Shadows Cast by Stars (36 page)

She nods.

“Madda told you?”

Helen shakes her head. “No. Do you remember that day at the store, the day you came to the Island? When I told you I knew you were coming?”

It’s my turn to nod. I had just assumed that Madda had told her.

“Sometimes I just know things. I can’t say how, exactly. Just … they pop into my head, and I know that they’ll happen. Not all the time, and not as often as when I was younger, before … well, before. But I knew about Madda. She told me not to tell you. She told me you’d try to find a way to stop it, or give yourself up in her place, or something like that.”

For several moments I can’t do anything but blink at Helen. I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “You knew,” I say again, because it’s all I can say. She knew.

Somehow that doesn’t help, and I find myself looking at a knot in the wooden tabletop so she doesn’t see my tears.

That’s when I remember the pack.

“What’s that for?” I say as I touch the stiff leather.

“You’re going on a trip. I’m coming too.”

I brush my tears away and look up at her. Her jaw is set, and even if I said no, I’m pretty sure she’d still follow. “Okay,” I say. “I’ll be glad to have you.” Though
glad
doesn’t even touch on the relief that I won’t be alone.

“You’ll need a boat,” she says.

I can’t help chuckling. “You’ve got this all planned out, don’t you?”

She shrugs. “I’ve had some time to think things through. Madda’s skiff is in the estuary. Henry’s claimed it but, well, I have the key.” She digs it from her pocket and dangles it in front of me. “Not much good to him if he can’t start it, is it?”

“You know how to pilot a skiff?” I ask.

“I helped Madda run hers during herring season,” she says. “I think I can make do.”

“We might have to go out into the strait.”

“As long as we’ve got the fuel …”

“Oh.” I hadn’t considered that. It’s one thing to steal a skiff that’s rightly ours, but fuel’s something else. “Any way around that?”

“We could siphon some from the other boats,” she suggests.

“No way. We’ll have to figure something else out.”

We pack quickly. I have no idea how long we’ll be gone. All I know is that we’re going. The rest will fall into place. I stuff the pack with sweaters, blankets, jackets, Madda’s medicine kit (I’m sure I’ll need that), and whatever food we can find in the kitchen—mostly the dreaded smoked oolichan, but it’ll have to do.

“Does Ms. Adelaide know?” I ask Helen as I lock the door.

She’s about to answer when something out in the lane catches her attention. I swing around. Cedar. He’s standing at the gate, giving us a quizzical look. “Going somewhere?”

“We’re headed to the estuary.” Which is the truth. I don’t have to tell him what comes after that.

“Hmm,” he says. “That’s a pretty long way. I could take you down there in my boat.”

I cock an eyebrow at Helen, as if to say that would save a lot of time, but I’ll leave the decision up to her.

She bites her lip and considers. I do too. Is this a good idea? Cedar has never been a friend to either my brother or Bran. What if he wants to come along? How do I explain that away? Still, a whole day of travel shaved off …

Helen takes a deep breath and nods.

“You don’t have anything else to do?” I ask Cedar.

“Nope.” He nudges a stone with his foot. “Was just coming by to see how you were feeling, that’s all. So?”

“Sure,” I say as guilt gnaws at my gut. “That’ll be great.”

He takes the pack from me. “I meant your shoulder,” he says. “It’s better?”

“Getting there.”

An awkward silence settles over us as we set off. Helen glances at me from time to time, as if trying to gauge my feelings about Cedar. Hell, half the time I don’t know how I feel about him, and that makes me wonder if I’m using him right now. Still, he offered. He wouldn’t have offered if he didn’t want to help, though it occurs to me that he never asked what we’re up to. Maybe, if he knew, he’d change his mind.

Cedar’s house is not far from town. It’s a neat blue salt-box with daisies growing up against it—definitely not what I’d imagined for him. A woman peers out the window at us, but Cedar doesn’t stop. He just picks up the pace and leads us down to the water’s edge, where his rowboat lies upside down on the shore. He flips it over, tosses the packs in, and pushes the boat out knee-deep. “Get in,” he says.

