The Deep. Helen Dunmore
did you get through so easily?”
Faro shrugs. “We’re used to it. Our bodies know their way through rock passages. As long as you don’t think about it, you’ll always get through.”
The tunnel’s opening up like a flower from a stalk. In the distance there’s a murmuring ripple of sound. Faro takes my hand.
“Wait, Sapphire.”
We float, listening. The light is even stronger now, and I see that the sides of the tunnel aren’t black at all. They are a deep, rich ruby red. It looks as if the tunnel is carved out of a huge jewel. Faro’s face glows with reflected light.
“We’re close to the Assembly chamber,” he whispers. “Listen. You can hear my people.”
So the murmuring ripple isn’t the far-off noise of the sea. It’s the sound of Faro’s people, gathered together.
“How many are there?”
“Hundreds. Maybe thousands. Listen to the echo. You can tell that the chamber is full.”
“What are they doing?”
“Waiting.”
“What for?”
“For us, of course. Or strictly speaking, my dear little sister, for you.”
I stare at Faro in horror. “You’re joking.”
“They’ve been travelling for days to get to this Assembly.”
“How do you know? Morlader only just came to – to fetch us.”
“I know the ways of my people,” says Faro proudly.
For a second I even wish that I was back in the tunnel again, talking to the worms. I try to imagine stepping out in front of hundreds – maybe thousands – of Mer. How disappointed they’ll be when they see that I’m just an ordinary girl, with no special powers at all.
“They’ve got it wrong, Faro. They can’t be waiting for me. Let’s go back—”
“What? Back through that tunnel? You’ve got to be joking. Even for me it was a close thing.”
“Were you scared, Faro?”
“Me? Scared?” His eyes glitter indignantly. “I was – extended, my dear Sapphire.”
“So was I. Very extended indeed.”
The murmur of voices seems louder now. I try to imagine what they look like, all those hundreds and thousands of Mer gathered together. Suddenly I’m curious as well as nervous. I’ve always wanted to meet the Mer face to face. Faro’s people. Maybe my people, too, in a way.
“Will my father be there?” I ask abruptly.
“No.”
“Why not? He’s Mer now, isn’t he?”
“He’s still recovering.”
“Recovering! You didn’t tell me he was ill.”
“You knew that he was hurt when the Tide Knot broke. His body felt the anger of the tides.”
“But I thought he’d be all right by now – I didn’t know it was serious. Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong with Dad?”
Faro touches his right arm, just above the wrist. “The bone was broken here. He had broken ribs too, and cuts and bruises all over his body where he was hurled against a rock. My sister’s teacher has been healing him. She is a great healer.”
“Oh.”
I feel sick at the thought of Dad being hurled against a rock. I know what it’s like when a current seizes hold of you. It must have been terrible to be caught in the full force of the escaped tides. I knew Dad was hurt because he didn’t come back to help us in the flood, but I didn’t realise how bad it was.
“And his mind is heavy,” goes on Faro quietly, as if he’s confiding a secret.
My father is trist, I think. My father is kommolek. The words are like shadows on my heart.
“Yes,” says Faro, reading them, “you are right, little sister. His mind troubles him more than his body.”
I wish I could reach Dad with my mind. I wish I could say to him, Hold on. We haven’t forgotten you. Conor and I will do anything to get you home.
But Dad can’t hear me.
I listen again to the murmur of voices.
“What about Mellina? Will she be there?”
“She may be. I don’t know.”
If she is, I’ll see Mellina face to face at last. The Mer woman whom my father loves. The woman who enchanted him away from our home, away from Mum and Conor and me and everything in the human world.
I wish I was away in Ingo…
Mellina sang that to Dad, and he believed it. He wished for Ingo, and his wish came true. When I saw Mellina’s face in Saldowr’s mirror she looked young and soft and gentle. But I’m not going to be tricked by her. I’m going to find out the truth, and tell Mellina that she’s got to let go of Dad, and allow him to come home.
“All right, Faro. Let’s go in.”
We swim to the edge of a thin screen of rock. I tread water to steady myself. Warily, keeping my body in hiding, I peer around the side.
It’s a vast underwater cavern, as big as a cathedral. The walls curve inwards and they’re carved into tier after tier, like rows of seats in a theatre. I wonder if the sea gouged out those tiers, or if the Mer carved them.
And there are the Mer. Hundreds of them, as Faro said. Maybe thousands. They are as real and solid as a football crowd, and as strange as a dream. Their tails glisten. Their long hair streams in the water, half veiling their bodies. Some are wearing shining cloaks of net and pearl, others bodices of woven seaweed.
The source of the light is above us. The light of the open sea filters down to the heart of the underwater mountains. For a second I think of the sun and its light, then I lose my grip on the thought. The human world feels as distant as China or Paraguay.
I stare around the chamber in wonder. The far wall shimmers with phosphorescence. The skin of the Mer glows too. There’s a tinge of blue in their skin that isn’t like any colour I’ve seen in a human. The same blue sheen ripples over their tails. I’ve never noticed that colour in Faro’s body. Maybe the light of the cave changes everything. They look so foreign, and so beautiful.
“My people,” says Faro, with such pride in his voice that I turn to look at him. His shoulders are braced, his hands are clenched into fists, and his face is stern.
“My people,” he repeats, “and I will give my life to defend them. You are the only human who has ever seen such an Assembly.”
“I’m honoured,” I answer quietly.
Faro’s face flashes into a smile, then he says urgently, “Sapphire, promise me that you’ll listen to them. Even if – even if what they ask sounds impossible.”
“I promise, Faro.”
We swim slowly forward, out of our concealment. First one head turns, and then another. A ripple of sound flows through the chamber.
So many pairs of eyes, fixed on me and Faro. So many faces scanning us, taking in every detail. It’s like being on stage, except that I don’t know the play, or what my part is.
Now everything’s still again. The water in the chamber is as clear as glass. There’s nowhere to hide, even if I wanted to hide. But I don’t. I swim forward. At long last I’m here, in the company of the Mer.
They stare at us, waiting. The atmosphere is tense with expectation. What are we supposed