The Crossing of Ingo (36 page)

Saldowr regards Elvira quizzically, but he doesn’t seem very surprised. “So you have found where you belong?” he asks her.

“Yes,” she says firmly.

“You will leave your brother behind, and all who love you.”

“I will take them with me in my heart,” says Elvira, even more firmly.

How can she say that? Does she think it’s that easy? Doesn’t she even know how much she’s hurting Faro?

Apparently not. Elvira looks radiant, and whatever Faro’s feelings are, he hides them well. Maybe I’m the only one who sees the shadow of pain in his eyes. I have the strangest feeling that in spite of all her healing knowledge, in spite of making the Crossing, Elvira still hasn’t really grown up. She still thinks that you can leave people behind, and not suffer for it.

“You will all visit me,” says Elvira, smiling around at us seraphically.

“But Conor will return to the human world,” says Faro. It’s a statement, not a question. Conor doesn’t contradict him, and Saldowr’s face remains neutral. A further question hangs in the air, but Faro doesn’t ask it, and I’m glad, because I still don’t know the answer. I wonder how much Saldowr knows, when he talks about the future. I know that he experiences time
differently from us. He can move back and forward, as if time were a carpet, rolling and unrolling for him to walk on. Maybe there are many rolls, and many possible futures. Only one of them can unroll for us.

Suddenly we hear voices outside the cave. Saldowr raises his hand for silence and listens intently. After a few seconds his face relaxes. “Faro,” he says, “go to the entrance and ask Talek and his friends to come in.”

Talek! He was one of Ervys’s followers. Why is Saldowr allowing him inside his sanctuary? I don’t want to see the people who are responsible for Dad’s death. But, as usual, Faro obeys Saldowr’s order without question. He reaches the cave’s entrance with one thrust from his powerful tail. I hear low voices, then Faro moves aside. Mer figures stream into the cave. I recognise Talek, and the ones whom Faro called Teweth and Morlappyer. There are six or seven others whom I don’t know. More voices murmur outside the cave. The remainder of Ervys’s army is with us. Even though we’re under Saldowr’s protection, I can’t help feeling a shiver of fear.

“Welcome,” says Saldowr. Talek bows his head. The others shift uneasily, glancing at us. “Greetings, Talek, Teweth, Morlappyer, Gwarier, Kenethel, Pledyer, Gweryn, Sketh, Hagerawl.”

Now I recognise Hagerawl too.

“Greetings,” they mumble, and then the one Saldowr named as Pledyer swims forward a little.

“Ervys is dead,” he says, not looking at Conor. The Mer gift
for stating the obvious clearly hasn’t deserted them.

“And Mortarow?” asks Saldowr.

“He has fled.”

“But many of Ervys’s supporters are alive and unwounded,” remarks Saldowr calmly.

“We have thrown down our spears,” says Pledyer.

“Yes. I heard that you had done that. And the sharks did not fight for you in the end, I believe, apart from one rogue bull shark who was brave enough to attack a girl from behind.”

“The sharks deserted us,” growls Talek.

“No,” says Saldowr. His voice doesn’t grow louder, but it becomes more stern. “The sharks did not desert you. I spoke to them and they remembered their duty, which they had abandoned to hunt these young ones. You know that to the sharks, duty is everything, unless they are crazed by the scent of blood. We spoke, and I was able to remind them of what they had forsaken.” I shiver, remembering the sharks’ cold, pitiless eyes.

“We are here to say that it is all over,” Pledyer says.

“All over?” Saldowr counters him. “Go to Mellina, who has lost the man she loved and her baby’s father, and tell her that it is
all over.
Tell little Mordowrgi that it is
all over,
when he’s old enough to understand that it has only just begun. Ask these children, whose father you killed, if it is
all over.”
And he looks at me and Conor as if he really expects us to answer. But we can’t do that. Dad’s dead, not only because of Ervys but because of all of them.

The burly, broad-shouldered Mer men look at us too. Suddenly I am not afraid of them any more. Their faces are so defeated, so exhausted. They look as if they have no hope left. And yet they’ve come to Saldowr, when they could easily have fled or even kept on fighting.

“Why have you come here?” asks Conor.

