The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept. Helen Dunmore
in a voice that sounds as if he’s secretly laughing at me inside himself. “Just on the edge of it, maybe.”
“Ingo,” I repeat, tasting the sound of it in my mouth. “I’m in Ingo.”
“Those – those divers – they bring Air with them, so they can go down where they shouldn’t come. They poke around where they shouldn’t be,” goes on Faro. “Exploring, they call it. Spying, we call it. Trying to get into Ingo without going through the skin. Luckily they don’t see much. They don’t enter Ingo at all.”
“But they dive down here, don’t they? How can you say they don’t enter Ingo?”
Faro shrugs. “A stone drops into the water. That doesn’t mean that the stone is swimming. Divers come into the water, but that doesn’t mean they’re in Ingo. So, you saw the shark first, did you? Look around, Sapphire, and tell me what else you’ve noticed,” he challenges.
I peer through the water.
“Well, rocks – over there, look, sharp ones. I wouldn’t want to go near them. And there’s a fish! Just going out of sight, look, it’s a really big one.”
“Huge,” Faro agrees. “It must be at least as big as this,” and he puts his hands a few centimetres apart. “What else have you noticed?”
“Um – is that a current over there? And I think I saw something scuttling down on the sea bed just now – but it’s so far down, it’s hard to tell—”
“Anything else?”
“I noticed that shark, anyway. And you didn’t.”
“All right. My turn.” A rush of sound pours out of Faro’s mouth.
“Faro, I can’t understand—”
“I know you can’t. I’m not talking to you. I’m asking everyone who is here to come out where you can see them.”
The sea around us begins to thicken. Two grey seals slide by, twisting as they go. They turn to circle us, almost touching us. They have big eyes like retriever dogs, and they look as if they’re laughing. Their nostrils are closed tight and their whiskers are flattened against their muzzles. But how strong they are, how powerful. Their muscles ripple under their skin as they go by. A dazzling cloud of silver fish flickers in and out of my fingers. I shut my hand but they vanish between my · fingers like droplets of mercury.
I look to my left and there’s a huge flatfish, as big as our kitchen table, with one popeye goggling at me. One after another a raft of purple jellyfish floats past, tentacles drifting, their jelly skirts bellying in and out, in and out…
“So that’s how they move,” I whisper. Their tentacles are thick and snaky and have suckers all the way down – what if one of them whipped across my leg? They look as if they would sting. I scull backwards, out of range. The jellyfish sail on in a line, like battleships now, making for war.
“Look down there,” says Faro, and a giant spider crab appears out of a whirl of sand, and then another. Conor hates spider crabs. I can always frighten him by picking up a dead one on the shore and chasing after him with it, flapping its claws. But I wouldn’t touch one of these.
The sand settles and shows an angler fish, almost buried but for the shine of her lure. Dad caught one once when he was deep-sea fishing, and showed it to me. “It lives far out, on the sea bottom. They’re adapted to the dark. Just as well, poor creature, it’s ugly as sin. It wouldn’t want to see itself in the light.”
“Look up,” says Faro, and I see a soup of plankton shimmering in the light from the surface. And right above us there’s another shark, much smaller but the same shape as the other little-feeder. A shoal of tiny grey fish darts to the side, away from the sieving jaws. And that rock there – it’s covered with dog whelks, thickly striped. More fish flick past – and here’s a herd of sea horses riding the curve of Faro’s tail—
“It’s not fair. You made them come. All these creatures weren’t here when I was looking.”
“Not fair,” echoes Faro mockingly. “This isn’t a game we’re playing, Sapphire. All these creatures were here all the time. You weren’t looking, that’s all.” More of the liquid language pours from his mouth. Pure Mer, it must be. I wish I could speak that language. The seals nuzzle him and I think they’re speaking it too, but I can’t understand a word. Tail to tail, Faro and the seals look the same, sleek and shining and strong, with the herd of sea horses dancing around them…
I have a sudden fear that Faro’s going to disappear with them, leaving me alone, way out in the ocean, not knowing my way back—
“Faro, I think we should go back now.”
“Go back?”
“I’ve got to go home. It’s late.”
“Without Conor?”
Faro’s face is teasing. Suddenly I have the feeling that he knows something else I don’t. That Conor is close, like the seals and the jellyfish and the spider crabs. That if I looked in the right place, I would see him. Now.
I turn. Something flickers, nearly out of sight. I turn again, trying to catch whatever’s hiding. Come out, come out, wherever you are! Faro turns too, as if he knows exactly where to look. He stares deep into the water. He’s watching for something I can’t see. I think he’s going to call again, and I can’t guess what or who might come this time. But he doesn’t call.
“What a pity,” he says softly, after a while. “We’ve just missed them.”
“Who?”
“Conor and Elvira, of course. They were here, but they’ve gone.”
“Did Conor see me?” I feel as if Faro’s punched me. Conor was here. He was so close that Faro saw him, and he disappeared again, without me. Conor didn’t let me see him. Conor didn’t try to find me. He didn’t even call to me. But Conor’s my brother.
“He was with the seals. He missed you,” says Faro.
Conor was with the seals. Maybe Conor understands the language that was just sound to me.
“Does Conor speak pure Mer?”
Faro shakes his head.” No. Not yet. Nowhere near to it. He’s only just beginning. He’s like you, Sapphire, he doesn’t know anything.”
I turn away. I don’t want Faro to see how I feel. I don’t even know how I feel. Faro says that Conor doesn’t know anything, but I don’t believe it. If Conor’s gone this deep, if he can swim with seals and plans to surf to the Lost Islands with Elvira, then he’s gone far away from me already. He’s learned too much that I don’t know. And the worst part is that he’s done it all secretly, without telling me or wanting to share it with me.
Conor and I have always been together. We’ve always done the same things. Conor’s a better diver than me, and he can swim faster, but he waits for me. He used to get impatient sometimes when I was little and I couldn’t keep up with him. Sometimes I’d cry and yell after him, Conor, Conor! Wait for me!
And he’d come back and find me all covered in tears and he’d take my hand and we’d be friends again.
But that was a long time ago. Dad’s gone, and Mum’s working all the time. If she works a late shift, we sometimes don’t see her from after breakfast to the next morning. Conor and me have only got each other. That’s why we always look after each other.
But he hasn’t waited for me this time.
No, Conor wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t go away without even speaking to me. Faro’s lying.
But Conor didn’t tell me about meeting the Mer, did he? He kept it secret until I saw him with Elvira. And what about Elvira? Where’s she taking him? Conor’s going in too deep –