Authors: Kit Whitfield
King in the water—that was what they were calling him now. Visiting his wife when the tides were right, speaking to passing ships, hailing sailors and courtiers who went out to fish, swimming out with his family. Perhaps he would not be king over the deepsmen, not in body: he was still small, always would be, for the sea. The deepsmen had no word for
negotiator;
they were, however, developing a verb:
whistle-talking
. Who would have thought it, Whistle reflected, finally amused. He had ended up a diplomat after all.
Anne embraced him a last time, and swam back to her people. For an instant, hanging empty-armed in the water, Whistle was lonely. He felt a catch of sorrow in his throat as the girl disappeared into the gloom. But she would be back.
Whistle drew a deep lungful of air and drove down, out to the sea where his own people were waiting for him. As the water stroked over his body, he felt it all shed away: words, books, straight-angled rooms and crosses of wood, of stone, of glass, the textures and weights and tastes of the land. He was coming clean, returning to the life he had lost.
It would not be safe in the sea. Nothing was safe. But if the sea was a life of movement and hunger, starvation and flight, so was life on the land, in its way. Whistle had lived skin-to-skin with danger all his life. It was nothing new. Nothing, in itself, he was afraid of. He would save his fear for real things, for sharks and poison fish and rocks in storms. He was going home.
He could hear the calls of his people, out in the dark water:
Come on. Welcome. We are waiting
. Whistle broke the surface one last time in an English bay, took a great breath of cold, sweet air, and dived.
I’m blessed to know and work with a lot of wonderful people, all of whom deserve thanks.
First, thanks to my wonderful agent Sophie Hicks and everyone at Ed Victor: I couldn’t be more fortunate than to work with you. Without Philippa Harrison, I doubt the book would have been finished at all, and certainly it would have been much worse, so endless gratitude for riding in on a white horse at a critical juncture.
Everyone at Random House has been great, especially Dan Franklin, Betsy Mitchell, and Ellah Allfrey, whose superb suggestions went a long way towards improving the first draft. I’d also like to thank the sturdy proofreaders, Ellen Weider, and Maralee Youngs my fine designers and typesetters, whose skill and patience I can only admire.
The commenters on my blog have been a delight to me ever since I started it, and I much appreciate their thoughts and company. I’d particularly like to thank all those clever souls who gave generously of their time and effort to answer my call for nit-picks with an alarmingly well-informed array of suggestions and queries, which made the final polish much more useful than it otherwise would have been: Naomi Clark, James Donalbain Bremner, Jane Draycott, Jill Heather Flegg, Ursula L, Jos, Cowboy Diva, Robb, Joolya, Christopher Subich, hapax, Linda Coleman, Practicallyevil, Wesley Parish,
Margaret Yang, Sunlizzard, Lauren, Ecks, Michael Mock, Sheila O’Shea, Alfgifu, and everyone who falls into the category of “Anonymous.”
At an important point, Tim and Joanna Harison recommended an essential book,
The Artist’s Way
by Julia Cameron, which made a huge difference in getting over a pretty big crisis of confidence, so sincere thanks to them. Though I haven’t met her in person, I’d like to thank Julia Cameron as well: it was good advice, I took it, and I’d recommend it.
My excellent friends have been great, so thanks to everyone: you’re all fine people and a pleasure to know. I’d particularly like to thank Claire Bott, consultant on many things and stalwart ally; Peggy Vance, early reader and wellspring of confidence; and everyone else who encouraged me.
To my dear husband Gareth Thomas, for his suggestions, support, courage and faith, all my love.
And finally, I want to thank my family. When I wrote my first proper short story at eighteen, I showed it to my mother, knowing I could count on her for unqualified support. After that, I showed it to my father with some trepidation, knowing I could count on him to be frank. He read it, thought for a second, and said, “You could be a proper writer.” For these things, and for so many others: love and thanks. I couldn’t have done it without you.
K
IT
W
HITFIELD
grew up in London. In her time, she has trained as a chef and a masseuse, as well as worked as a website editor, quote hunter, toy shop assistant and publisher. She is the author of two novels:
Benighted
and
In Great Waters
.
In Great Waters
is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
2009 Del Rey Trade Paperback Edition
Copyright © 2009 by Kit Whitfield
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Del Rey, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House, Inc., New York.
D
EL
R
EY
is a registered trademark and the Del Rey colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Originally published in hardcover in the United Kingdom by Jonathan Cape, a division of The Random House Group Limited, in 2009.
eISBN: 978-0-345-51674-9
v3.0