Ghost Ship (2 page)

The basket lifted again and disappeared from sight.

Sssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
.

Up it went. Asa breathed. Rollo lifted his head. She put her finger to her lips to remind him to stay quiet a little longer.

Then the hissing began once more. The balloon was withdrawing, taking off over the sunken kingdom, searching elsewhere for traitors and royalists.

Rollo smiled. “It’s gone.”

“Let’s get home,” Asa said, standing on shaky legs.

“I wasn’t really afraid,” Rollo said with a grin.

“Yes, you were.”

“No, I wasn’t.”

They emerged into the pale morning light and Asa led the way home.

Asa and Rollo lived with their aunt Katla at Two Hills Keep. Although the Keep looked like a tiny cottage built of mud and grass, it was actually far larger and concealed an underground maze of secret rooms. The King and Queen had it built when Asa was born, just in case their children were ever in danger and needed to hide. It came into view above the rise. Wildflowers grew over the grassy walls and a drooping tree disguised it almost entirely. In the year since Emperor Flood had killed their family and taken over the land, he had never managed to find them here.

“Who’s that?” Rollo said, pointing across the field.

Asa noticed it at the same time: an old man with his left arm pinned to his chest paced near the front entrance of the Keep.

“I don’t know,” she said warily, slowing her pace.

Rollo pulled up. “What if he’s a spy?”

Asa didn’t know what to do. She had never seen the strange man before, but he looked like he was waiting for them.

At that moment, Katla emerged and spotted them. She beckoned anxiously. “Come quickly, children,” she called. “You have a special visitor.”

The children hurried over as the old man turned to watch them. Asa didn’t like his steely eyes, his hooked nose, or the cruel set of his mouth. Something about him made her skin prickle. A cool gust of morning air shivered over her. The wound on her hand had begun to throb lightly.

“Asa, Rollo,” Katla said stiffly, “I want you to meet Egil Cripplehand.” Katla glanced at him nervously, then back to the children. “He has news of your sister.”

“Una?” Rollo said, puzzled.

The stranger fixed him with a stony gaze. “She’s alive,” he said. “Your sister is alive.”

Egil Cripplehand wouldn’t say another word until they were safely in the Keep, and Rollo was so curious he thought he would burst. Katla led them inside, past all the old wooden furniture and dried fish hung in rows. Rollo’s pencil drawings from last night were still spread out on the table, and the smoky scent of the fire was strong in the room. Asa helped Katla move the table and roll up the rug under it—to reveal the trapdoor to
the Keep itself. They inched down the narrow staircase and found a place in the corner stateroom, where all of King Sigurd’s books were stored. Egil sat on the shelving stool. By the light of a flickering candle, the children settled on the chairs next to him, puzzled and hopeful.

Katla bustled in and out, clucking anxiously about the cut on Asa’s palm. Worry was etched on her usually smiling round face.

Egil took his time, staring for long seconds—first at Asa, then Rollo. Not even the hint of a smile touched his thin lips, and Rollo had to admit he was frightened of the old man.

“I have searched for you children for nearly a year,” he said at last. The candlelight made eerie, shifting shadows on his craggy face. “I was sent by your parents, when they were on their way to … their fate.”

Rollo felt Asa stiffen next to him. Egil was talking about the night his mother and father were murdered.

“You spoke to them?” Asa said.

Egil nodded once, deeply. “I did.”

“What did they say?” Rollo asked.

“I can tell you this: their last thoughts were of you and your sister.”

“So Una wasn’t with them?” Asa asked. “When they were killed?”

“No. At the last moment, the witch princess Margritt, Flood’s half sister who despises him, stole the little babe and took her to her castle in the north.”

“Is she well?” Rollo asked. “Can we see her?” He remembered Una’s tiny, soft fingers and her sweet, gummy smile. He loved his baby sister so much and thought of her every night when he went to sleep. In his dreams he saw them all—his mother, his father, and Una—as though the flood had never come and his happiness had never been washed away with the mighty tide.

“Silence, child,” Egil said sternly. “Listen to the whole tale. It will all become clear.

“I was working as a jailer when Flood first brought your parents in. I suppose Flood thought that a creature like me, so used to living underground at the dungeons
in the company of thieves and traitors, would have a heart as black as his own. But he was wrong. King Sigurd was kind to my mother when I was just a babe. Her own family had thrown her out, and we would have starved without his generosity. I grew up believing I owed my life to King Sigurd, and no matter how many gold pieces Flood gave me, my loyalty could not be bought.

“The night before the King and Queen’s execution, I slipped into their cell to promise them a final wish. Alas, I could not set them free. After Una’s disappearance, Flood’s spies were thick near the entrance to the dungeons. So King Sigurd, your father, charged me to seek you out, to tell you about Una, and to give you all you need to find her.”

“Find her?” said Rollo. “We have to
find
her?”

“Now listen,” Egil said. “And no more interruptions. You know that Flood was once your father’s court sorcerer, but did you know there was another? A secret sorcerer named Ragni, whom your father trusted and loved well.”

Asa and Rollo exchanged curious glances. They thought they knew everyone who had lived at the Sea Palace before the flood.

“No, I’ve never heard of him,” Rollo said.

Egil nodded, his grim face set hard. “Ragni suspected Flood of mischief, and he put into place some insurance. In case the worst happened—and, as we all know, it did. Do you remember the night of the masked ball?”

Rollo nodded, remembering the great hall of the Sea Palace decorated with shimmering gold and red ribbons. That night, the dukes and duchesses from every principality had come in their fine costumes. Music had echoed around the dark wooden beams and the fires had glowed hot. The magic tricks were marvelous and the ice cream so creamy and sweet that he’d eaten too much. It was the last party before the flood.

“Then you’d remember the magic tricks of the jester? The tall man in blue and gold?”

“The one with the doves?” Asa said, wincing as Katla cleaned her wound with stinging squid-balm. “He was wonderful. The way he made himself disappear behind that silver cloth!”

“Do you remember that, before he disappeared, he cast upon you three children a cloud of golden dust?”

The children nodded, and Asa said, “The dust stayed in my hair for two days. I couldn’t brush it out.”

“That magician was Ragni,” Egil said. “The dust was enchanted.”

“What do you mean?” Rollo said, growing excited. “He
enchanted
us?”

Egil paused for a moment, scratching under his chin. The sound of his fingernails rubbing his beard stubble was loud in the expectant silence.

“Yes,” he said at last. “Ragni gave you magic powers.”

Asa gasped. Katla dropped the squid-balm and the jar rattled on the cold flagstones.

“What kind of magic powers?” Rollo spluttered.

Egil pointed a bony finger at Asa. “You can change into a raven at will. You only have to close your eyes and say, ‘Wings of a raven upon me.’ ”

Now he pointed at Rollo, who almost couldn’t take a breath, he was so excited.

“You can breathe underwater,” Egil said. “Close your eyes and say, ‘Breath of a fish within me,’ and you’ll never drown.”

Breathe underwater? Unbelievable! Impossible! Wonderful!

“And Una, when she’s old enough to speak,” Egil continued, “will be able to understand any language, whether it’s the language of men or birds or sea giants.”

Rollo’s heart was bursting. He turned to Asa and saw the gleam in her eyes.