Shwump.
Astrae struck Queen’s Step with an oddly underwhelming squishy sound, as if the islands were made of mud rather than rock. The impact rolled through Queen’s Step like a gentle wave, and Noa kept her feet. A cascade of salt spray fell across the island, drenching them.
When Noa dashed the water from her eyes, she saw that the northern promontory of Queen’s Step had fused with one of Astrae’s sea cliffs. What’s more, Queen’s Step no longer seemed to be anchored into the water. It rocked when Astrae rocked, bobbed when Astrae bobbed.
“There,” Julian said, a little flushed. “That wasn’t so bad.”
Noa doubted this was the majority opinion on Queen’s Step. No one seemed hurt, but the air was still punctuated by screams. Servants and courtiers leaned out of palace windows, gaping, while mages ran hither and thither, clearly under the impression that the palace was being attacked, but lacking any sense of what to do about it. A man standing on a balcony fainted, landing with a thump that Noa could hear all the way down at sea level.
“What do you think?” Julian said.
“It’s great,” Mite said, hopping up and down.
Astrae began to rotate, and as Queen’s Step was now joined to it like two cakes smashed together, the palace rotated, too. A fresh chorus of screams echoed across the water. Noa began to feel nauseous.
“Hang on,” Julian said distractedly. “I can get the spinning to stop.”
“Oh, why?” Noa said. “This is such a delightful way to travel.”
Julian muttered another stream of nonsensical incantations. Slowly, the horrible spinning ceased, and the island of Astrae/Queen’s Step gave a shudder that rattled Noa’s teeth. Then, with a sound like an avalanche of rusty cutlery, the island surged forward, before settling into a calm, southward glide.
“Right,” Julian said. “A few kinks to work out. I’ll speak to Kell about it.”
“What?” Noa was bent double against the rock with her hands over her ears.
“Oh, come on,” Julian huffed. “I think it turned out pretty well.”
“I think,” Noa said, “that you could warn people before you go gluing islands together. Do you want everyone to keep calling you the Dark Lord?”
Mite grabbed his sleeve. “Can we go to Astrae now, Julian? I want to visit Patience.”
“Of course, Maita,” Julian said, looking put out. “It’s nice to know that someone appreciates immensely difficult feats of magic.”
Noa snorted. She felt an odd wave of sadness. Though she was secretly happy that they could go on living on Astrae—in a manner of speaking—it made it all the harder to leave. Of course, she wasn’t really leaving Astrae behind, for how did you leave a place that could follow you wherever you went? And she wasn’t leaving Mite and Julian, either—if either of them needed her, she would come back. They were Marchenas, after all. And Marchenas were always first.
Julian had to stop a few times on the lumpy, slightly soft middle ground between Queen’s Step and Astrae to smooth out fissures and ripples in the earth. Several people had waded into the water to gawp at the new bay that had formed between the islands. A towering dark shadow bloomed near a knot of chattering nobles, but Julian swept them to safety with a wave just in time.
“Beauty!” Julian shouted.
The sea serpent’s huge head surfaced. A smaller head surfaced next to hers, an identically murderous gleam in its eyes. The baby serpent, whom Mite had named Lovely—sea serpents didn’t abide with names, and they had to call her something—stretched her mouth wide, revealing a freshly grown row of jagged teeth.
“I thought I sent you away,” Julian snapped. “Shouldn’t you be somewhere in the Untold Sea by now, terrorizing pirates?”
“You didn’t really think you’d get rid of me so easily, did you, dear?” the serpent cooed. “I’ve sworn to have my revenge on you for keeping me captive, and I keep my promises. One day, dear Julian. One day, you will let your guard down. And the air will fill with the sound of your screams as I feast upon you bone by bone. . . .”
Noa folded her arms. “How about instead of all that, Tomas promises to bake you a cake once a month?”
Beauty fixed Noa with a long stare, her tongue flicking across her teeth. “Two cakes,” she said finally. “Provided one’s lemon-lime.”
Acknowledgments
Thank you to my brilliant editor, Kristin Rens, for making this and every book ten times better than what it would have been; thanks as well to the team at Balzer+Bray. Huge thank you to my agent, Brianne Johnson, who is the most talented and enthusiastic advocate any author could hope for. Thanks to Allie Levick, for always being on top of everything, and to Julia Iredale for crafting the perfect cover. Thanks again to Kim Ventrella, Claire Fayers, and Ruth Lauren. Thanks to all the librarians, teachers, and book bloggers who supported this book and who champion children’s literature online.
Thank you to Shannon Grant, Ross Conner, Rebecca Larsen, and Stephanie Li for reading early drafts of The Language of Ghosts and providing advice and encouragement. Thanks to Tanis Cortens and Jane Cortens for the advice on chapter titles, and to the local writers’ community here on Vancouver Island. Thanks to my family, particularly my dad, who provided feedback as well as general nautical insights and is thus responsible for any related errors present in this book (kidding!).
About the Author
Photo by Karen McKinnon
HEATHER FAWCETT is also the author of the middle grade novel Ember and the Ice Dragons and the young adult series Even the Darkest Stars. She has a master’s degree in English literature and has worked as an archaeologist, photographer, technical writer, and backstage assistant for a Shakespearean theater festival. She lives on Vancouver Island, Canada.
Heather can be found online at www.heatherfawcettbooks.com.
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Copyright
Balzer + Bray is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.
THE LANGUAGE OF GHOSTS. Copyright ©
