8

K INC HEN’S MIND raced. Not only was the clockwork in the sack a person, but it was a person who probably hadn’t volunteered to be traded. Maybe, thought Kinchen, it was a person who could explain what was going on. Maybe a person who could help her find Pip.

The person shifted and stared up at Kinchen; realizing that she’d been pointing her knife into the sack, Kinchen slipped it back in her vest. Then she opened the sack all the way and eased it down.

The person was a girl—at least, if the braids were anything to go by. Dozens of long black braids. A little girl? Younger than Kinchen, anyway. Thin face.

She was probably hungry, thirsty. Maybe hurt.

“I’m going to cut the cords off you. Hold still.”

The girl nodded and waited until Kinchen had cut all the rope and loosened the gag before she sat up and rubbed her wrists and ankles. She swallowed several times.

“Well,” she said. Her voice cracked like she hadn’t used it in a while, but it cleared as she kept talking. “He gave me a sleeping draught. I didn’t expect that.” She swallowed again. “Jumping jellyfish, my mouth tastes like a sour desert.”

Kinchen nodded. “I don’t have any water, but we can get some downstairs. Do you know where you are?”

“Generally speaking. On the big Island, yes? That’s what I asked for, anyway.” The girl looked unconcerned, even chipper. “But I have to say, I think it was a little unfair to drug me to sleep. I wasn’t going to put up a fuss.” Then she grinned. “I’m Caesar. Are you Kinchen? He said you’d be my adopted sister.”

“Who said?” But Kinchen already knew the answer.

“The Raft King, silly. I’m the volunteer.” She paused. “You were expecting me, right? In exchange for your volunteer?”

“There wasn’t any volunteer.”

“Sure there was! I was traded for someone .” She stood up shakily. “Can we get that water you promised and then talk about it? I’m about dead of thirst.”

Kinchen stood, too, blocking the door. They’d talk about this now . “There wasn’t any trade. Your Raft King stole my brother. My little brother.”

“A kid?” She shook her head, eyes big. “Nah.”

“You think I’m lying to you? Pip’s only eleven—he needs me to take care of him. He’s not old enough to be a volunteer. And anyway, he didn’t volunteer. The Raft King drugged him and me—and stole him. Your Raft King,” she added spitefully.

The Raftworld girl tensed, hand at throat. Small and thin, she looked like she was made of wire; and she vibrated like a strung bow. Her braids angled crookedly down her back, and some of the shorter hairs had worked their way out of the braids and fanned out from her head in a fuzzy halo—reminiscent of Pip’s own thatch of hair. Against the light, it was hard to make out her features.

“I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t. Or I would never have agreed.”

Kinchen snorted.

“I didn’t know.”

Maybe that was true—she was stuffed in a sack, after all. “Let’s get some water. Then we’ll go home to my grandfather and make sure he’s okay. Then you’ll tell me how to find Raftworld.”

The girl, Caesar, nodded slowly. “And maybe some food, too?”

•   •   •

A S THE GIRL drank from the kitchen faucet, Kinchen asked, just to see if she’d heard right, “Your name is...Caesar?”

“Yup.” She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smacked her lips. “That was perfect . Amazing. ”

“Caesar is a boy’s name,” said Kinchen. Immediately she was embarrassed—maybe this person was a boy. Maybe braids were what boys on Raftworld wore—how would she know what crazy things they did there? “...Are you a boy?”

She giggled. “I’m a girl. My name is Caesar. For real.”

“A boy’s name.”

“Says who? If a girl has it, it’s a girl name.” She tipped her head to the side. “Is Kinchen a made-up name?”

“It’s just old,” Kinchen said defensively.

“Old-fashioned is nice. It’s a fantastic name.” Then: “What’s your age?”

“Twelve. You?”

The girl flashed a grin. “Twelve.” Kinchen must have looked doubting, because Caesar said, “Am too. I’m just short for my age.”

