The Tide Knot (15 page)

  “I’m not sure, Conor, I—Yes. Maybe.”

  “But that’s not what matters now. What matters is that Dad needs us. He’s not free. He can’t do what he wants.

  He’s trapped, like you said, and he can’t come home. He’s like a prisoner.”

  I am more and more amazed. I thought Conor would rage against Dad for going into Ingo, for leaving us, for letting his human self weaken and his Mer self grow strong. I was sure that Conor would blame Dad.

  “A prisoner,” Conor repeats. “He’s a prisoner in Ingo, and he’s a prisoner inside a body that isn’t his anymore.”

  “But maybe he wants to be there.”

  “Saph, don’t you understand? If Dad doesn’t have a free choice, then how can anybody know what he wants?” Suddenly I think of something. “Conor, listen.
We’ve
only been able to go into Ingo since Dad was there, haven’t we?

  Maybe there’s a connection.”

  “Or a reason.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Dad can’t leave Ingo, but we can enter it. Think about it, Saph. We’ve got the power to go to Ingo, where Dad is. We mustn’t waste it.”

  “Do you mean we could sort of…visit him there?” Conor laughs. “You mean like access visits when parents get divorced?
It’s my dad’s turn to see us this weekend,
only unfortunately he lives under the sea.
No, Saph, I don’t mean visiting Dad. I mean giving him the choice to leave Ingo.”

  “Rescuing him?”

  “Finding out how he can gain his freedom. We know that human beings can go to Ingo and become Mer. It happened to the first Mathew Trewhel a, and now it’s happened to Dad. It might have happened to other people. But I don’t believe that all the transformations go in one direction.

  Haven’t any of the Mer ever tried to live in the human world?

  Even if only out of curiosity?”

  “There’s a story about that. I think there was a mermaid who came up on land and her tail got cut to pieces on the stones.”

  “That’s just a fairy story. Why shouldn’t someone be able to leave Ingo even if it means that his body has to transform? We know that Faro and Elvira can stay in the Air for a while. One of the Mer might have done it for longer, even permanently. If there is a way, we’ve got to find it.

  We’ve
got
to find it, Saph. Dad isn’t completely Mer yet; he can’t be. He’s still partly human. Once we’ve found the way, Dad
has
got a choice.”

  Excitement is starting to burn in me at Conor’s words. If Conor is right, and Dad hasn’t chosen to leave us permanently, then it’s still possible that everything can be reversed. But I’m not quite as hopeful as Conor. Maybe it’s because I feel the pulls of Ingo so strongly myself. If I had to choose between spending the rest of my life in St. Pirans, among streets and houses and traffic and crowds, and living in Ingo, it would not be so easy to decide. But if Dad comes home, we’ll return to the cottage. The cottage, the cove, all our old free life will open up again as if it’d never been interrupted.

  But even as these happy thoughts float through my mind, there’s also a trace of doubt. Gloria Fortune will have to leave. Mum will have to change back into the person she was—the one who loved Dad and had never met Roger.

  Roger will have to disappear, and somehow I can’t see Roger agreeing to do so without a fight.

  But I won’t think of all that now. All we need to think about is rescuing Dad.  

  We make plans until three o’clock in the morning. Conor’s convinced that we need to go to Ingo together, as soon as we possibly can. He insists that we go together, although I have to point out that he’s going to find it hard with only me to rely on. Conor cannot take in enough oxygen underwater to swim independently. There is too much of Earth and Air in him, I think, although I don’t say that.

  “It’s a long time since the summer. We’ll both have grown stronger,” Conor says. “I might be fine in Ingo now.” But I am sure Conor has grown farther away from Ingo over the months since we left Senara. My Mer blood is certainly stronger, but I daren’t rely on it to keep us both alive. What if we’re deep in Ingo, a hundred meters below the surface, and my strength fails until it’s only enough for me but not for Conor?

  I’ve seen before that this can happen. I watched the life and color drain from Conor’s face. And we were in relatively shallow water then. We were doubly lucky because Faro was at hand to rescue us, but next time he may not be, unless—

  “Faro should come with us, Conor.”  

  “I don’t want him. This is family business. It’s private.”

