On the Isle of Sound and Wonder (14 page)

Ferran swallowed his embarrassment and confusion. “All right?” he ventured, clutching the empty coconut.

“Where is your home?” Her eyes gleamed like fish scales catching sunlight.

“Neapolis,” answered Ferran, and his stomach sank a little deeper into himself.
Though no more my home now than this strange island. I may never leave this place again.

“And where were you traveling? In your ship? What type of ship was it? Was it a submarinal ship as well as a surface vessel, or was it just a dirigible?”

Ferran blinked. “We were heading home. My sister was just married, and now lives in Tunitz, and—”

“Tunitz? This is in Afrek?”

“Yes.” Ferran looked surprised. “The northernmost country of Afrek. How did you—”

She flapped a hand impatiently. “And the ship?”

“It’s an Elemental Type 43-G luxury airship. It can sail on the surface of the waves but primarily serves as aerial transportation.” He furrowed his brow at the rapidly shifting expressions on her face. “Why? What does it matter what kind of ship?”

“I have never seen one so close to us before. Usually they fly or sail past our island and never notice that we’re here. Occasionally, they sink out beyond the bay, far beyond, but within view. Yours is the first ship I have ever seen so close, which is why I was able to bring up some of your debris, and find you afloat.”

“Debris?” Ferran stared back at her. “You mean when you found the pocket knife.”

“Oh, yes, and more,” she told him. “Several trunks I pulled out of the sea. I have not opened them.”

“Trunks?” Ferran felt his heart beating. There could be anything in them: clothes, food, supplies, one of the Mandolinani wireless devices which could be used for contacting a rescue party . . . “Where are they?”

“The trunks? I’ve hidden them.”

“Take me to them! I can help you open them. Please!” He instinctively reached for her hand, but stopped himself some inches from her actual skin. She did not flinch as hard as she had the first time, but she eyed him. “Please, Mira. It could be important.”

“Fine. But you tell me more.” She got to her feet and, after a moment, he followed. “You tell me about your world. Is Neapolis near Roma? What is it like in the mountains? Have you ever been to Troia? Landon? Gudafesct? Are these great cities as full of towering walls and elegant spires as they say?”

They walked swiftly through the woods, and Ferran huffed as he tried to keep up with Mira’s long, certain strides. It was a level of activity Ferran was unused to.

“Who’s they? As who says?” He felt thoroughly baffled. “Are you not native to this island?”

“No,” Mira threw over her shoulder at him as they walked. “I was born somewhere else, and my father and I came here when I was very small.”

“There’s others on the island?”

“Just three of us,” said Mira, and Ferran heard her tone grow darker. “My father and I . . . and a monster.”

* * *

1862

Mira lay on her back on the soft moss near the clear spring, listening to the birds in the trees and the sound of trickling water. A gentle breeze played at the leaves overhead, and all was calm and quiet. Several feet away, Karaburan lay dozing on his own patch of moss, curled up like a dog at the foot of his owner’s bed. Her father was elsewhere, busying himself with his study of the island’s native plant life, no doubt. All was well. The island was safe, and she was free to do as she pleased, even at that young age.

A voice like silvery light dancing on water whispered to her from somewhere above as the late afternoon light grew more rosy and golden with every moment. “Mira,” whispered the voice. “Mira-child. Come and let’s play a game! Come and let’s have a chase.”

Mira opened her eyes with a smile and sat up, her long, honey-brown hair spilling down her back. “Aurael?” she called softly. “Where are you hiding?”

“Come and see, come and see,” chimed the unseen spirit, teasingly plucking at different tree branches to make the leaves rustle.

“Come out!” she laughed, both charmed and annoyed. “I want to see you!”

“Now, now, my girl, you know I can’t do that. Be patient; someday when you’re older you’ll see me face to face. What games shall we have? A hunt? A chase? I’ll be the fox and you’ll be the huntress. Or you’ll be the mermaid and I’ll be the sailor.”

“It’s too warm for chasing,” answered Mira, smiling at the sunlight on her face through the canopy of trees. “Come sit and tell me stories.” She patted the moss beside her.

