Emma looked around. She was standing on the deck of a ship. It was the Markab, she realized with a sudden burst of relief, the Markab before it had been turned into a baby dragon-of-war. She was sailing with Dad and Herbie, and they were heading through the Golden Gate strait out into the open ocean. It was just like the other times they’d done it, only this time she was filled with the most extraordinary feeling—that everything she had ever wanted to know was just right there, and all she had to do was reach out and grab it. Every question she ever had. Every desire. Every hope. It could all be grasped at the slightest thought.

She tested it. She thought of Dad. What did he look like when he was her age? All at once he appeared before her, a tall boy with jet-black hair and a piercing gaze. He was riding a chestnut-colored Pegasus horse, and there was a mallet in his hand, almost like a polo stick. He met her eyes and she stared at him in wonder, trying to imagine him going to school and doing homework and sailing on the weekends just like she did.

Anything, she thought with giddiness. I can ask for anything!

Her mind wheeled through the possibilities. She could ask about Mom. About how she grew up. About what it was like being a princess, and why she ran away to Eridanus. About being with pirates. About how she met Dad. Quickly, she thought of more pressing concerns: How had they stolen the Pyxis? How had Mom survived the execution? And where was Dad now? It occurred to her that she ought to find out what was going to happen. Was Mom going to die on Gent’s ship? What would happen to Dad? And Emma and Herbie and their friends—what would become of them?

Suddenly, Queen Virgo loomed before her, grandest of all figures. She said sternly, “These waters are dangerous.” But she herself was drinking from them—clear blue memory water. It was making her skin glow. “These waters can kill you,” she warned, water dripping from her mouth. “They spread lies.”

Emma felt a violent swirling clap, as if someone had just yanked her from behind. The picture changed. Now she saw a man leaning over her mother. They were both very young, and her mother looked glamorous in a silky blue gown and a tiara of diamonds, her white-blond hair flowing down to her waist. The man’s eyes were filled with such a look of sweet surrender and weakness and desire. Mom shifted nervously when he leaned over to kiss her.

CLAP!

Another picture. This time a horse was running joyfully toward her. It was Dad’s horse. It had wings, and they were going to fly….

CLAP!

Sitting at the kitchen table, Herbie was laughing so hard that flakes of carrot came flying out of his nose.

CLAP!

A violent maelstrom in a stormy sea. Ships were getting caught in the swirl of water. Voices screaming. Emma gasped. Of course she couldn’t see the future—these were memories! She realized that she was still underwater, without air.

This is how it kills you, she thought wildly. You believe it’s real. And you stay here, fascinated by all the pictures, and you drown.

She forced her eyes open and saw nothing but darkness. She felt Santher beside her. He was struggling with something. With a sudden rip, the canvas split and fell away, dragged down by the rocks. They were in a green and rocky underwater world, near the bottom of the sea. The floor was covered in sand, and great streamers of kelp were swirling about.

She was captivated by the water. It was full of light and motion. Images were flickering everywhere she looked, and sounds came to her ears as if they were spoken there—soft voices, loud shouts, whispers of the living and the dead. She could see these visions, hundreds of them moving through the waters all around her, and she was filled again with the feeling that everything she had ever wondered about or wanted to know was right there at her fingertips—all she had to do was reach.

No, she thought viciously. I have to get out! She gave a swift kick, desperately pushing herself back toward the surface, but her head hit something hard. It was Santher’s foot. He was falling on top of her. He must have tried to swim to the surface and gotten swept away by the memories.

She grabbed him, feeling a desperate burning in her throat and lungs. She needed air. The memories were coming back for her too. She could see them swirling closer, a great dance of ghostly forms. She saw her parents clearly. They were standing on a platform above her, beckoning her, waving. She wanted desperately to go to them, but she knew they weren’t real.

She might have been able to make it to the surface on her own, but with Santher in her arms it was hopeless. She looked back at her parents. Perhaps they were real….

Just in front of them, her eyes fell on a small black stone. She dropped Santher and reached for it. It was vostok! Knowing she only had seconds left, she cracked it open and squished half of the jelly into Santher’s mouth. She tried to squish the other half into her own, but when she pressed it between her lips, water came pouring into her mouth and she panicked, choking, inhaling a great lungful of liquid….