  “But Conor, how can we do this on our own? We don’t even know how to begin to look for Dad. Ingo is so vast. We could search for years and not find him. We haven’t got a map. The Mer don’t even
have
maps. Or—or if you don’t want Faro, then maybe Elvira would help us?” I glance slyly at Conor’s face to see how he reacts to Elvira’s name. I think his color deepens. It’s hard to tell  with Conor because his skin is so brown.

  “She wouldn’t come,” he says quickly.

  “Then I’ll call for Faro. I daren’t go into Ingo with you unless Faro is there. I’m not strong enough.” Conor seems to be on the point of agreeing when another brilliant idea strikes me. Saldowr. Faro’s teacher. If he’s so wise, if he knows so much, then he is the person to ask. Maybe that is why Saldowr wanted to meet me. Faro said he did. Perhaps Saldowr knows that I’m searching for Dad. Perhaps he wants to tell  us something.

  My thoughts race on, pulsing with excitement.
We’ll find
Saldowr, and he’ll be ancient and white-haired and wise,
like a wizard in a children’s book. He’ll be very tall, with a
flowing beard. He’ll stare down at us in an all-knowing and
ancient way and say very solemnly, “I am glad you came
to me, my children. Your quest is over.” And he’ll raise his
arms and his robes will spread wide, and then he’ll unveil
the mystery—
 

  “Saph! Wake up!”  

  “Wasn’ sleep…”

  “You were. Your eyes were completely shut. Did you hear what I just said?”

  “Something ’bout a wiz—No.”

  “Listen, Saph. This is important. How much do you trust Faro?”

  Faro calls me his little sister. Faro and I can see into each other’s minds and discover the memories and images there. How much do I trust Faro? I think of his eyes sparkling with glee as he outwits me and his dark, passionate anger against what humans do to Ingo. “Quite a lot,” I say cautiously.

  “Enough to tell  him about Dad?”

  Perhaps Faro already knows where Dad is. He surfs the currents all over Ingo, and I’m sure there are many things he knows that he has never told me because of my human blood. I wonder whether or not Faro would be capable of concealing from me what had happened to my own father.

  “I think so,” I say to Conor now.

  Conor continues to plan aloud. He’s fired up now, and I know he won’t rest until he’s organized exactly what we’re going to do.

  Tomorrow’s a school day, and there is no way that Mum will let me miss school again. By the time I reach home, there’ll be only an hour or so left before dusk. Conor won’t consider going to Ingo in the dark, even though I try to persuade him that it’s not too hard to find your way, especial y if there’s a moon.

  “It’s too dangerous, Saph. We won’t know where we are.” After this I tell  Conor about Saldowr and my idea that Faro’s teacher might help us. Conor is not as interested in Saldowr as I expected.

  “He won’t tell  us anything the Mer don’t want us to know.

  We’ve got to be more subtle than that. Faro’s our best chance.”  

  It’s all decided. On Saturday Conor will tell  Mum we’re going out together for the day and maybe meeting up with some of the others. But without Sadie. What’s a good reason for us not taking Sadie? Simple. We don’t want her to get exhausted when she’s only just recovered from her ill ness.

  I’d prefer to add some convincing detail to this story, but as usual, Conor is scrupulous about keeping as close to the truth as he can. We are going out for the day, that’s true. We may meet some of “the others” if things go according to plan; that isn’t a lie either. And so Conor is satisfied. No need to specify what kind of “others” we hope to meet.

  We’re going to walk along the coast, past the Morvah rocks. There are some sheltered little pebble inlets beyond the rocks. Most of the walkers go the other way, fol owing the coast path up where it swerves inland. The inlets can’t be seen from the coast path or from the town. Sometimes people come to watch seals, but if we’re lucky, the place should be deserted on a November morning. Conor thinks we can get into Ingo there. It’s far enough from St. Pirans, and it’s outside the shelter of the bay. The Mer should feel safe to come, as safe as they ever are within sight of land.

  “So we’ll just call for Faro?” It all sounds so vague and unlikely to succeed. Up at Senara, at our cove, I could easily slip through the skin of the water and into Ingo. Ingo was all around us there, its magnetism drawing me even when I didn’t want to be drawn. But imagine standing by the water on an ordinary Saturday morning, calling and calling in broad daylight as if I were calling for my dog, but hearing no answer except the mocking surge of the waves and the screams of gulls. Or stepping into the water but feeling nothing except the cold around my ankles. I’d be like a kid paddling out of season.

