TWENTY-THREE

IN THE MORNING, there was frost on the ground around the hawthorn. Mother Dove felt old, a thousand years old.

Tink began to feed her breakfast to her, spoonful by spoonful. After a few bites, Mother Dove said, “Put it aside.”

“Just three more spoonfuls.”

Mother Dove accepted them. Tink’s nursing had improved. Wonders never ceased. In the midst of everything terrible, they never ceased.

When they emerged from the shed, the questers found that a basket of food had been left for them. There was also a note from Queen Ree.

I am so proud of you for achieving your second goal. Our thoughts are always with you.

The queen is proud of me, Prilla thought, even if I don’t have a talent. Me! And I’m only four days old. She did a handstand. Rani smiled at her. Prilla caught the smile and grinned back.

After breakfast, the questers flew to the lagoon. Rani kept trying to think of a way to get the mermaids’ attention.

You see, the hard truth about Never mermaids is that they’re snobs. If you don’t have a green tail and a siren’s voice, you’re not worth bothering with.

They have no use for fairies, or for most Clumsies, although they like Peter. After all, he’s the Peter, which has snob appeal. And he’s so good at pretending to have a tail that the mermaids can actually see it.

Mermaids always dive when fairies approach. Laughing, they swim to their castle under the sea.

This castle is as delicate as a goldfish skeleton. It lacks walls, and you can see from the dining room clear to the servants’ quarters.

There is one walled room, however, and it is the mermaids’ secret shame. The room holds no water, only air. You see, Never mermaids cannot go on forever without air. Eventually their gills tire. If they prefer not to rise to the surface, they visit the wind room, as they call it.

When the questers reached the lagoon’s beach, they could just barely make out two mermaids sunning on Marooners’ Rock. The two were gossiping in Mermish, a language with thirty-eight vowels and no consonants. When they want to, however, mermaids can understand and speak to fairies and Clumsies.

Vidia said, “Loves, they’ll dive if we go—”

“—to them. But what else can we do?”

Prilla wished she had a talent for mermaids.

“Dear heart, we need a note.”

Rani nodded. A note was a good idea. The mermaids might read a note.

But they had nothing to write on, and nothing to write with.

Vidia said she’d get a note from Ree. “I’ll be back before you—”

“—think.”

“—blink.” She flew off.

Rani said to Prilla, “Let’s try to talk to them anyway.”

They flew out over the lagoon. Rani touched Prilla’s arm, and they stopped just beyond where the mermaids would notice them.

Prilla gasped in astonishment.

Think of flute music. Think of the scent of pine needles. Think of ice-cold lemonade sparkling down your throat. Now you have it—mermaids.

Rani watched a mermaid dribble water on her face. She watched another dive, deep, deep. She watched one laugh as a wave lapped over her head. Oh, to feel a wave!

Prilla watched three mermaids bat a huge bubble about with their heads and their tails. Oh, to fly over and join their game!

She and Rani resumed flying. Rani shouted, “Help! Don’t dive!”

The mermaids dived.

Rani and Prilla headed back to shore.

Prilla said, “They’ll read the note. They probably don’t get letters very often.”

They reached the beach just as Vidia returned with Ree’s note, written on linen in colorfast raspberry ink.

Dear mermaids, please give my fairies a comb, which we need to bring back Never Land’s magic. Many thanks from the queen of the fairies.

They looked for something to weigh down the note. Mermaids love pretty things, so they looked for something pretty. After a few minutes, Prilla spotted a glittery blue rock sticking out of the sand.

The fairies wrapped the note around the rock and tied it with the yellow ribbon Vidia had brought back with her. Then the three of them lightened the package with fairy dust and carried it out to sea with them. When they reached the spot where the mermaids had been playing, they let it go.

They flew back to shore to wait. Rani sat and stared out to sea, thinking of Mother Dove. Vidia paced in the air, thinking of Mother Dove’s feathers.

Prilla began to build a sand castle.

She was at a beach on the mainland. She flew here and there, observing Clumsy children’s sand castle–building techniques.

Back on Never Land, she knew what her castle needed—wet sand. She went down to the ocean’s edge.

“Dear child, if you get your wings wet, you’ll be completely useless.”

Prilla retreated from the water. She knew Vidia was right, but she wished Vidia didn’t have such a talent for making her feel stupid.

Mother Dove’s legs felt all pins and needles. She rose to shift her position, but her legs gave out. She collapsed with a squeak.

Tink didn’t know what to do. She wasn’t strong enough to lift Mother Dove into a more comfortable spot. And she didn’t have any more stories to tell.

But then she thought of her finger harp. She took it out of her skirt pocket. Her fingers wanted to play a dirge, but she forced them to pick out Mother Dove’s favorite tune, “Fairy Dust Melody.”

Mother Dove clung to the thread of music and closed her mind to her broken body and her ruined egg.

Two hours passed, and the mermaids didn’t surface. The questers began to lose hope.

They didn’t know it, but the mermaids weren’t being snobby this time. They simply misunderstood, and one can hardly blame them.

Imagine you’re a mermaid. A wrapped package drops down to you, tied with a ribbon. Which do you focus on? The wrapper? Or what’s inside the wrapper?

It never occurred to the mermaids to examine the wrapper. They untied the ribbon and saw the pretty blue stone. They admired it and passed it from one to another. Then they brought it to their treasure room.

The note wound up on the ocean floor, where a starfish used it as a blanket.

On shore, Prilla said, “Too bad we can’t go down there and make them listen.” She wished she had a shouting-through-water talent.

Prilla’s remark gave Rani an idea.

“Sweethearts, let’s stop wasting—”

“—time. Hush, Vidia. I’m thinking.” Rani considered her idea. Could she do it? Could she make the sacrifice? She tried to think of another way.

More time passed. No mermaids. Rani couldn’t think of another way.

She took out Tink’s dagger and began to weep. She handed the dagger to Vidia. “I’ll dive to the mermaids. I’ll beg them for a comb. Cut off my wings.”