“Why—why did you volunteer? I thought only adults could do that.”

She grinned and gestured to the sink. Kinchen was glad to bend and drink; maybe she could wash the drug’s bad taste away.

“I’m an exception. The Raft King wanted to get rid of me.”

Kinchen brought her head up, mouth dripping. “Why?”

“I wouldn’t help him.” She shrugged. “He wanted me to go walking out into storms and look for something in the water—a doorway or something.” She said doorway like it was a question. “He said it was for the good of Raftworld. But it’s not for the good of Raftworld to go chasing storms—we sail away from storms. The Raft King and I had a big fight about that, and then he said I could either help him or I could go. So I went. I mean, it’s not like there was any good reason to stay—” She broke off. “I just didn’t think he’d drug me first. I kind of thought I’d be part of the ceremony—you know, part of the exchange of volunteers. And there would be a party and food and all that. How many volunteers were there, anyway? Besides your brother, I mean,” she added.

“None.” Kinchen wiped her mouth off. She’d had enough. “There were supposed to be fourteen. But Raftworld left without them. What do you mean, walk into storms and look for a doorway ?”

“We were kind of yelling at each other by that point. Well, I was yelling. So the king didn’t spell everything out exactly, but I have a theory about the doorway. And going out into storms...I have a gift with the sea.” Then, seeing Kinchen’s expression, she said, with a sudden flash of light across her own face, “Your brother does, too, doesn’t he?” She pursed her lips. “Maybe that’s why the king took him.”

Caesar and Pip had similar talents, that much was clear. And maybe Kinchen could get more information out of Caesar—to save Pip from whatever the Raft King planned. But first: Ren. “Let’s get going.”

Caesar grinned. “Yes, let’s.”

They left town and walked along the path toward the cliffs—the same path Kinchen had run down only the day before. The thin, underused trail led only to Old Ren and Kinchen and Pip’s house. Once in a while the town’s schoolteacher visited (and made sure Kinchen and Pip were learning), and a few times a year someone else would venture out to see them, but other than that: nothing. So the path was barely visible, appearing and disappearing into the undergrowth as you followed it.

When they reached the jagged, low cliffs that led toward the big bay, Kinchen slowed down to give Caesar a sense of the land. “The bay out there—it’s known for having strange fish.” Then she stopped. Pip had spent a lot of time at the bay, but he didn’t often tell her about it; some things he kept to himself. “Is your gift to talk...with...?”

“No,” Caesar said. “That’s part of why the Raft King was okay with getting rid of me. My gift wasn’t exactly what he wanted. I just walk. The fish don’t talk with me.”

Kinchen nodded. Maybe Caesar could go out into storms (whatever that meant), but it hadn’t been enough. The Raft King had wanted Pip instead.

She continued the tour. “Our house is ahead.” She gestured to a small cabin just visible above them, at the base of a steep hill—almost a mountain, really. “In the cliff behind our house are a bunch of caves. There’s a story that the founder of Raftworld came to Tathenn once and lived in one of those caves, with her puppy . . .” But she’d forgotten the rest of the story. She wasn’t very good with history.

Though Caesar had been drooping, now her hungry face came to life. “You mean Venus lived here? That’s amazing!” She studied the mountain as if she could pick out the cave Raftworld’s founder had lived in. “You’ll have to show me her home. Tomorrow?”

Kinchen laughed. “No one knows where the cave is. Anyway, it might not even be real. Just a story.”

Just then, away up the hill, Old Ren stepped into the doorframe of the cabin. He straightened his back with one hand and waved to them with the other. Kinchen sighed with relief. Ren was up and moving around. He was feeling better.

Caesar gasped. “Who’s THAT?”

Kinchen waved and walked faster. “Old Ren. We live with him.”

“He looks so creaky . He’s the ancientest person I’ve ever seen.”