  “Conor, I still think we’d have more chance of entering Ingo in darkness, from Polquidden.”

  “It’s too risky. If we
have
to go in darkness, then we will , but we’ll try this first. I’d even rather do what you did and go up to Senara than try to search for Dad at night here. But you’ve got to believe Faro will come, Saph. You remember how you called him when we were in danger last summer, and he came? There was something in your voice then. I was feeling so terrible by then that I couldn’t even see, but I could still hear you. You had power in your voice. And Faro came, didn’t he? If you call like that, he’ll come, Saph.

  Believe me, you can do it. Dad’s depending on us.” After Conor’s gone off to bed, I lie awake for a long time. I keep reminding myself how tired I’m going to be the next day, but still I can’t sleep. I wish I could be as sure and certain as Conor about what has happened to Dad. It sounds so logical. Dad is in Ingo and cannot leave, and therefore Dad is in Ingo against his will . By Conor’s logic, that means Dad is like a prisoner, waiting for rescue.

  If I believed this as confidently as Conor, the problems would melt away. All we would need to do is find a way to release Dad. It might be difficult or dangerous, but it would be like a journey where you know your destination.

  But I’m not as sure as Conor. I don’t really know where my journey will end. I’ve seen Dad with my own eyes, but that has only made his disappearance more mysterious.

  I turn over and beat the pillow into shape again. I have to get some sleep, and I never will if I keep on like this. I’m going to need all my strength for what lies ahead.
Stop
thinking, Sapphire. Conor is certain enough for both of us.
 

 
“Y
ou ready, Saph?”

  “Yes.” I bite my lip. It’s a lie. I’m not ready at all . Carrying the heavy weight of responsibility for my brother’s life—no, I’ll never be truly ready for that.

  There are rocks behind us. Two curving arms of rock protect us from view, on the left and the right. Ahead of us is the open sea. The water is calm today. “Too calm,” Conor says. In November that silky blue surface can’t be trusted.

  The barometer’s falling, and bad weather is on its way.

  “Will there be a storm, Conor?”

  “Maybe. There’ll be a blow at least.”

  “Could the bad weather get here while we’re in Ingo?”

  “If time were exactly the same in Ingo as it is here, I’d say we should be back safely before the weather turns, but you know it doesn’t work like that.”

  “I really hope there won’t be a storm.”

  When the gales blow, waves sweep right over these rocks where we’re standing. The sea boils and rages. We’d never be able to climb out of the water without being smashed against the rocks. I glance nervously at the horizon. Cloudy strands of mare’s tail streak the blue. Those clouds mean the weather’s about to break. Conor’s right.

  “Let’s get going, Saph. We might not have much time.” We’re both speaking quietly, even though no one else is around and we’re hidden from view. But Ingo has ears everywhere. A gul swooping through the air or a seal lolloping up onto a rock could hear us and send on the message that we’re coming to Ingo to search for our father.

  Would it matter? I don’t know. But if Conor is right, and Dad is somehow trapped in Ingo, then we need to keep our journey secret.
If
Conor’s right…

  The water shelves down sharply here. Once we’ve waded in a few steps, it will be over our heads. Ingo is almost within touching distance.

  “Saph, get on with it!”

  Conor thinks I should call Faro now. He is sure Faro will come for me. I stare at the water, watching, listening. I can’t tell  what’s going to happen. Is Ingo going to open for us, or will we have to go home disappointed, our clothes soaked through for nothing?

  Suddenly a shiver of excitement runs through me. Faro’s close. I’m sure of it. The part of myself that is at home in Ingo is starting to wake. Senses that I don’t possess in my daily life are stirring. Somewhere beneath the surface of the water, somewhere beneath the surface of my mind, Faro makes his presence felt. It’s like a very soft knock on the door of my understanding. A greeting.  

 
Here I am, little sister. Come and find me!
 

  I scan the rocks, the water. Nothing. No smooth dark head breaks the surface. I swing round, half expecting to see Faro perched on a rock, watching us with that familiar half-mocking smile. He isn’t there, and yet he is. I grab Conor’s arm. “Faro’s here somewhere, Conor. He’s close.” But Conor is peering round the side of the rocks. “Saph, quick, there’s a man up on the path with fishing tackle. He’s coming this way.”