“Just looks like it has a scar, doesn’t it?” Engle said. He patted the ship on the side as he climbed up the ladder. “You look absolutely menacing, Cloudcaster.”
Once aboard, Tor, Melda, and Engle gathered at its helm.
“We have the compass,” Tor said. “And part of the siren statue. I think we should look for the comb first. If we use it to find the pearl, we might avoid the prophecy, since we changed our plan. If it doesn’t work, we can always use the compass to go straight to the pearl.” He looked down at the enchanted object in his palm. “If I’m right, and the siren statue originally had the comb, then this should lead us right to it.” And if the legends in the Book of Seas were true, using the comb to brush the sea would attract a mermaid who would grant them their wish for the pearl.
Engle grinned. “Let’s go, then.”
Tor carefully dipped his finger into the sack from Siren’s Wharf. A bit of dust stuck to his thumb. He pressed it to the instrument’s glass and held his breath, waiting.
If it didn’t work, they would have to rely on Vesper. She would need to hold the compass, which, according to the prophecy, would take them on a journey not all of them would survive. And, there was the Calavera captain, the Swordscale traitor, and the mysterious spectral. For all they knew, they could be hours away from finding the pearl, or even on their tail…
No, it had to work.
Tor watched the compass intently—hoping he had been right.
And its needle began to whir.
When it finally stopped spinning, it pointed directly west.
Relief almost brought him to his knees.
“We don’t need her help anymore, do we?” Melda whispered, motioning vaguely below deck toward Vesper’s room. She had gone there as soon as they had boarded. He wondered what she was doing down there. Likely speaking into that mysterious conch shell.
Tor nodded. “No, we don’t. But let’s not do anything until we’ve found the comb. And then the mermaid.” He knew the warnings. Though there were dozens of species of mermaids, according to Melda’s book, they all had one thing in common: a reputation for being wicked, deceiving creatures. The wording of their wish had to be precise, leaving no room for loopholes.
They remained on the deck for hours, watching the compass move ever so slightly. Vesper came up for food, and Tor did not take his eyes off the pirate’s instrument, even as he ate, its thin golden needle guided by an invisible force.
Every once in a while, he sprinkled bits of the statue’s powder on its glass, when the wind had all but blown it away. He led the ship the same way he had once watched giantesses lead their horses. It groaned slightly beneath him, its blue and silver sails always filled with wind, even when there was barely a breeze on his cheek.
Tor wondered why the Night Witch had ever had use of a vessel like this. Had she sailed on it hundreds of years before, when she had been just a girl and not a legend?
Had she understood the draw to the sea that Tor had always harbored in the pit of his stomach?
Soon, staring at the compass became tiring. They decided to take shifts, to ensure there was always powder on the compass. Melda and Engle were below, taking their break.
Tor had just leaned his head back against the mast when he heard a splash.
He was on his feet in an instant.
Vesper was in the water, staring up at him, as the ship passed by. “Don’t worry, I’ll catch up to you,” she said, diving deep into the water.
Tor felt a pang of jealousy. He had daydreamed about his time in the forgotten underwater city, down in depths he would never have been able to explore without his new emblem. Breathing in the sea was completely different than simply swimming in it. He wanted a thousand years just to see every inch of seafloor, to encounter every sea creature at least once.
As promised, Vesper climbed up the ship’s ladder just a few moments later, dripping a trail of water across the deck as she walked toward him. “Pity you have to be the captain,” she said. “The water’s warm.”
She sat cross-legged on the deck and wrung her hair out. “You have no idea how strange it is to do this,” she said, making a puddle beside her knee. “I’ve never had to dry myself in my life.”
“Tell me about Swordscale,” Tor said.
She dropped his gaze like a weight. “It used to be magnificent. I remember it all, as a child. It was so nice, so beautiful. Back then, we lived in harmony with mermaids.”
Tor raised his eyebrows, and Vesper gave him a sidelong glance.
“Not the type you’ve heard about. These were torrytails, not much different from you or me. They breathed underwater and had a fin, but their tails… You could see legs within them. Stuck together, but there, so similar to us. They have their own origin story, a frightening tale.” She bit her lip. “One of them was my best friend. Salma. Our fathers, they ruled Swordscale together.”
Vesper closed her eyes, and Tor was surprised to see a tear slip down her face, getting instantly lost in her silver hair.
“One day, we were attacked. My father locked me in my room to make sure I didn’t try to fight; I was too young. By the time I broke out, my parents were dead.”
Tor bowed his head, not knowing what to say. He settled with, “I’m sorry.” He remembered Vesper yelling after her grandmother, but not her parents. He should have suspected.
She shrugged. “And all of the torrytails had fled. They left and never returned. Swordscale was badly damaged, and without solid leadership, it crumbled further. Things…changed. Our rules had relaxed over the years, but leaving Swordscale again