Anger swells inside me. Yes, why? After everything that’s happened, how dare they come to Saldowr’s cave as if they’ve got the right to negotiate? They were defeated in battle. Ervys is dead and his support is melting away.
Now
they come, when it’s too late and the harm has been done. If they’d come earlier and they’d been willing to talk – and to listen – there needn’t have been any bloodshed. They closed their minds to us because Ervys was so sure he was right and no one else knew anything about what was best for Ingo. And so Dad had to die. I wish Saldowr hadn’t mentioned Mordowrgi. He’s just a little baby who smiles at everyone and doesn’t even know what death is. He’ll keep expecting Dad to come home and pick him up for a cuddle.

“We have come because of the dolphins,” says Talek in answer to Conor. His voice is rough. He sounds angry but I don’t think it’s anger than makes his voice so harsh. His shoulders are bowed, as if a heavy weight oppresses him.

“The dolphins?” asks Conor blankly.

“They are our brethren. They have been one with us since time began. Their sorrows are our sorrows, and their children are our children too. Saldowr knows this.”

Saldowr nods. “But Byblos died on Ervys’s spear,” he says. The Mer look at one another. Nothing they say or do can change that.

“We never thought any of this would lead to shedding dolphin blood!” cries Talek. The other Mer men rumble agreement from their deep chests. “Even our own wives and daughters shun us now, for killing Byblos. They say we have brought evil on the Mer. We have got to atone for the crime, and make peace with the dolphins again. And with you, too,” he adds quickly.

Dad’s death is an afterthought; it’s the dolphins that count. The Mer can’t live without their relationship with the dolphins. Talek is honest, at least.

Another Mer man speaks up, “We must cleanse ourselves of Byblos’ blood.”

“And how are you going to do that?” asks Saldowr. He speaks quietly, but his voice rings around the cave. “Are you asking me to travel back in time and undo what you did? That is impossible. You have torn Ingo apart and that wound cannot be healed with a few words. I told you that you must accept these children, with their human forms and their Mer and human blood, but you refused. You sent the sharks to kill them. You were prepared to do anything rather than let them make the Crossing. You scorned my
scolhyk
because he has human blood in him too, from far back, and because he is part of the healing of Ingo, like these children.”

Saldowr is awe inspiring. I’ve never seen his full authority
before. His eyes flash, and I can hardly bear to look at the sternness of his face. His power fills the cave, and makes Ervys’s followers seem like children. All the Mer men bow their heads.

“But they have made the Crossing,” he goes on more quietly. “They are fully Mer now, and fully human too. You must accept them. You think that you hate them. You are Mer, and it is in your nature to hate change. I don’t judge you for that. I judge you for your following of Ervys, your breaking of the laws that forbid weapons, and your greed for power in Ingo.”

“You could have stopped him, Saldowr,” mutters one of the men, head still down.

“I am not a magician,” says Saldowr, even more quietly. “Ervys was free to choose, as you are free to choose now. Your mistake was to believe that your freedom was my weakness.” Saldowr stretches out his left arm and points to me and Conor. “Look at them. Do you recognise them? Will you accept them? Say nothing unless it is true in your hearts.”

The nine Mer men raise their eyes and stare at us. It’s not a comfortable feeling. Each of them is far stronger than I am, and they’ve only recently stopped wanting to kill us. I know they won’t hurt us while Saldowr is here, but it’s still frightening to be with nine people who are full of hatred for you and who just want you to disappear and never be seen again.

I gather up my courage, and look Talek in the face. He is staring at me intently, but not with quite the expression I expected.

“Saldowr,” he asks, “may I ask her a question?” Saldowr nods.

“Tell me,” says Talek, “how you returned from the bottom of the world.”

“With the dolphins.”

“We saw that you were accompanied by four dolphins when you came to the Lost Islands. But how did you travel before that?”

“We were with the dolphins all the time. They called it a flight of dolphins.” A ripple of sound runs down the line of Mer.

“A dolphin flight,” repeats Talek. “And the dolphins offered that to you freely?” he asks, as if we might have blackmailed the dolphins into it somehow, or bribed them. But this doesn’t seem like the time to take offence.

“Yes.”

“To you, or to Faro and Elvira?”

I think back to Seiliko’s words.
Because you are a friend of Ingo, Sapphire, we have agreed to send you home on a flight of dolphins.
“Seiliko – one of the dolphins – told me my recognition pattern. She said it was ‘friend of Ingo’. That was why they agreed to take us home.”

