The Map to Everywhere by Carrie Ryan
“Believe in yourself,” Ardent said. “You’re stronger than you think you are—you always have been.” He squeezed her tighter. “You I will miss more than most.”
Marrill nodded, trying to take his advice to heart. The wizard stood, and Coll stepped into his place. He pushed a sheaf of carefully bound papers into her hands. “My sketches!” Marrill cried, recognizing them instantly.
“I had the pirats put it together—that’s real scuttlefish skin for the cover,” he told her. He paused and added, “I know what it’s like to leave a place you love and not be able to return.”
He traced his thumb along the outline of the tattoo knotted around his forearm, as though a bit uncomfortable with sharing something so personal.
“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Keep the wind at your back. And don’t ever lock your knees.”
“I won’t,” she said. She tucked the little book in her coat and gave him a huge hug. As out of character as it was, he gave her a great big squeeze back.
And then it was just Marrill and Fin. He let out a nervous cough. “Here,” he said, pressing a crystal vial into her hand. “I took it from the same safe as the Key, on the Meressian Temple Ship. I want you to have it.” He grinned sheepishly. “It’s something to remember me by.”
Tears flooded Marrill’s eyes. “Oh, Fin, I could never forget you!”
Digging into one of her pockets, she said, “I have something for you, too. I’ve been working on them for a while.” She held out two scraps of sailcloth. On each one, she’d sketched a picture of a boy with black hair and olive skin. Fin.
Underneath the image, in bold letters, she’d written:
You know this person. His name is Fin.
He’s your stowaway and friend and he
helped save the Stream.
He’s looking for his mother. Don’t forget!
Marrill
“They’re for Ardent and Coll,” she explained. “So they remember.” She lowered her voice. “I was going to make a third for the Naysayer, but I wasn’t sure you’d actually want him remembering you.”
Fin laughed, but it came out watery.
And then the ship bucked beneath them again, the storm surge retreating even farther. “If you’re gonna go, now’s the time!” Coll suggested.
The Naysayer hovered nearby, a large orange cat cradled in two of his arms. He used his other two hands to both tickle Karnelius’s ears and scratch his back. The cat purred loudly, his one eye half-closed in bliss. “Don’t know why everyone complains about the beast,” the Naysayer grumbled. “Seems contented to me. Much easier to please than humans,” he added, reluctantly holding him out to her.
With a trembling smile of thanks, Marrill took Karnelius and tucked him inside Fin’s coat, closing it tight to make sure he couldn’t escape. The Naysayer grunted and turned away, but not before Marrill saw what looked suspiciously like a tear.
Fin helped Marrill up onto the railing. He took a deep, shaky breath. “You know how to bank when the wind hits you,” he told her. She nodded. “Make sure you don’t fly straight into it, okay?” She nodded again. “And, Marrill?” He grabbed her hand and squeezed it. But all he could do was look at her and shift awkwardly.
“I know,” she whispered. “I’ll miss you, too. You’re my best friend, Fin.”
Fin nodded, choking up. He couldn’t even get the words out, but she knew what he was trying to say. And it meant the world to her.
She glanced back down at the crew one last time. It seemed impossible they’d been strangers only a few days ago. Now they felt like family.
And she was abandoning them.
Ardent stood on the deck. “Treat her right, Air!” he shouted to the sky. “Do this one thing as I ask it, and I will never command you again!”
She heard the wind first, rolling across the Stream like the sound of galloping horses and then whipping through the rigging, sending the sails flapping and the sheets popping. It was like the time her mom taught her to ride the waves on the beach in Oahu. The trick was always in the timing.
The leading edge of the breeze caught the loose hair around her face, teasing it. Karnelius flattened himself against her abdomen, tucking deeper into Fin’s jacket. When the full force of the wind hit, she didn’t panic like she had before. She simply gave herself over to it, jumping from the railing and letting it carry her home.