Kinchen squinted. Ren certainly was old, with his long white hair and hunched back. Sometimes she didn’t notice exactly how old; other times—like when he was sick—she studied his wrinkled face and his gnarled hands and how slow he moved, and she worried.

“And he’s so pale . He looks like bones. Like all his color is drained out of him. What’s wrong with him?”

“That’s just the way he is,” said Kinchen stiffly. “He said he’s always been white-skinned. He said he’s a throwback to the English who crashed here a couple hundred years ago.”

Caesar wrinkled her nose in confusion. “You mean he’s two hundred years old?”

Kinchen frowned at those dark brown eyes. How could Caesar possibly be twelve? She was such a baby. “That would be crazy, wouldn’t it? He looks like the English. That’s what I’m saying.” They passed through the raspberry brambles—Kinchen lifted a particularly long branch off the path so that they could pass through—and stepped into the yard in front of the house. “You’re out of bed,” she said to Old Ren. She meant more with those words than she could say.

“And well.” He winked at her and lifted his pale face to the sunshine.

Kinchen gestured to the girl beside her. “This is Caesar. From Raftworld. This is my adopted grandfather, Ren.”

They nodded to each other, and then Kinchen said, “It’s about Pip.”

He said, “I already know. Prissy came out late last night. She was stirred up about it all. Upset for you. But we’ll fix it.” Then to Caesar he said, “So you must be the trade in the big sack?”

“Clockwork trade,” said Kinchen, before Caesar could answer. “That’s what I thought she was, anyway, until the sack moved.”

“How’d you know about me?” Caesar asked.

“Prissy read the note.” Ren grinned, looking almost like his healthy self. “Did you meet her? The cook? She’s terrifying if she isn’t on your side. The governor will not be eating well for a long time.”

They weren’t talking about what was important. “How are we going to fix it?” asked Kinchen. “Pip.”

“We’ll walk to town later today and row over to Raftworld.” He stretched his back, groaning a little. “ You’ll row.”

He didn’t know yet—not all of it. Kinchen said, “Raftworld left late last night. With Pip.”

Ren’s grin dropped off his face. “Ah.” He leaned back against the doorframe as if he’d suddenly deflated. “I—was not aware of that.”

“No one knew until this morning, when they weren’t there anymore.”

He nodded his head slowly, thinking. “Well. Now I need to sit down. And we’ll discuss this. Make plans.”

•   •   •

I NSIDE , K INCHEN set the pot on the stove for tea and rummaged in the cupboard for food. There wasn’t much. There never was; they generally had enough, but no more than that. She found some raspberries in a bowl, and then Ren said, sitting heavily on a cushion on the floor, “Prissy brought us some stew. It’s on the back hotplate.” And sure enough, in a sealed pot on the back of the stove, cold vegetables sat in a thick brown sauce. Kinchen lit the burner.

Caesar put her hands on her hips. “For your reference from now on: I don’t want to be known as the clockwork trade . Maybe we can come up with some new way to introduce me to all your friends. How about . . .” She trailed off, thinking. “The Astounding...The Amazing . . .”

“We’ll come up with something.” Ren’s craggy face assembled into a half smile—but not the grin of earlier. He gripped Kinchen’s shoulder as she leaned past him to place bowls on the table. “We’ll come up with something.” And his words were a promise that made her feel just a little better.

At supper, Caesar ate more than half of the stew. Maybe, Kinchen thought, she was so small because she was half starved. The way she was inhaling food, she’d take care of that problem quickly enough.

“I need to find a job,” said Caesar finally, licking off her spoon. “Where can I look for work?”

Ren sat back on his cushion. “What?”

“I live on Tathenn now. And I don’t have any relatives to take care of me. So I need a job.” She clattered her spoon to the table, lifted her bowl and licked it clean. “The sooner the better, right? Might as well settle in. Is there any dessert?”

Ren motioned to the cupboard, and Kinchen brought out the raspberries. Caesar took a handful and popped several berries into her mouth.