The cool breeze ruffled her hair and her dress, torn from wear and rearranged to accommodate her growing form. She laughed softly, and the breeze curled up on the moss beside her like a cat. She could almost see the silver-blue outline of it, its round shape, its pointed ears and bright round eyes staring up at her. Mira reached over and stroked it, causing it to purr softly.

“What stories would you have, my mistress?” asked the translucent cat in the same breathy, shimmering voice as the wind.

“How long have you been on the island?” she inquired, still stroking the cat’s lighter-than-air fur. The cat stared up at her for a while before it answered.

“Probably as long as you’ve been alive,” replied the cat, shimmering in the light.

“If that’s so, why can’t Karaburan see you? He’s been here that long himself, he told me so. We’re the same age.”

The cat did not turn to look over at the sleeping Karaburan, but its eyes narrowed a little. “Karaburan is not special. He’s not like you, Mira. You’re the blessed one who found me in the tree, remember?” It butted its head against her hand, and she smiled.

“I’m not that special,” she told Aurael, shyly. “I’m just lucky, I think.”

“You’re very special to me,” insisted Aurael the cat, purring harder.

“Where’s Karaburan’s mother?” Mira asked, her voice softening. “Whenever I ask about her, Karaburan cries and won’t speak. He misses her very much. And what about his father?” Aurael did not answer, and looked as if he had not heard. Mira scratched the cat under the chin, tipping its head up to look at her. “Aurael? Where are Karaburan’s parents? Are they dead?”

“Yes,” said the cat, and its voice sounded unhappy.

“Did you know them?”

“I knew his mother,” said Aurael a little too quickly. He paused, and then went on more slowly. “She got ill and died.”

“Here on the island?” Mira looked alarmed. “But I’ve never been ill here. Neither has Father.”

“Your father . . . your father’s love protects you. You are safe from much the world has to offer in the way of harm. You see? You are special.”

Mira considered her next question carefully. “And where is my mother? Did she die here, too?”

“No, child. She died before you got to this island. Your father says she was very fragile. I’m sorry,” the cat added, closing its eyes. Mira did not feel sad about this for some reason, and continued stroking the cat in silence, wondering why she was not mournful the way Karaburan was whenever his mother was mentioned.

“Where was I born?”

“I don’t know,” said the cat, looking at her again. Mira stopped petting it and swept her long hair over her shoulder with both hands, picking out the tangles that had accumulated from the wind blowing and from swimming in the sea. “Why all these curiosities, Mira? Curiosity killed the cat, you know.”

“I’m not a cat,” said Mira seriously, “and neither are you.”

“No, indeed. That’s true.”

“When am I going to see you, Aurael? Really see you? I like having you as my invisible companion, and I like pretending you’re different animals, but I want to see what you really look like.”

“You know that’s not possible,” the cat said, standing up and curling its tail in frustration.

“Why not? We are sheltered here. Safe. I will love you no matter what you look like. Karaburan is ugly as a spinefish and it doesn’t matter, I still care about him. That’s what friendship is. Please, Aurael, show me.”

The cat walked away from her, and after several steps, disappeared completely. “Your father forbids it, Mira. He has decreed that I may guard you as your friend, but not ‘til you are older will you see my face. As for Karaburan, I know not. Your father is careful with his belongings and does not like to share.” His voice had an edge to it like the sharp rocks that sometimes cut her feet in the shallows of the lagoon. “Alas, my dove, your present company leaves much freedom to be desired,” sighed the breeze over her shoulder.

“Karaburan is asleep. He won’t stir. Come sit with me and let me see you!”

Aurael did not reply at first. When he did, his voice was low and close and wary, tickling her shoulder. “He cannot see me,” warned the spirit. “You know the rules.”

“Rules are silly and boring,” chided Mira boldly. “It doesn’t matter what Karaburan sees, he’s completely harmless. And who cares what Father says? This island is our home! Our safe place. No harm can come to us here.”