The last thing she saw as the waters of the Pirate Stream gleamed golden beneath her was Fin pressing his thumb to his chest, their unspoken sign for friend.
CHAPTER 43
Where You Need to Be
Marrill hit the ground running. The scorching Arizona sun beat down on the abandoned parking lot, burning against her skin. She ignored the angry cat squeezed against her chest and headed for home, her eyes blurring with tears.
It hurt too much to think about what she was leaving behind, and now that she was so close, all she could focus on was seeing her mom again. “Please let her be okay,” she whispered.
As she turned away from the strip mall parking lot, she glanced back over her shoulder. What had once been a golden lake stretching to the horizon was now nothing more than an empty expanse of asphalt with heat waves shimmering across its surface. Any trace of the Pirate Stream or the Enterprising Kraken was gone.
The loss hit her like being struck in the stomach. “It’ll be okay,” she repeated to herself as she ran. She desperately hoped it was the truth.
She was out of breath and drenched with sweat when she finally turned into her neighborhood. A cramp had formed in her side, but she didn’t slow down. Not when she was almost home.
Three streets away.
Two streets away.
One street away.
Out of habit, her eyes darted to the spot in the front yard where the FOR SALE sign used to be. Of course it wouldn’t be there, she reminded herself.
But something better was.
“Mom!” she cried.
Her mom stood by the open mailbox, staring past it forlornly into space. But the instant she heard Marrill’s voice, her head snapped up. Her eyes widened. “Marrill? Marrill, honey?”
The floodgates opened. Marrill couldn’t speak past the tears. She tore down the street and launched herself at her mom, throwing her arms around her neck. Envelopes and magazines scattered through the air as her mom grabbed her and held her tight.
“My baby,” she sobbed, her hands shaking as she clutched Marrill closer. They fell to their knees, and Marrill pressed her face against her mom’s shoulder.
Home, this was home.
She’d made it.
Something struggled between them, letting out a muffled “Mrow.” Marrill pulled back, letting a disgruntled Karnelius scrabble his way free and drop to the ground. With an audible “Hmph,” he stalked toward the front door, as if they’d scarcely been gone at all.
Marrill took the opportunity to really look at her mother. She seemed thinner. Bags sat heavy under her eyes. “Are you okay, Mom?” she asked, terrified of what the answer might be.
Her mom laughed, though it still sounded a lot like crying. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She cupped Marrill’s cheeks, her fingers trembling.
Just then a car screeched to a halt on the street. Her father threw open the door and bolted out, not even bothering to turn it off. “Marrill!” he cried, racing toward her. “You’re home!”
He skidded to his knees, pulling her into a hug and squeezing her so tight it was like being in AlleySalley’s alley all over again. Marrill had to laugh, she was so overcome with joy at being back with her family.
“Where were you? What happened?” her father asked.
Marrill hated to lie, but she knew the truth was impossible. So she told them the story she’d made up on the way home. “I got lost in the desert,” she admitted sheepishly. It wasn’t entirely untrue.
“Oh, Petal.” Her mom cupped her cheeks, searching her eyes for the truth. “We were so worried.”
&nb
And she would be okay.
Some part of Marrill would always wish she were still out on the Pirate Stream, where things like normal didn’t exist. But maybe her mother had been right. Maybe being normal would be its own kind of adventure.
CHAPTER 44
The Sign for Friend
One, two, three, push!” Fin cried. The Naysayer let out a bellow. Fin’s arms strained. The heavy trapdoor slammed closed.
“Aww, come on, bloods!” Stavik cried from beneath it. The Naysayer wiped all four hands against each other and leaned back. They could hear the rest of the pirates, trapped down with Stavik in the Kraken’s cargo hold, milled about and grumbled.
Fin knelt over the barred window on the trapdoor. “For your own good, old son,” he said. “You were all going to mutiny and take over the ship, and every single one of us knows it.”
“Yeah, but we’re pirates!” Stavik answered. “It’s not like it means we’re ungrateful!”
