Ширли Мерфи - Nightpool

“If the boy leaves Nightpool,” growled Gorkk, “the hydrus will follow him, and leave us unmolested.”

Thakkur stood tall and still, an icy pillar staring at the three. “Would Nightpool deny sanction, deny safety and protection to the King of Auric?”

“What has the King of Auric to do with the boy?” Ekkthurian snapped. “We are speaking of a small, troublemaking boy.”

“We are speaking of the King of Auric,” said Thakkur. ‘Tebriel is the son of Everard of Auric, who was murdered by the dark forces. Tebriel is rightful heir to the throne.”

“You are lying,” shouted Ekkthurian. “He is only a homeless waif.”

But the tide was turned, and the seated otters began to grumble at Ekkthurian. They knew Thakkur did not lie.

‘Tebriel’s memory has returned to him,” said Thakkur. “He remembers his father’s murder and his own enslavement at the hands of Sivich, of the dark.”

“He says he’s the king’s son,” said Ekkthurian. “Does that make it fact?”

“It does. And my visions show the same.”

“And even if he were king,” growled Ekkthurian, “it would not change the harm he has brought to Nightpool. King or commoner, he must not be allowed to stay. He draws the hydrus here. He is a danger to us. He brings new ways that are a danger. The making of fire is insane; if fire is seen from the mainland, humans will be over here. The dark forces—if there are such—will surely be all over Nightpool, then. He is a danger, I tell you. A danger to all of us.” Ekkthurian seemed to grow blacker in his rage. “And if the hydrus comes for him again, here, many of us could die in its jaws.”

Teb stared across the heads of the gathered otters. Not one otter turned to look at him. He watched the three dark council members standing so fierce and still on the dais, and suddenly he had had enough. He was tight with fury as he stood up. All heads turned to look then.

“I am going,” he said evenly. “I am going now. You can expect that by the time you leave this cave I will be away from Nightpool.”

He walked out quietly, then ran the ledge to his cave, grabbed the knives and flint from the shelf, the cookpot, and shoved them into the pack, pulled Camery’s diary from his tunic pocket and pushed it in, too, grabbed his flippers, and made his way in the moonlight around the stone rim of the island, and down the cliff to the little beach. The path of the moon lay white across the water. I will find Camery and Garit, he thought. And I will retake Auric. I should never have stayed at Nightpool once I got well and could walk. He knelt to pull on his flippers and was thankful he had them as he stared out at the black, moon-washed sea.

Chapter 15

As he knelt to pull on his flippers, he heard Charkky shout, and Charkky and Mikk were plunging down the cliff. A crowd of otters streamed down after them, Jukka and Hokki and Litta and Kkelpin and dozens more. The owl soared overhead, and even Mitta climbed down, giving him such a soft, gentle look that it wrenched his heart.

“You can’t go,” Charkky said. “Thakkur . . .”

“I am going. It’s time I went,” Teb said coldly. And then the two otters were hugging him, fishy breath, stiff whiskers tickling him, and they weakened his resolve so, he had to push them away. “I have to,” he said roughly. “I won’t forget you. Not ever.”

“But you can’t go,” Mikk said. “Thakkur told us . . .”

“I must. I am. I’ve had enough of Ekkthurian. I’m only causing trouble here. And . . .”

“And what?” said Mikk.

“And maybe Ekkthurian’s right. Maybe I do draw the hydrus.”

“That’s what we’re trying to tell you,” Charkky interrupted. “Thakkur says if you do draw it, then you must stay.”

Teb stared at him. “You’re not making sense.”

“Thakkur thinks that you—”

“That you would protect us best by staying,” said the white otter, coming unseen from behind them. He gave Teb a level, loving look. But the kind of look that made Teb be still.

“If you do indeed draw the hydrus, Tebriel, then you must stay here with us. If you would help Nightpool at all, you will stay and draw the hydrus here.”

Teb stared at Thakkur.

“The hydrus is of the dark, Tebriel. It will help to lay waste to all the coastal waters. Nightpool cannot stop Quazelzeg, but we might stop the hydrus. If it is drawn here, if it comes to seek us out . . .”

“To seek me out.”

“Yes, to seek you out. You would be putting yourself in danger. But if you could lure it here, and we could kill it, you would not only help Nightpool, but you would also weaken the dark.”

Teb looked for a long time at Thakkur. He thought about it; and he knew the white otter was right.

He shouldered his pack at last and picked up his fins and started back up the cliff toward the caves. Thakkur climbed beside him, and Charkky and Mikk, and all the otters followed.

Then at the crest he turned away from them, with a quiet word to Thakkur, and went to his cave alone.

He put away his possessions and stood looking out at the waves. Their white foam shone bright in the moonlight. He was very tired suddenly. He pulled off his tunic and lay down beneath Mitta’s soft, warm blanket, clutching Camery’s diary to him. Was he doing the right thing? Or should he be searching for Camery and leading the hydrus away from Nightpool?

He woke in the morning still clutching the little book and, hardly thinking, he opened it and began to flip through the pages. He found his name over and over, even in the last hasty messages. It did not appear, though, on the pages where the lines were shorter so they didn’t fill the page. There was a rhythm to the length of these lines, and he began to study them.

He had printed out the words he had memorized in the great cave, “fox,” “otter,” “cape wolf,” “owl,” and “great cat,” onto the back of Garit’s message, with a sharp bit of charcoal. He looked at the words now. Yes, they were repeated several times in one of the short, rhythmic entries. It looked like—like his mother’s Song of the Creatures. . . . He began to say the words, counting them off with his finger.

Yes, the names of the animals fell in the right places, all of them. He knew the song! He knew the words to this writing! Here was the key, to unlock the sounds and meanings of the strings of letters.

He sat down on his sleeping ledge, pulled the blanket around his legs, and began to study the song. Word for word he spoke it, studying the letters, seeing the sounds they made. Word for word he repeated the sounds, memorizing the shapes of the letters that made them. His stomach rumbled with hunger. Morning turned to noon, and the afternoon light settled to a golden depth before he stirred himself. He read the Song of the Creatures, and then, filled with excitement, and with fear that it might not work after all, he turned to another of the short, rhythmic entries. And he found he could read that, too, the Song of the Sacking of Perlayne. And he read another, and another. He was reading! The forms of all the letters made sounds for him now. He reread every song. He knew them all, of course, and the sense of power it gave him to be recognizing their words, written down, was wonderful. And then at last, afraid to try but knowing he must, knowing he could, he began to read the words he did not know by heart. He started to read the other entries in Camery’s diary, beginning with the last, urgent passages. His efforts were slow and halting, as he sounded out the words, but the messages were clear.

*

Sivich came to the tower this morning to look me over, the way a horse trader looks at a colt. I don’t like it. If he takes me from this place, I will leave the diary for you, Teb. It’s all we have left of being together, and maybe you will find it.