Chapter Twenty-Two

Spindle Island

We waited until nightfall. The rain drizzled to a stop, but the air weighed heavy on my skin. The birds had fled. A storm was coming.

I tucked the bundle of clothes under my arm and climbed on Mam’s back. We swam out from the sheltered inlet into a deafening roar. Waves crashed high around us, wind bellowed, and clouds pressed low. I stared ahead into darkness as we swam and swam, Mam’s body straining forward, my hands aching from clenching the straps.

Finally, darker against the darkness, a brooding shape loomed before us. Land.

We rounded a rocky point. It blocked the wind, and there was a sudden stillness. Mam paused to catch her breath. In an inlet that was little more than a gulp of water, a dozen boats rocked, roped and tamed. A cluster of houses huddled on shore.

“That’s the only town on Spindle Island,” said Mam. “The harbor is too shallow for fancy yachts or a ferry, and the undertow keeps tourists away. Hardly anyone lives here. Those who do keep to themselves.” She nodded in satisfaction. “It’s perfect.”

I swallowed hard. “Which house is it?”

“Not here. I wouldn’t choose a place with so many eyes to see you.” She started swimming again.

Once we passed the harbor, the wind and waves rose with fresh fury. For a long time there weren’t any more houses, only the jagged outlines of trees and rocks. Then we swam around an outcropping. There, on a curve of cliff, a lone house faced into the wind, as bold as an osprey. I stared—it was so different from all the rest!—and suddenly a light blazed out from its heart.

Mam dove. I pressed myself flat against her back as the ocean closed overhead.

We rose far past the house. Mam swam close to shore now, searching the cliff, until she found what she was looking for: a tumble of boulders and what was left of a steep path. Sections had fallen away, leaving strips of sheer rock.

We landed on a flat boulder at the cliff’s base. I helped Mam take off the harness. The wind blew her whiskers back.

“I need to catch my breath,” she said. “You go peek over the top, then come back and tell me what you see.”

“No,” I said, my heart pounding louder than the surf. “I’ll wait for you.”

She shook her head. “Just make sure it’s the right place.”

Her voice was ragged. She was struggling to make her face a smooth mask, pretending everything was all right. So I pretended, too, for her sake.

I climbed up the cliff. Near the top I slowed, carefully lifting my head over the rim.

Past a stretch of lichen-covered rock, past tall grasses hissing in the wind, a small house hunkered down against the coming storm. It tilted sideways, like a shore tree bent by constant winds, struggling with all its might to hang on.

I scrambled back down to Mam. She’d opened the ball of clothing with her teeth and was separating my clothes from hers. I told her what I’d seen.

“Good,” she said. “That’s Maggie’s house. I’ll keep watch while you get dressed.”

I struggled to pull on the sopping clothes, forcing my arms and legs through the clammy fabric. When I finally got them on, it felt like I was coated in mud. I rolled up the cloth legs higher than before, baring my knife. Just in case.

“Take out the doubloons,” said Mam.

“Why?”

“To give to Maggie. People will do anything for gold, and I promised her some. Tell her it’s to help with the costs.”

I pulled my knife from the sheath and scrounged out the doubloons. The knife felt reassuring in my hand. I forced myself to put it back.

“Cover it,” said Mam.

Reluctantly, I rolled the blue legs down. Then I grabbed the soggy clump of Mam’s clothes and held it out to her.

“Your turn,” I said.

But Mam was shaking her head. “I’m sorry, Aran.”

A gust of wind grabbed my name, whipping it away. A few hard pellets of rain struck my skin.

“I was going to come up to the door with you, but . . .” Her voice grew harder. “What if my pelt doesn’t close again? I can’t risk it. This is as far as I can go if I’m to swim to the wise ones.”

I shoved the clothes forward again. “You have to come!”

Mam’s mouth tightened. She swept out a flipper, pushing the clothes—and the harness—off the rocks. They disappeared under the roiling foam.

“I found you a safe place,” she snapped. “You’ll stay here, and you’ll be here when I come back.” She pushed me toward the path, but now her voice turned pleading. “Don’t you see? If I know you’re safe, I can go, and I have to go to help you.”

The pleading was worse than the hardness.

I stared up the cliff face, then back at her, my fear pulsing in my throat.

“Swear it,” said Mam, fierce again, as she held back her tears. “Swear you’ll stay in that house until I return. Even if the Moon brings your pelt first, wait here, or I may never find you again. Swear you won’t let anyone see you besides Maggie. Swear it all by the Moon!”

A blast of wind sent me stumbling to the edge of the rocks. The storm broke with a roar of fury. The waves towered higher, wild with white foam, and then the rain struck—slashing down sideways, ricocheting off rocks, hurling in every direction. In an instant the whole world was water.

“Swear!” shouted Mam over the wind.

“I swear.”

“By the Moon!”

Struggling to stay on my feet, I put my hand to my heart to make the vow. “By the Moon!”