“I cannot,” groaned the invisible spirit longingly. “I am yours alone, and if he sees me, it will not end well.”

Mira frowned, her expression folding neatly into a dark furrow of frustration. “But I want to see you,” she insisted.

The spirit sighed noisily. “All right. For a few minutes. What other shape shall I take? A girl? A boy? A bird? A dog?”

“Just be you,” she insisted. “Show me what you look like.” Again, Mira was puzzled by Aurael’s long silence and turned her head, listening and looking for him in the long afternoon shadows. “Please, Aurael,” she added softly. “We’ve been friends for so long.”

There was no answer. Mira sat very still, listening to the sounds of the late afternoon waning on: the cicadas hidden in the trees above the clearing and the little brook bubbling away from the pool of fresh water. She sighed and lay down on the moss again after a time. She thought about her mother, whose face and name she could not remember, and about her father, who seemed happy enough on the island, but kept to himself during the day.
I wasn’t born on the island,
she mused.
So there really must be other things out there beyond the water. I want to know what they are. My father knows; he must know. He has books that tell of it, I’m sure.

“Aurael?” Mira whispered tentatively. “Are you here?” When there was no answer, she focused on the sleeping, fish-skinned boy.

“Karaburan, wake up!” she cried, sitting up and climbing to her feet. Her playmate rolled over and groaned in displeasure at the sudden alarm. Mira pounced on him and shook his arm excitedly, her small hands even smaller in comparison to his enormous frame. Though they were the same age, Karaburan was three times bigger than she, and could carry her easily on his shoulders as he loped on all fours.

“No, no,” muttered the sleeping boy-beast. “I’m not done with my supper . . .”

Mira laughed a crowing laugh. “Get up, get up, you sleepy head! We have to go to the cave!”

Karaburan startled upright, and Mira stumbled backwards, still laughing at the look of worried surprise on his face. “The cave?” he cried. “Is your father angry? Did we do something wrong?”

“No,” she giggled. “I want to borrow some books!”

“Books?” Karaburan’s eyes grew even larger and more fishlike with his slack-jawed expression.

“Yes, books. To read.”

“But we can’t read!”

“We will learn to,” announced Mira. “Together. Let’s go!”

Truffo Arlecin sat on the warm sand, his dark eyes following the white-capped waves as they endlessly rolled in to the shore. The cawing of the dull sea birds over the water grated softly on his ears like a barber’s blade against a leather strop, both soothing and irritable in turn. The bland white and gray scavengers circled urgently over a spot further out in the waves, and Truffo felt a faint pang, remembering his feathered savior.

“Birdy, I hardly knew ye,” Truffo said softly to himself, putting his face in his hands. He heard a rustling in the hovel several yards behind him.

“Where’s that Kabran, eh?” Stephen Montanto called as he came down the sand to stand by Truffo. “Where’s that Kaliban?”

“It’s Karaburan,” snarled Truffo, bleary-eyed. “And it’s out there, fishing for our supper.”
Stephen is less witsome than I thought he’d be
, thought the fool drearily.
He is a hell of a servant, but his kingdom will be one of malaprops and malcontent.

“Right so, right so. Kalaburn. Our goodly monster.” Stephen stretched himself and breathed the air deeply.

“Why are you so pleased with yourself?” Truffo asked bitterly. Even the sound of Stephen’s breathing was beginning to annoy him.

“Is it not right for a lord to be pleased over his newfound title and lands?”

“You aren’t a lord—this is all make-believe, Stephen. You’re a valet to a drowned king, and I’m a fool and an orphan, unloved by the world.” Stephen said nothing, but continued to stretch, working out the kinks in his neck and arms, sauntering down to the water’s edge to put his toes in the surf.

Truffo felt the familiar great wave of sorrow swell in his chest, threatening to overthrow him.
I should never come on this trip. Then at least I’d be able to kill myself at home in the comfort of my own room. This entire thing was a disaster. The only nice thing was that damned bird that pulled the metal out of my shoulder, and the monster ate it.
He choked back a sob, covering his face with his hands again.