Fin shook his head. “Tell you what,” he said, bending over so the Pirate King could see his face clearly. “Tell me my name and we’ll let you free.”
Stavik’s eyes darted back and forth, an edge of panic creeping into them. “I… um… well…” He stuck out his tongue at an angle, concentrating. “You do look a mite familiar…”
Fin laughed. “That’s what I thought,” he said. He stood and walked away. The Naysayer lumbered off in front of him, already leaving him behind.
“Is it Bub?” Stavik cried after them. “Or Cobble? Louis-Josef? Tog the Log?”
Fin shook his head to himself as he mounted the stairs, still laughing.
“Come on!” Stavik’s voice faded behind him. “Those are common pirate names!”
Back up on deck, Fin breathed in the salt breeze and let it ruffle his hair. The storm clouds were breaking up, a swath of blue sky peering out between them. The Naysayer shuffled around muttering unpleasantries. Coll clung to a rope on the mizzenmast, one foot braced against it to hold himself just off the ground. Ardent stood nearby talking to him. The wizard looked tired, barely even waving his hands as he spoke.
When Fin approached, Ardent threw up his arms. “Naysayer!” he called. “Pirate on the loose!”
Fin sighed and pointed toward Ardent’s sleeve. The wizard looked affronted until he glanced down at the scrap of sail pinned to his robe. He had to twist his head sideways to read it.
“Name’s Fin, helped save the world, stowaway,” he mumbled as he read. He glanced between Fin and the sketch, comparing the two, then brightening once he was satisfied.
“Of course!” he cried. “Apologies, Fin. Good to see you, which I am assured I have done many times before. How goes…” He checked his sleeve again. “… your quest to find your mother? Well, that does make sense. Coll, we should help with that!”
“Right,” Coll drawled. “Because it’s not like we have any other plans, what with the Map gone and everything.”
Ardent looked pointedly at the rope tattoo knotted around Coll’s forearm. “The Bintheyr Map to Everywhere isn’t the only way to find what you’re looking for.”
Coll barked a sharp laugh and ran a thumb over the shifting ink. “No, but it sure could have helped.” He sighed. “I guess I’ll make do with what I’ve got. It’s not like I’m gonna run out of time to keep looking.”
“No, old friend,” Ardent replied. “I guess you won’t.”
Fin looked from one to the other, the wizard’s wrinkle-creased face next to the sailor’s smooth, young one. For a moment, he recognized the same wisdom—the wisdom of age—in the eyes of both of them. He hadn’t seen it before, and he wondered again just how old Coll really was.
“Well,” Coll said, clearing his throat. “What’s one more thing to add to the list of things we’re searching for?”
“Exactly!” Ardent agreed, brightening. Then he frowned. “What was it we were adding to the list?”
Fin piped up. “My mom.”
“Oh.” Ardent stared at him. “And who are you?”
Something about the question was so familiar that it didn’t even bother him. “Fin,” he reminded them, pointing to their sleeves.
“Right,” Ardent said. He didn’t look convinced.
Coll dropped to the deck in front of Fin and considered him up and down. “Got any experience sailing a ship like this?”
Fin surveyed the ship from bow to stern, taking in the Ropebone Man up in the rigging, hauling lines and adjusting sails. The pirats scampered along the yards, their collars gleaming in the sun. Beneath him the ship rolled through the waves, and Fin kept his feet wide and knees soft so that he rolled with it.
The Kraken felt more like home than his old attic ever had. Which, he guessed, made Ardent, Coll, and the Naysayer his family.
Well, maybe not the Naysayer.
“Yes, Captain. Just so happens I have experience with a ship exactly like this one,” Fin said, beaming proudly.
Coll nodded. “Well then, welcome to the crew, sailor.”
“Thanks!” Fin’s heart swelled. “That means… a lot more than you know.”
At the bow of the Kraken, Fin stared out across the golden waters of the Pirate Stream. Even with all the questions he had, he felt better. Infinite worlds lay before him, infinite possibilities. Infinite places to find his mother. To find what Ardent was looking for, and Coll.
