CHAPTER 19

The Shell Altar

Fin rubbed at the welt where the limp tattoo-spine had slapped across his shoulders. He couldn’t help staring at the undulating lines of ropy ink stretching up the back of Coll’s neck and down to his palms. If it weren’t for Marrill and Ardent, he’d be carrying one of those now. He’d be cursed to never have a home, never settle.

Not that it would be much of an adjustment. Though not having a home had to be better than living in a pen, he reminded himself. He shook his head, pushing away the thought.

“You okay?” Marrill asked, stepping over to inspect the welt. Fig peered out from behind her shoulder carefully, her eyes echoing the concern.

He nodded to them both. “No trub,” he said. Then he frowned, glancing between Coll’s tattoo and the coiled drawings shifting menacingly along the walls, their thin spines poised to pounce. “Think that’s the ink we’re looking for?”

Ardent shrugged. “Of a kind. They’re drawn from it, certainly. But we need to find a source that’s a bit less… malignant.” He reached the end of the hallway and paused in front of a massive circular door. “Ah, here we are.”

As the wizard stepped forward, the door didn’t open so much as uncurl. Inside, a huge round chamber waited. Here, the ropy architecture took the form of thick columns, side by side against one another, rising into the distance. Rivers of Stream water threaded in and out through nearly invisible gaps, like golden rings on fat fingers, hundreds of them, as far up as Fin could see.

The room itself, though, was empty. No sailors, no Sheshefesh, nothing. Only a strange curved altar, no higher than Fin’s waist, waiting silently in the middle of it all. Its surface was smooth, its top curved nearly to a point, like a hawk’s beak. The edges looked sharp as an oyster shell.

“We’re here,” Coll said somberly. He stepped forward and bowed down before the altar, respectfully. “Hail, great Sheshefesh. Hail to the Knot that ties together the thousand paths.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the altar split down the center and yawned open. A great voice boomed through the chamber.

“None who come here leave forever. And yet, you return to me so soon. Have you sailed your fill for a second lifetime?”

The altar closed with a snap around the final word. Fin wondered how small the Sheshefesh must be to fit inside it without them seeing even a hint of its body. But at the same time, its voice made the very air around them tremble. It didn’t make sense.

Fig clearly had the same thought. “Down below,” she breathed, just barely audible. “There’s another chamber. Got to be.”

Coll rose and took a deep breath before addressing the Sheshefesh. “Not even close,” he told the creature. “I didn’t come because I want to stay.”

“And yet, here you are. With the cursed wizard who tried to take from me and leave nothing behind. Wizard, wizard, why do you trouble me so? Did I not lend you my finest captain?”

Coll glanced at Ardent. The old man reached out and gripped the younger—well, seemingly younger—man’s arm, a gesture of support and friendship. “You did. The finest and best captain the Stream has ever known, without doubt.”

“Speak, then. I listen.”

Ardent clasped his hands behind his back. “Your fingers trail in every current; you are no doubt aware the Stream faces grave danger.”

“Many currents have drained dry,” the Sheshefesh answered. “Many threads have been severed.” The altar in the center of the room closed and then opened again.

Fin caught Fig’s eye. She nodded. They were definitely having the same thought: There had to be another room below this one. A hidden chamber, with only one way in: by crawling through the sharp-edged, snapping shell of the altar. If there was something here worth protecting—say, a supply of magic ink, fit to fix the Map to Everywhere—that would be the place to keep it.

Fin licked his lips. He could feel a heist coming on.

“Is that why you’ve come to me, sailor?” the Sheshefesh continued. “Do you seek sanctuary? Safe harbor, against the blowing storm?”

Coll ground his teeth. “We’re here to seek your help. That and nothing more.”

The walls around them shifted slightly. “You’ve already received my blessing. What more can I offer? What aid can I give that your wizard cannot?”

Ardent cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We come in search of something you have.”

The very floor seemed to ripple beneath their feet. A deep bass hum filled the chamber as though the building itself responded to the Sheshefesh’s mood.

