17
Dreamwalker
Tor, Melda, and Engle had talked until the sun came out and Captain Forecastle surfaced, frowning. “You three cost us beauty sleep,” he said. He pointed beneath his eyes, where two impressive purple rings had formed. “Just look at ’em! Look at ’em!” He hobbled over to their group, then bent down, a hand cupped to the side of his mouth. “So, we getting rid of the waterbreather?”
Melda glared at him. “I suppose second chances only apply to you then?”
Captain Forecastle straightened. “Second chances? Ye who dislike her so dearly are so quick to forgive?”
She laughed without humor. “Forgive? No. But I will admit, if she isn’t completely lying to us, I understand her.” She sighed. “I would do absolutely anything for my brothers.”
“I think she is telling the truth,” Tor said. Melda shot him a look. “The compass, when she held it, led us to Perla. I don’t think it was because she lost focus. I think it was leading us to her brother.”
Engle nodded. “Something she lost. Makes sense, I guess.”
Captain Forecastle let out a low whistle. “Another strike against her! She almost hand-delivered ye to yer enemies! Now, if it hadn’t been for our arrows…”
They had discussed it at length, finally coming to the conclusion that, good intentions or not, they could not trust Vesper. She would surely choose her brother over them, if it came to that.
Still, leaving her behind now, so far north, would be a death sentence. So they decided to proceed with caution and watch her very carefully.
“She’s staying,” Tor said.
Captain Forecastle shook his head. “Yer kindness will cost ye out here, it always does. Everyone, absolutely everyone, only cares about ’emselves.” He snorted “Might as well have a fortunetelling emblem, us! Can tell ye for certain, if ye want to predict a person’s next actions, just think of what they want most. They’ll do whatever gets ’em closer to it.” He walked away murmuring, “What if we’d been kind to the thief who nearly lopped our head off! Or the sea beast that wanted our arm?”
Tor made breakfast appear so Forecastle would stop talking. He also put a platter in Vesper’s room, expecting she wouldn’t surface.
But, surprisingly, she did, just as they finished eating.
Her face solemn, she flung open the shell charm. The map spilled to her ankles, and spread, coating the deck in color. It was only snow and ice as far as the eye could see.
“The compass changed directions,” she said, showing it to them. For days, its needle had pointed north. Now, it pointed east.
Tor looked at the map, searching for any landmarks in that direction. And he found that if they kept going, they would reach only one place.
The very northern tip of Emblem Island.
Finally—a destination.
A chill danced down Tor’s spine. “How far?”
“We’ll be there tomorrow afternoon.”
Tor nearly collapsed in relief. Melda’s arenahora was nearly out of sand. Their time was almost up. If they were going to find the pearl and save Estrelle before the ice melted, it needed to be tomorrow.
Vesper lingered. She looked like she was trying to make a decision. Tor could practically see her mind spinning behind her eyes.
Finally, she turned to Engle with a sigh. “I know you don’t trust me. But I think I can help you. As a peace offering.”
“Help him with that?” Melda said, her voice poisonous.
“His nightmares. The elixir you made will only last so long. Dreams like these don’t just go away by themselves overnight.”
Engle looked down at his empty plate. “How?”
Vesper snapped a charm off her bracelet, then made it grow in her palm. It was a star with silk string across its inside, like an instrument “This is a captura,” she said. “My mother made it for me when I was a child and enchanted it with her emblem.”
“What was her marking?” Tor asked gently.
“She was a dreamwalker. She could go into anyone’s mind as they slept, to see what they saw, and to interfere, if she wanted.”
Engle eyed the mysterious star. “This will keep me from having nightmares?”
She shook her head. “No. It simply traps your worst dreams in its strings. So a dreamwalker might visit them with you, to change them…and hopefully stop the nightmares at their source.”
“But none of us are dreamwalkers,” Melda said. There was an edge to her voice. “Unless you have a third emblem you haven’t told us about.”
Vesper sighed. It looked as if she was working very hard to keep from having another fight with Melda. “My mother enchanted it, so we might be able to use her power to go into one of his dreams. Once.” She turned to Engle. “That is, if that’s what you would like.”
Engle bit his lip, thinking. He eyed the web, then Tor. Then Melda. “Okay,” he finally said. “Will it hurt?”
Vesper shrugged. “Not physically.” She stroked the captura like playing the strings of a harp, and it created a melody, dark and melancholy. “It’s been trapping dreams this whole time, since you’ve been in proximity to it,” she said, not stopping her song. “Just close your eyes, as I find Engle’s worst. Just close your eyes, and focus on the music…”
Vesper’s voice fell away, and Tor was sucked forward, toward the captura, with a flash of wind. Part of himself had been peeled off, and he felt his body fall onto the deck behind him with a loud thump.
Then, he was spinning, skin cold as ice, his head filled with clouds and cobwebs. There was another wind, one that pulled him down, and then he landed somewhere solid, legs buckling beneath him.
When he opened his eyes, he saw himself across a body of water.
They were at the Lake of the Lost. Melda had just traded the blue color of her eyes to a goblin in exchange for use of his boat. They had just started paddling, unaware of the creatures that lurked below, circling them, readying their attack.
He heard Melda