Even though Coll and Ardent now remembered him, sort of, he wished Marrill were still here. As great as they were, they still didn’t really know him.
The afternoon sun had dropped to the horizon. Already, stars were coming out in the clear sky. His eye caught one—his star—rising into view.
And with it, a new hope flooded through him, so strong he looked to see if the Naysayer had cracked a hope crystal. But this wasn’t made by magic; it was real. He might be no one, but he was no one with a mission.
He swallowed the thought with a smile. Not no one. Even though Marrill might be gone, she had remembered him. She still remembered him somewhere. And Mrs. Parsnickle before her, even if she had forgotten eventually.
His mother’s promise had been real, Fin knew now. Someone remembered him. He could be remembered. He was someone. And somewhere out there, he was missed. He knew it, because that star was still burning for him.
A large presence waddled into view beside him. The Naysayer was stringing a line, getting ready to haul in prolly-crabs for dinner. The old lizard nearly bumped straight into him.
“Huh,” the Naysayer grunted. “Who’re you, then?”
Fin had to chuckle. It caught him off guard, starting as just a giggle. Then, before he knew it, he was doubled over, laughing hard. The Naysayer looked around like someone was playing a joke on him.
Fin wiped away his tears, letting the laughs subside. He might not know where he came from or why he was the way he was, any more than he had on the Khaznot Quay. But he was on his way. And now, he had friends, real friends, who would help him.
“Good question,” Fin said, clapping the Naysayer on one lumpy shoulder. “But I aim to find out.”
EPILOGUE
Clear blue sky stretched endlessly over the golden water of the Pirate Stream. Swift streamrunners carved happy paths through her bays and narrows, skipping through the sunshine and down the rivers and lakes and oceans and storm drains of a thousand worlds. Tall ships lifted their sails to a breeze that was sturdy but not rough, and from the Ojurdwei Coasts to the Rusting City, captains and witches and weathermen alike sucked in the fresh air and declared a good season was coming at last.
But out on the Deep Stream, one dark cloud still lingered. For days it had hung there, over the site of a great battle. Nary a ship had come near it. Not since the many-masted galleon had raced away across the storm
The surf had stilled since then, the thunderclouds broken up. One by one, they turned white and fluffy and disappeared altogether, until just this last remained. And here it sat still, bruise-purple against the bright sky, like a tombstone in a field of wildflowers.
But now, without warning, this one dark cloud rumbled and boiled. It swelled and gathered in on itself, and turned darker still. The placid water beneath it kicked up into waves. The waves broke into whitecaps. Had a soul been present, they might have felt their skin crawl, their hair stand on end. They might have smelled the burning of the air.
As the waves reached a fever pitch, the cloud turned blacker than night. From deep within, a single bolt of lightning, blood red, ignited its darkness. Flames danced across the water. The air cracked open with a cacophony like the end of the world.
Where the flames spread out, the Stream turned to molten metal. And out of that metal, forming from it, a hand appeared, a blazing hand reaching toward the sky. It grasped at the air like a horseman pulling up on his reins, and a ship’s prow leapt up with it, the molten metal given shape in an instant.
Rivers of raw magic poured over gunwales of cold iron. The shadows on her deck took life and jumped to action, raising her chain mail sails, hauling her barbwire ropes, straightening the rudder that cut like a razor through the Pirate Stream.
In mere moments, the Iron Ship rode the waves once more.
At her helm, her Master stood calm, arm raised. The waters of the Stream ran off him. Any normal man in his place would be a bug, or an explosion, or a cloud of gas shaped like the number three and tasting slightly of chili pepper and earthworm. But if the Stream’s power affected him, he did not show it.
From head to toe, metal cloaked him. The only signs that he lived at all were the cold blue eyes that peered out from behind a smooth steel mask, and the thick white beard that escaped beneath his chin.