There is a long silence. I expect Saldowr to break it, but he doesn’t. He has moved back a little in the water, as if to say,
I’m not going to interfere. Whatever happens now is for you to decide.

The Mer are drawing closer to me and Conor. I want to shrink back but I don’t move, and nor does Conor. Their gaze rests on our faces, piercingly concentrated. At long last, one word breaks the silence.

“Chosen,” says Talek quietly.

In a rush like a breaking wave, the rest of the Mer take it up:
“Chosen … chosen … chosen … chosen …”
Nine voices repeat the one word until Saldowr’s cave echoes with it, and then one by one the voices fall silent and the echoes die away.

My heart beats hard. I have a question now, and their answer will be the proof that they truly accept us. “A long time ago,” I say to Talek, “Faro told me that your people had many names. Mer, Meor, Mor, Mare. But he said that there was another name, that only the Mer know, and which they keep secret from all who do not belong to their people.”

Faro starts forward. “I will tell you now, lit … Sapphire. You have earned it.”

But Talek holds up his hand. “No. I shall tell her. It is her right. Do you agree, my brothers?” There’s a deep murmur of agreement. Talek smiles wryly. “It has been our name since time began. Each Mer mother whispers it into her child’s ear, just as the child’s personal name is also whispered into its ear. But to say it aloud now is … sad. We can say it but no longer feel it.” He pauses and looks at the others, as if for support. To my amazement, I’m feeling sorry for him. Whyever can’t the Mer use their name any more?

“We called ourselves
neshevyn lowenna:
the happier kindred.”

Happier than what?
I wonder.
Happier than whom? Happier than human beings, perhaps.

“But as time went on only one word was used:
lowenna.”

Happier. More joyful and more fortunate. It sounds bitterly ironic now, after the blood and betrayals and deaths. I
understand why Talek said the Mer might not use their name any more. We are all silent. The sadness of it creeps through the water like a cold current. Impulsively, I stretch out my hands to Talek and the others.

“Neshevyn lowenna,”
I say carefully.

“Very good,
myrgh kerenza,”
says Saldowr, and with a swirl of his cloak he turns to the entrance again. “Who is darkening the mouth of my cave now, Talek?” he demands. “How many hundreds of your men are waiting out there for you?”

He’s right. The sea worms glow brightly, shedding their green light on the walls; but they only look so bright because the light is fading fast.

“D
ear whale. Dear, dear whale.”

“I came as soon as I could. I was hunting in the Western Ocean, in the trenches of the Deep. One day when I was logging – the hunt had been good, little one, and my belly was full of giant squid – I had word from the gulls that two human creatures had completed the Crossing of Ingo, and that a terrible battle was being fought among the Mer. I knew it was you they were talking about. I set out at once to find you, little barelegs. My heart was full of fear in case you had been hurt.”

“No, I’m not hurt.”

The whale turns her huge, box-shaped head. “Swim closer little one. Swim in front of me so I can see you clearly.” I swim around her jaw, and kick upwards until I’m level with her eyes. There’s a fresh scar on the side of her head.

“A squid caught me with its tentacles. It was a hard battle, but his beak will never stab a whale’s flesh again, nor will his tentacles sear a whale’s skin.”

“Did you eat him?”

“Of course. What greater pleasure is there after a battle than to eat the enemy you have defeated?”

I can’t help smiling. Imagine if we’d tried that with Ervys.

“Why do you smile, little one?” asks the whale eagerly. “Have you thought of a joke?”

“Not really.” Suddenly I realise that in the excitement of seeing the whale, I’ve completely forgotten about her daughter. “Dear whale, you know that I promised I’d search for your daughter at the bottom of the world?”

The whale’s eyes fix on me. Her deep voice trembles with hope, doubt and fear. “You found her?”

“Yes. She’s well, and she has a baby. A calf,” I correct myself quickly.

There’s a long moment of silence, as if the whale hasn’t even heard me. Then I hear the deep, pulsing rumble of her voice: “Little one, little one, rise with me!”

The water swirls as the whale’s vast body powers upwards, dragging me in its slipstream. We tear through branches of oarweed. A shoal of pilchard falls apart like a spun kaleidoscope as we surge through it. In a churn of bubbles the whale’s body breaches, and she blows.