Helen takes the bow, leaving me to sit in the middle, closest to Cedar. He plunges the oars into the water and we’re away, shooting across the lake. “It’ll be a bit tricky once we get to the dam,” he says. “We’ll have to pull the boat out and portage to the river, but it’ll still save us some time.”

“What are you going to do once we get to the estuary?” I ask.

“Depends,” he says with a shrug. “You’ll have to get home somehow.”

“We might be gone for a couple of days,” Helen says.

Cedar nods, but, curiously, doesn’t ask where or why. He just keeps on rowing.

Once we’re across the lake and on shore, Cedar flips the rowboat over and heaves it onto his shoulders in one swift move. His head disappears into the ribs and when he talks, his voice sounds like it’s echoing through a tunnel. “To the west,” he says, picking his way up the beach. “There’s not much of a trail, so you’d better let me lead.”

Helen and I fall in behind the rowboat with legs. No-see-ums buzz around our heads as we hike through the dark, swampy forest. Corpse plants spring out of the loamy ground, their ghostly flowers a warning that we’re in strange territory now, and wandering too far from the path might lead us into a sinkhole full of mud.

After an hour of pushing through marsh, I hear the rush of the river. We’re soon back in the rowboat, speeding downstream. The boat glides past ancient granite outcrops that watch us pass until we reach a fork in the river. Cedar rows us up the smaller branch that leads to the wharf. Skiffs and war canoes bob on the ebbing tide. No one’s around. We paddle up to a dock and get out.

“Well,” Cedar says as he lifts his boat out of the water, “we’re here. Now what?”

“Now,” I say, “we steal a boat.”

Cedar laughs as Helen walks down the wharf and hops onto one of the skiffs. “This one’s Madda’s,” she says, grinning. “The tanks are full!”

“You’re serious,” Cedar says.

“Dead serious.” I meet his gaze. “But it’s not really stealing. Madda left the boat to us. Henry Crawford appropriated it, so really, he’s the thief.”

Cedar runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing? Helen, are you actually going along with this?”

Helen shrugs.

“Look,” I say. “You’ve got a couple of choices here. You can hightail it back and tell Henry, and by the time everyone gets here, we’ll be long gone. Or you can keep it to yourself and when we get back, well, we’ll do the explaining.”

“Or I could come with you.” He scratches his ear. “My mom saw us, remember? My dad’s in Henry’s pocket, and if he finds out that I was part of this … well, I’ll get a beating either way.” He smirks. “Might as well do something to deserve it.”

I find it incredible that anyone would beat Cedar— he’s the stockiest boy in the town—but I don’t say so. After all, Paul knocked out his tooth. He’s not invincible. “Don’t you want to know what it is we’re doing before you sign on?”

“I guess.”

Helen, standing where Cedar can’t see her, pretends to swoon. “We’re going to find Bran and Paul,” I say in my most matter-of-fact tone, even though I feel awful. Cedar would probably do anything I asked, beating or not.

Cedar’s gaze falls to his shoes. “I see.”

“We’d better get going,” Helen says. “We need to be out of the estuary before the tide changes.”

“Okay.” I step around Cedar, who’s still staring at his feet. “Coming?”

“Hell,” he mutters. “Why not? I’ve got nothing else to do.” He sighs. “Get onboard, Cass. I’ll cast off.”

H
elen steers the skiff from behind its dodger. I stand next to her, watching the gray expanse of the ocean. Cedar sits at the stern. Neither of them have asked what we’re looking for, and I’m not entirely sure myself. It’s one thing to have a raven in the spirit world show me sea wolves, but another thing entirely to head out onto the open ocean to find them, but at least I know where to start. Madda’s spirit stone is pushing into my hand like a needle on a compass. “North,” I say to Helen. “We need to head north.”

She gives me a sidelong look. “Okay. We’ll have to go east a little ways first, because of the currents. Got to conserve fuel if we want to make it back. I don’t know what Henry will be more mad about—the boat or the
gas.” She gives me a wicked smile. “Do you know how much the gas in this boat is worth?”

