dinghy on a reservoir. I could probably not drown us in a light breeze. Anything more than that?’ He shrugged.
‘There is another problem. Would you trust Crows on water?’ she asked.
‘I don’t trust Crows on land.’
‘Here,’ and she stamped her foot against the soft ground, ‘he is a man who can do magic and send birds to look for him. We are barely his equals. Out there, at sea, he is a master and we are nothing. I will not get in a boat with him, or near him.’
‘He wouldn’t risk the maps.’
‘He could pick us out of a boat, one by one. He would eat us before we could throw the trunk over the side. Mama knows this. Even my silly cousin knows this. You know this, too.’ She stepped back and regarded Dalip from his bare brown feet to his covered hair. ‘Only Mary thinks she can tame him.’
‘I can’t do anything about that.’
Luiza sniffed. ‘If she leaves us for him, they will take the maps. There will be nothing we can do to stop them.’
‘She’s not going to leave us.’
‘She will, if he makes her choose.’
‘She won’t.’ Dalip turned away. ‘She’s better than that.’
‘Who’s better than that?’ asked Mama, raising her head from her chest.
‘Mary,’ he said.
‘That child is headstrong and wayward. But she has a good heart.’ Mama stretched her legs out in front of her, and twisted her ankles until the bones clicked. ‘Is it time to move on already?’
‘Dalip says the sea is not far.’
‘Not far? And where’s this White City? Can you see it yet?’
‘It’s further, Mama. Further than I can see.’
She frowned at the news: more than that, because she turned her face away and ran a fingertip firmly down the side of her nose, drying it with a wipe of her thumb before anyone could see the single tear that had leaked out.
This. This was the complicating factor: Mama hated walking. How much simpler to find a boat and try to sail across the wide bay. If they took precautions, if they made sure Crows couldn’t just get rid of the inconvenience of them and seize the maps? Then what? Did that make stealing a boat more palatable?
Mama would say that it wouldn’t, even as she imagined herself being carried over the waves.
‘What else could you see, Dalip?’
‘Just… Down. More Down. There’s a couple of islands out in the bay, but there’s nothing really. We’re quite low here, this close to the sea. Mary will scout ahead and tell us what’s on our route.’
‘No sign of anyone?’
‘No. I want to get the maps out when we reach the coast, see if we can work out where the villages and castles are going to be.’
She nodded, and slowly, wearily, stood up.
‘This is taking too long,’ she said. ‘I should be back, taking care of my babies. We’ve been gone for weeks.’
‘We don’t know,’ he started, but Luiza tossed her head back with a grunt of frustration.
‘London has gone, Mama. The door was destroyed. It does not matter if it was two minutes or two months ago.’
‘I will not believe that. My babies are waiting for me to come back, and don’t you dare say otherwise.’
They squared up to each other, Luiza pale and pinched, Mama flushed and folded-arms angry. Dalip pressed his hand to his forehead. He’d never been a peacemaker; normally he hid when family members turned, always temporarily, on each other.
‘It’s academic anyway,’ he said. ‘We don’t know what’s happening in London, and we don’t know how fast time is moving here, relative to home.’
‘What are you saying?’ Mama was suddenly reminded of his presence.
He chose his words carefully. ‘When we get back,’ he said, avoiding the word ‘if’, ‘it might be that five minutes has passed, and no one will know we’ve been gone.’ He stared at Luiza, daring her to undo his good work.
She opened her mouth, then closed it again, pursing her lips.
Mama snorted. ‘You wishing it won’t make it so.’ But she bent down to pick up her boots and stalked off into the trees.
‘She is lying to herself,’ said Luiza, ‘and you are encouraging her.’
‘What else am I supposed to say? That her babies are dead, and long burned to piles of unrecognisable ash?’
‘It is not kind to pretend there is hope,’ she hissed.
He took a deep breath. ‘I’m not pretending. Sometimes I think you’re right, that London has gone, and everyone in it. Sometimes I think she’s right. But we’re not going to know until we can check for ourselves. Until then, speculation is useless, and it only causes trouble. I… It’s even more complicated than that. I don’t think we have to worry about how long we spend here.’
‘Because?’
‘Down is a time machine.’
Luiza’s face froze.
‘Should I explain?’