Helen Dunmore - The Complete Ingo Chronicles - Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept

“No Air Person must see this. No divers in Ingo,” I say aloud.

“I knew you’d understand, once you’d seen this place,” says Faro, as if he’s read my thoughts. We look at each other in agreement, on the same side.

“What do you mean?” breaks in Conor. He swings round to us, turning his back on Limina. He’s not listening to any music now. His eyes are sharp on me and Faro. “Do you mean Roger? How are you going to keep him out? What are you going to do?”

“We won’t do anything,” says Faro. His gaze drifts towards the patrolling seals. Grey seals are formidable creatures, in their own element. It’s not safe to anger them. The swipe of their tail, their powerful muscles, their huge shoulders, the gouge of their teeth, their claws—

“I see,” says Conor. He looks at me, and then at Faro. His look is a challenge. “Oh yes, we will do something,” says Conor quietly.

“What?” asks Faro.

“I’m not going to stand by and watch Roger get hurt. You think it’s all right for Roger to have an accident , do you? Just because he’s strayed into your world without meaning to? It’s not Roger’s fault. He doesn’t know this place is here. This Limina . It doesn’t mean anything to him, how could it? He’s got to be warned, so he doesn’t come here. He won’t dive if he knows.”

“Won’t he?” asks Faro. “Look over there. No, there . That shape in the sand.”

“I can’t see anything—”

“Yes, you can. There.”

But all I can see is a dark mound, covered in weed.

“Part of a ship’s hull,” says Faro. “That’s what your diver is looking for. It’s buried there in the sand.”

“Wow,” says Conor, suddenly focusing on it. “Maybe it was a treasure ship.”

“Maybe it was,” agrees Faro.

“Haven’t you ever explored it?”

Faro shrugs. “What for?”

“Gold? Jewels?”

Faro shakes his head. “We don’t bother with them.”

“But I thought…” I say, “I mean, in pictures, Mer Kings always have crowns and jewels.”

“That’s because Air People are drawing the pictures. They draw the things they’d want themselves, if they were kings. But do you know how heavy gold is? Just think of trying to surf a current with a lump of gold dragging you down.”

“Faro, people don’t wear lumps of gold. It’s far too expensive. They wear a chain or something like that.”

“A chain! Really, Air People are strange. Why would they want to chain themselves up?”

“They don’t, it’s—”

“Air People are in love with metal, as far as I can see. They’ll do anything to get it. We hear them sometimes, digging tunnels deep under Ingo, mining for tin.”

“That can’t be true,” says Conor. “All the tin mines round here closed years ago. You can’t hear miners digging these days.”

Faro shrugs. “They mined here for thousands of years. They’ll be back. Air People will do anything for metal.”

He looks out over the quiet plain, at the drifting, silvery figures in the ghostly light. They look as if a puff of current will carry them away.

“Look!” exclaims Conor, under his breath, grabbing my shoulder. “Over there! What’s wrong with the seals?”

He’s right. They’ve stopped patrolling. They are massing on the borderline, about fifty metres from the farthest outcrop of the Bawns. Two seals – five – seven. More are swimming towards the group from the far side of Limina. How fast they swim. How strong they are.

“They’ve seen something,” says Conor under his breath. Faro says nothing. He just watches.

“What is it? What’s wrong? Do you know what’s going on, Faro?”

Faro shrugs. “Can’t be sure. It’s too far away. It could be anything.”

His voice is carefully casual, but his face is tense. Something is going on, and it’s serious.

“You’ve got to tell us, Faro!”

“I did tell you. The seals are guards. If they sense a threat to Limina, they’ll deal with it.”

“What threat?” Conor’s voice is harsh. “What can they see that we can’t?”

But I’m watching the seals. They mass together, move apart, turn, raise their heads as if they’re—

“They’re listening!” I say. “They can hear something.” And suddenly knowledge leaps into my head. They’re listening to something that I’ve heard too. A noise that doesn’t belong to Ingo. The throb of an engine. A boat’s engine, far away up on the surface.

“Roger’s boat,” says Conor.

“They’ve come, then.”

We stare at each other. The fear in Conor’s face mirrors and doubles the fear I know must be in mine. Only Faro isn’t afraid. He looks relaxed but his face is intent, like a cat’s when it’s watching, waiting…

“Faro, you can’t let this happen!”

“I can, Sapphire,” he says very quietly, but with complete determination. “They’d think nothing of destroying the Mer, your divers. Can’t you see what will happen to Limina once divers get near that wreck? Once humans know there’s gold there? We’re nothing to them. They don’t even see us. They’ll destroy our world and they won’t even know they’re doing it. Why should I help them? I am Mer, Sapphire. I belong to Ingo, not Air. I’ve made my choice.”

I feel as if Faro has claws which are tearing the two halves of me apart. I could never say what he’s just said. I could never say, I am Mer , without betraying the part of me that is Air, and human. Faro knows what he is, and I don’t. I half belong, but I’m half a stranger.

I don’t even like Roger. I wanted him to disappear out of our lives. And now I’m terrified, because it could be about to happen.

“Faro can let it happen,” says Conor, with a determination that sounds equal to Faro’s. “But I can’t. I’m going to stop the seals.”

“Conor, they’ll kill you!” Their teeth, their claws. One seal would be hard to stop, and there are dozens of them. I swallow the taste of fear. Can’t Conor see? These grey seals are the guardians of Limina. They’ll do whatever they have to do to protect it.

“I can’t let it happen, Sapphire,” repeats Conor. “I can’t let them kill Roger.” He isn’t boasting. He just sounds quiet, and determined.

“But you’ve forgotten one small detail,” says Faro in his silkiest voice. “You need to hold on to my wrist. Sapphire’s strength isn’t enough for you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For long seconds Faro and Conor stare at each other like enemies.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Faro repeats.

“So you think you’ve won,” says Conor. Slowly, deliberately, he unclasps his hand from Faro’s wrist. “But you haven’t,” he says, looking straight into Faro’s eyes, every word full of purpose.

“Conor! Don’t let go of him!”

“I’ve already let go, Saph. I’m going.”

“Conor, no, no, you can’t—”

But he’s turned away.

“Conor!” I plunge forward, forgetting Faro. “Wait for me!”

He’s swimming slowly, and I catch up with him in a few seconds. We are side by side, and as he glances at me I see that already he’s paler.

“Take my wrist, Conor!”

“I’m going to the seals, Sapphire. Don’t think you can stop me.”

It was instinct that made me rush after Conor. My brother, going into danger. I had to follow him, stop him. Nothing else mattered.

But something else matters to Conor.

“Got to warn Roger.”

Roger. In Ingo everything human seems far away. Even Mum, even our home. They don’t seem real. But when Conor says those words, Roger comes into my mind as clear as day. He’s standing in our kitchen. He’s telling me about his black Labrador, Rufie.