It was like she wasn’t even concerned about Pip. Kinchen took the spoons and bowls to the sink, setting them down just a little harder than she meant to. “I need to find Pip. I was hoping you’d care enough to help.”

“Kinchen,” said Ren. His voice had a warning in it.

Caesar sat up straight. “Of course I care.”

“Tell me how I can find Raftworld.”

Caesar ate the rest of the berries in her hand, all in one bite, then answered with her mouth full. “You can’t.”

Before Kinchen could protest, Caesar swallowed and amended her statement. “Not by yourself, anyway.” She tapped her chest and took another handful of berries.

“You’ll help me find Raftworld? Can you find it?”

She shrugged. “I can try . I’ll help you look, and you’re more likely to find it with me than without me. I do have an amazing gift with the sea, after all.”

At least Pip didn’t brag about his magic all the time. “You use the word amazing an awful lot.”

“Of course.”

“I can help,” said Old Ren quietly. “I can help you find Raftworld.” They turned to him, Caesar bright-faced and Kinchen in surprise. Kinchen knew Ren had some magical gifts—though he always claimed his were shallow, weak things compared to Pip’s gift (and apparently Caesar’s). Kinchen didn’t see how her grandfather could locate Pip. She’d thought Ren’s main talent was being really, really old.

“You can find Raftworld? How?”

“I have a friend—I think he can take you there. Or at least partway there.” He narrowed his eyes at Caesar as if he were studying her. “If my friend can take you close and point you in the right direction, you can go the rest of the way, yes?”

She nodded, grinning. “Sounds like you have good magic.”

“And so do you,” Ren said. “My gifts are small, but I have several. One is that I can sometimes see gifts in others.” He stood to make the tea.

“That’s why he adopted us,” said Kinchen. “He could see that Pip had gifts, too.” She hadn’t meant to say it; the words just popped out.

Ren frowned down at her. “How can you think that? I adopted you because you needed me, and it seemed to be my job to take you in. And because I loved you immediately.”

She could feel herself flushing. Ren rarely talked about love. She muttered, quickly, “I love you, too.” Then she cleared her throat. “But you could see that Pip had gifts.”

He nodded. “I could. But that’s not why I adopted you.” Then he said to Caesar, “If you have a gift for the sea, and the Raft King wants someone with a gift for the sea, why didn’t he keep you?”

“My gift wasn’t exactly what he wanted. And I wouldn’t help. Anyway, I thought I might as well come here as stay there.” Her last sentence trailed off just a little, and Caesar finished the raspberries in silence. Ren strained the tea.

Kinchen sat and thought. It seemed like everyone had gifts except her. She knew that in truth, magical gifts were extremely rare and only a few people on the Islands had any gift at all. But it didn’t feel that way. She’d been living all her remembered life with two people who had magic—and now a third, and she the only one without.

“Here’s what I want to know,” said Ren, returning to the table with the mugs and setting them down before Caesar. “What does the Raft King want with our Pip? And if we find him, can we bring him back home?”

“I don’t know about the second question,” said Caesar. “But I know the first. He wants to find a doorway. And he thinks Pip can find it.”

“Why Pip?” said Kinchen.

“What kind of doorway?” said Ren. He began to pour the tea.

“Pip can talk to fish, yes? Well, the Raft King thinks the fish know how to get to the doorway. He says there’s something—like a gate, or a portal—and the fish can find it.” She shrugged. “I don’t know why he thinks the fish know anything.”

Ren nodded slowly like that idea made sense. He poured a second mug of tea and tilted the teapot over the third cup.

Caesar continued. “And he wants to find the doorway because he wants to go through it. Into the first world.”

Ren dropped the teapot.

It fell only a few inches, onto the table, and it didn’t break. But hot liquid sloshed all over, and Kinchen jerked back to avoid getting spattered. “I’m sorry, child,” he said mildly, and he took a towel and wiped the table.

The two girls watched.