“Not more than Paul and Bran,” I tell her.

Her smile fades.

Gulls swoop down to keep pace with us as Helen turns the wheel. With the Island a shadow of blue far to our left, I begin to wonder if this is the stupidest idea I’ve ever come up with. I have no clue how many miles will we have to cover. How will we find them in this huge expanse of gray? Luck, fate, and mercy will all have to be on my side if we’re to spot Bran, Paul, or the sea wolves that are supposed to guide us to them. “Sea wolf” is the old name for a killer whale—orca. How, exactly, are they supposed to help, and why didn’t I think about any of this before I sent us off on this crazed mission?

The gulls mew as they wheel away and I wonder why they’ve chosen now to abandon us. What do they know that we don’t? The sight of them disappearing into the distance leaves me ill at ease.

The hours drift away. Dusk falls as we continue north. Helen rubs her eyes. “We need to find a place to camp,” she says. “It’s not safe out here after dark, not without proper night gear.”

Cedar leans into the dodger. “Over there looks pretty good,” he says, pointing toward a cove.

Helen nods and shifts gears, the whine of the engine dropping to a low thrum.

We are far from people now. If something happens to us, there’s no one to know. I should have been better prepared for this.

Helen shuts off the engine as she points the skiff toward the shore and lets it coast through the shallows, as close to the shore as the hull will allow. “Tide’s on its way out,” she says. “We’ll have to wait for it to come back in before we can leave.”

Cedar digs a fishing rod out from under a seat while I jump down into the water and wait for Helen to throw me the mooring line. “I’ll see if the salmon are biting,” he says as he straddles the rear gunwale. “You probably didn’t bring food for me.”

I hardly brought food for Helen and me, but I don’t say so. I just nod and wonder how much fresh water we’ve got as I make my way up to the shore and tie the line around a solid old stump. Helen seems to read my thoughts, and brings two empty water jugs with her. “There’ll be water here somewhere with all these maples,” she says as she points above us.

She heads off into the woods while I gather wood for the fire. Cedar has a little luck on the boat. He bludgeons something and then starts casting out again.

By the time Helen returns, the fire is going. Cedar joins us, bringing two small salmon with him. “I should have fished while we were out in open water,” he says with an apologetic shrug. “These guys are pretty small. Feel kind of bad taking them.”

“They’re great,” Helen says shyly. “Thanks.” She splits them and sets them to roast on cedar boughs, and soon we’re picking pieces off and sucking the juice from our fingers.

“How do you think you’ll find them?” Cedar asks after he sets the fish bones back to the ocean and we all give thanks.

I stare out to where the water is turning purple. “I don’t know. All I know is that we’re looking for killer whales. Where we find orcas, we find Paul and Bran.” I pull Madda’s spirit stone out from beneath my shirt. “But this seems to help too.”

Cedar whistles. “Where did you get that?”

“Long story.”

Helen’s staring at it with widened eyes, and I tuck the stone back under my shirt. She and Cedar exchange enigmatic looks. “The Elders won’t like that you’ve got it,” Helen murmurs.

“They don’t have much choice.” The spirit stone warms my skin. “And when we find what we’re looking
for, I doubt they’ll object. Besides, let them try to take it from me. We’ll see what happens then.”

The tide goes out, leaving the sea bottom exposed, a graveyard of rocks and barnacles. We light firebrands and go exploring, looking for crab hidden under the kelp. Salt and seaweed scent the air, an intoxicating perfume. Soon we’re punch-drunk on it, stumbling into tidal pools, falling into one another, giggling. Cedar stubs his toe on a barnacle and swears as Helen and I wade in the shallows. Luminescence clusters around our ankles and we take to kicking water high in the air, creating our own falling stars.

“We should go skinny-dipping,” Cedar says.

We both stop and look at him. The moon casts his face in shadows, highlighting his eye-sockets so I can see what he’ll look like when, one day, his body is lifted into the canopy of the forest to be scourged by the wind.