“So you’ve returned at last for the Compass Rose,” the voice boomed.

Fin arched an eyebrow. Rose? That didn’t make any sense. They’d last seen Rose in the grips of the Master of the Iron Ship, back at Margaham’s Game. What would she now be doing here?

Ardent, too, popped up one long, owl-haired eyebrow. “The Compass Rose?”

The floor rumbled once again. Fin was beginning to think it was the sound of the Sheshefesh’s laughter. If the horrible sound could be considered laughter. It was more like an evil cackle.

“Yes, wizard. Years ago you came to me for a captain to help you find it, and yet I held the Compass Rose all along.”

Ardent stumbled back a step. “Rose was here when I came before? How?”

“Entrusted to me here, where all paths come together, by the Dawn Wizard, last of the Dzane. For even he was subject to the rules of this place. None leave—”

“But leave something precious entangled,” Ardent finished. He dropped his chin to his chest and exhaled, slowly. “Except for me.”

“Except for you!” The Sheshefesh sounded almost giddy. “Oh, the arrogance! Did you truly think you could break the rules that bind this place? Did you think they applied to all but you alone? No. You simply did not realize what you left entangled—your hope of finding the very thing you were seeking.”

Fin gave Marrill a questioning look, but she was already tugging on Ardent’s sleeve, face scrunched in confusion. “What’s he talking about?” she whispered.

Ardent sighed. “Long before I lost Annalessa, I came here on a quest for the Map,” he explained. “Of course, I never found it then. And apparently one of the pieces was right under my nose.” He closed his eyes. “Oh, how did I miss that?”

Marrill gripped the old man’s hand in a show of comfort. But Fin wasn’t sure why it should matter that Ardent failed to get Rose so many years ago. After all, eventually he’d gotten ahold of all the pieces of the Map.

Fig tapped him on the shoulder, motioning with her head. With everyone distracted, it was the perfect moment to make their move.

As the shell snapped open, the chamber filling with the Sheshefesh’s gloating, Fin began to creep toward the altar while Fig circled it from the other side.

“You failed in your quest then,” the Sheshefesh continued. “And another came and took the Compass Rose from me. A wizard who understood the rules of this place. She took my Compass Rose, but left a piece of herself in return.”

Fin’s footsteps faltered. She?

Ardent’s entire demeanor suddenly changed. He was sharper edged, his body tense as though ready for a fight. “Annalessa?” he asked evenly.

The chamber trembled with the low roll of the Sheshefesh’s laugh.

“I warn you, creature, do not toy with me,” Ardent said, his voice as cold and hard as metal. “Recall what happened at my last visit.”

Fin swallowed, trying to focus on the task before him. Maybe Annalessa had been here. Maybe she’d been the one to take the Compass Rose. It was ancient history as far as he was concerned. While Ardent was jousting with the Sheshefesh, the void was out there, eating worlds. Growing.

He kept his eyes on the spongy floor, watching his step as he tiptoed closer to the altar. Across from him, Fig mirrored the movements.

“What is it you would have me recall, wizard? How you seared your way into my chamber? How you burned my flesh until I agreed to release one sailor? A sailor who had already sailed his days and was by all rights bound to me for eternity?”

At the edge of Fin’s awareness, he heard Remy gasp. He dared a glance back, in time to see her spinning on Coll. The captain’s dark eyes were downcast, looking almost beaten.

“You were already here!” Remy accused. “You had already become one of them!”

“Who speaks?” the Sheshefesh boomed. The floor trembled with the power of it. Fin, one leg outstretched in a footpad’s step, was thrown off balance. He fell, but caught himself in the way all Quay kids knew, using the momentum to roll behind the altar. Landing on his back, the tip of his head just rested against the hard, shell-like surface of the altar.

For the first time, his bare hands touched the floor. It felt strange—tough and rubbery, cool but trembling. He glanced back to see if Marrill had noticed what he was up to yet. Thankfully she was completely focused on the brewing argument.

