She had no idea if Julian heard. From the deck came a series of thunderous crashes and bangs, coupled with more screaming. Some of it seemed to be coming from the water, and Noa wondered if the sailors had thrown themselves into the sea in order to be out of the way as the mages fought.
Gabriela’s eyes narrowed in a thoughtful expression that Noa didn’t like one bit. Rather than going up to the deck, she turned and hurried down the corridor without giving Noa another glance.
Another huge wave sent the ship listing to port. Noa tumbled over and over, banging knees and hands and elbows, until she hit the wall. For a moment, she thought the ship would fall over, and she panicked—if it did, she would simply sink into the depths. But the vessel righted itself.
She tried to yell for Julian again, but all that came out was “Mmmph.” Her face was squished against the floor. Fortunately, her face was also squished against the shadow of the table. She grabbed it in her teeth and tried to pull, but she couldn’t move her head enough to lift it.
The ship listed again, and Noa went into a terrifying spin with the shadow in her mouth, only this time it wrapped around her like a blanket, and as it came free it revealed the familiar door to Death beneath it. Noa fell through with a strangled shriek.
She landed in a sprawl. She felt Gabriela’s spell lift—it was like having a sticky cobweb pulled off her body. For a long moment, she just lay there, dazed with relief. It felt odd to be so happy about ending up in Death, but being alive in the land of the dead was better than being dead in the land of the living.
“Otter?” she called.
“Yes?” A familiar supple shape poked its head over the edge of a boulder. “What do you want? I’m grooming.”
Noa forced herself not to snap at it. She had to get back to the ship to help Julian. “But why?” she said desperately. “You’re already so handsome.”
The otter paused in the act of rubbing its face. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.” Noa couldn’t keep the frustration from her voice. “I already told you, you’re the handsomest otter I’ve ever seen. Look, I need to get back to the ship, but I need to come out on the deck. Which shadow should I take?”
The otter regarded her unblinkingly.
Noa was nearly hopping up and down with urgency. “Well?”
The otter stood. “I’ve never spoken to you in my life. Are you saying you told someone else that they’re handsomer than me?”
“No, of course not,” Noa hurried on. “I mean—”
“Good day to you,” the otter said frostily. “I hope you end up in the sea.” And it flowed away.
Noa groaned. In desperation, she lifted up the nearest shadow and stuck her head through. She could see nothing except sloshing water. She turned her head and found the ship hovering only a few feet away—she was in the shadow it cast on the waves. There was a sailor in the water, swimming frantically away. His eyes caught hers, and his jaw fell open.
Not the right shadow.
Noa leaned back into Death. She tried several more shadows in quick succession, but none of them brought her onto the deck. She became aware, the more shadows she handled, of how much they overlapped, and she began to be able to sense where each one began and ended. A single ruin might have several shadows clustered beneath it, though they looked like one, and they all led to different places. Finding the right one was like sifting through papers scattered messily across a desk. In Death, everything was closer together, and two overlapping shadows might lead to places that were dozens of yards apart.
Finally, Noa found a shadow that led to the deck of the ship, and the same shadow cast by the figurehead that she had come through in the first place. Noa jumped.
Something was on fire. Smoke hung in the air, and thunderclouds clustered so low above the ship that Noa could probably touch them if she jumped. The deck was a mess of vines, alive and dead, and strange orbs hovered in the air like fallen moons. Several sailors were cowering by the railing. From the opposite end of the deck came a thunderous crash followed by a series of smaller crashes. But Noa didn’t have a chance to investigate, for her muscles seized up and she toppled onto her side.
“Julian!” she managed to holler before her face seized up, too.
“Noa!”
There he was, hurrying across the deck. His hair looked singed in places, and the hem of his cloak was charred and ragged. The sailors cowering by the railing screamed at the sight of him and leaped over the side, though Julian barely spared them a glance.
“Are you all right?”
Noa just looked up at him. Her body had contorted itself back into that ridiculous posture. She looked like she was trying to run while lying on her side. “Gabriela,” she managed.
“She’s done something, hasn’t she?” Julian touched her shoulder and murmured a stream of words in Marrow. After a few seconds of Julian trying different spells, Noa came unstuck. She sagged back against the deck. Julian helped her to her feet.
“How many mages are there?” she demanded.
“There were six. But I didn’t see Gabriela. I’ve dealt with them all except for—”
“Watch out!” Noa yelled. Vines shot toward them and wrapped around Julian’s mouth. A man jumped out from behind the figurehead, chanting in Briar. He advanced, and the vines snaked around Julian’s arms, tightening and tightening.
Noa pulled out her pocketknife and sliced through the vines around Julian’s head. As soon as his mouth was free, he spat out a spell in Eddy, and the mage went spinning backward, over the railing and into the sea. The remaining vines fell away. The deck was suddenly very quiet, except for the