“Pip was stolen,” said Ren, as if he’d never dropped the teapot. “I can’t go across the globe after him—I’m still recovering from being ill. You girls should find Raftworld and Pip.” He turned to Caesar. “Maybe, also, you can return to your own country if you like, and not be forced to find a job here.” His mouth twisted in a half smile.

Caesar smiled back, a real smile—not her flashing-like-water grin but an open and lingering happiness. She had a nice smile, thought Kinchen, full-lipped and crinkly at the edges. Her thin face and high cheekbones seemed to rearrange into something lean and warm rather than starved and pinched. Her eyes glowed in her dark clear skin like twin planets.

“So. How do we do it?” Caesar rubbed her hands together. “And is there any more food?”

•   •   •

“W HAT FRIEND?” Kinchen asked Old Ren, when it seemed like Caesar was filling up—and slowing down. “What friend of yours can help us?” Kinchen didn’t know Ren had any friends. There were the schoolteacher and a few others who visited them once in a while. But not friends . Not people who could drop their lives to transport you somehow to Raftworld, or at least near enough to it for you to get the rest of the way yourself.

Ren studied his now-empty mug, his face more lined than ever. Then he looked up and smiled at Kinchen. “Believe it or not, he’s older than I am.”

She felt her eyes narrow. There was no one older than Ren. Surely.

“Let’s go meet this man,” said Caesar. She’d finished the last crumbs of the goat cheese and crackers Kinchen had brought out after the raspberries, and she leaned back on her cushion and patted her stomach. “I could still eat,” she mused to herself.

“Yes, let’s go,” said Kinchen. There was no fresh food left in the house.

“We’ll not find my friend until dusk,” said Old Ren. “But it might be good to think until then.”

“Think?” asked Caesar. “About what?”

Kinchen rolled her eyes. “About how to save Pip. About a plan.”

“About history,” said Ren. “It might be good to remember certain things—to help us understand why the Raft King wants Pip in the first place. And to help you to stop him from making...a rash mistake. And to remember how Raftworld came to be, and why our countries are friends.”

“We’re friends because we have to be,” Kinchen said. “Because there aren’t any other people here.”

“There’s pirates,” said Caesar. She was perking up again.

“There aren’t any pirates,” said Kinchen. She turned toward Old Ren. “Why do we need to remember the history of Raftworld? And why rash mistake ?”

“I know the history,” Caesar said proudly. “Our storyteller on Raftworld tells us about it all the time.” She closed her eyes and recited. “We escaped from the first world because the English were trying to enslave us and send us to our deaths on plantations. Almost two hundred years ago. We stepped through to the second world when we escaped—by accident, in a storm—and we’ve been trying to find our way home ever since. For almost two hundred years. Looking for Africa, where we will settle and find our families back.” She shrugged. “That’s why we live on the rafts, because we haven’t found our home.”

“Is there actually an Africa?” asked Kinchen. “Maybe it’s just a story.”

“Just because it’s a story doesn’t mean it isn’t real,” said Ren.

“Of course it’s real. That’s where Venus came from,” said Caesar. “The one who lived in the caves nearby, with her puppy, like you told me.”

Ren smiled as if he could picture the puppy. “Yes, her dog. She called him Tricky, because he could wiggle into any cozy spot no matter how small.”

“I never heard that bit before,” said Caesar. “About the puppy’s name.” Kinchen shook her head; she hadn’t either.

Ren shrugged. “I’m not sure that’s an important detail,” he said. “Except to the dog. But come, let’s sit outside in the breeze, and I’ll tell you a story.”

Caesar clapped her hands and jumped up.

Kinchen groaned. “A story? Shouldn’t we be—I don’t know—packing or something? So that we can take off as soon as we meet up with your friend?”

“A story,” said Ren. Z+pEzDZW5rYsnYO7wRjTEB/SsNwaOMK8P2sAUJhFWvDvus+p8VRHzrkVGzIJ0V1F