“Remy, shh!” Coll hissed. But his eyes were squeezed shut. Even from behind the altar, Fin thought he saw tears forming in the corners of them. “Yes, for over a century I was here,” the sailor gasped. “At first, it feels good to settle. But then you remember the sea, the Stream. You feel the wanderlust. But you can’t leave. You’re stuck here forever. The stories… the stories are all you have.”

“And if I give you what you ask, wizard, for the second time?” the Sheshefesh spoke. “What will I keep in return? None leave but leave something precious. That is my rule, and it cannot be broken. What will you leave entangled in the Knot of the Coiled Rope?”

“You say I left my hope of finding what I was seeking when I came here before, and yet eventually I found the Compass Rose and assembled the Map. So you see, I left nothing behind then, and I’ll leave nothing now,” Ardent growled. “Annalessa left you something, and I would have it!”

The altar heaved open once more. A great, bitter wind blew out over Fin. It smelled of waterlogged ropes and pungent, acidic funk, and something very, very fishy.

“You have asked me for the wrong object in the past,” the Sheshefesh boomed. “Is it your intent to make the same mistake again, wizard?”

“I did not come to bargain, but to demand!” Ardent stomped a foot against the ground with a force that caused the floor to tremble. A low howl of pain rumbled through the chamber. “You will give me all that I ask! What did Annalessa leave?”

“Ardent, this isn’t what we’re here for!” Marrill begged. “The ink—”

“Who speaks?” the Sheshefesh demanded again. “Who dares address me without right or power?”

“I have power enough for all!” Ardent bellowed. “You know well the power of a wizard in this of all places!” He threw up his arms. The hairs on Fin’s head threatened to stand and run down his back. Overhead, the rivers ran more turbulently; the sound of splashing echoed from all around. The air was heavy with magic.

Things were escalating, fast. There wasn’t much time to grab the ink and get out. Across the altar, Fig waved him on. She, at least, was focused on the real job: thieving.

“Great Sheshefesh,” Coll cried reverently, “the fate of the Stream is at stake and what Ardent means is—”

“Silence, sailor!”

Fin seized the moment, popping his head over the altar just as it opened. No fish, no creature waited inside, no treasure room, no ink. Below him, a sticky, fleshy tunnel yawned. Oyster-shell hooks lined mucous-covered muscle, undulating downward as far as he could see.

It was one giant creature, he realized. It was all one giant creature.

He was looking down the throat of the Sheshefesh.

A second later, Fig shoved him, pushing him aside just as the oyster shells snapped shut, nearly taking his head off. “Watch out,” she hissed.

“Another speaks again!” the Sheshefesh thundered.

Fin could feel it trembling with rage. Out of the corner of his eye, Marrill desperately waved for him to return to the group.

But Fin was focused on one thing: the blackness of the mucous he’d seen dripping down the creature’s throat. It was the exact same color as Coll’s tattoo and the drawings slithering across the rest of the walls of this place. It was just as alive, but without form.

It was ink.

“Not only do you threaten me, but you pollute my chamber with the unworthy!”

Fin dug into his thief’s bag, fingers closing around an empty jar he kept for just such an occasion. Quickly unscrewing the lid, he waited for the next outburst.

“Cease your blustering, squid!” Ardent snarled. “Give me what she left, or I will pull the power of the Stream down on you!”

Fig counted on her fingers. One… two…

“Fool Wizard! I will send you to your—gak!”

Fin dove between the two shells as the great beak opened. In a single swooping motion, he scraped the jar along the creature’s throat, filling it with ink.

“Akh… yuhk… hrr…”

All around, the great columns of the walls swayed and untangled. The coils of the door slipped apart, the gallery beyond dissolving into a chaos of tentacles as the creature unwound itself.

Fin jumped to his feet. “I’ve got it!” he shouted, holding the jar of ink into the air.

“Dooooooooooooooooooom!” the Sheshefesh finished.