"Of course. That's why I came to you."
"Take a look at that bear in the corner, would you?"
Ella walked over to the white bear, looking up at the jagged teeth lining its open mouth.
Barnabas suddenly spoke an activation sequence. Somehow, Ella knew it; she'd heard it before.
The bear's huge paw moved, taking a swipe at Ella's head.
Ella spoke without thinking.
"Taun-tah!"
The bear was still.
Barnabas chuckled. Ella was perplexed. The bear hadn't been brought back like she had brought back the woman earlier that day. It was just a stuffed bear.
She stepped back and examined the bear again. Now that she was looking, she could see symbols on the fur, faint but unmistakeable. This wasn't the lore of the Akari.
Ella turned to Barnabas, shocked. "You were using animator's runes!"
Barnabas nodded. "All of the great masters are those who figure out how to merge runes from the different schools together. I needed to see if you were ready."
The old man put down his empty mug and looked at Ella out of his one good eye. She could see he was treating her differently now.
"The limbs of an old body can't move themselves anymore, they don't have the strength. Animator's runes are required, just like a golem."
"What about the mind?"
"The mind is different. It can never be fully restored. Our lore is not a way to achieve eternal life. If you are looking to bring back a loved one, then I have bad news for you."
"No," Ella said. "That's not it."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Aldrik told you the problem, about what happens when the mind snaps?"
Ella gulped. "Yes."
"Then perhaps you are ready. But first things first. We need to agree a price."
"What do you want?"
The old Akari put his feet up on a stool and kicked off his slippers. "It's my birthday," Barnabas said. "I'd like a foot rub."
Killian had better appreciate this, Ella thought.
Sighing, she knelt down next to the old man's feet.
16
MIRO and Amber had made it to the Ochre Isles. Weakened, worried, stranded far from home, they had little cause to celebrate.
They slept that first night on the floor of the longboat, a deep sleep of exhaustion with a piece of canvas used to ward off the night's chill. As it grew light, Miro woke first, leaving Amber to rest while he exited and took stock of their situation.
They had drawn the longboat up on a short sandy beach. Small waves knocked against the shore, while in the distance the barrier reef was outlined by breakers. Flotsam lined the shore: planks of wood, barrels, and even clothing. There were no bodies.
Miro stretched his arm, looking at the wound he'd taken on his side. Fortunately it had crusted over and was already healing. He gazed out at the reef, shielding his eyes from the rising sun, but the Delphin was gone: broken up, scattered and sunk. He felt the sand crunch beneath his bare feet as he walked down to the water and scanned for anything worth salvaging. Miro began to carry anything undamaged above the high water mark. Two barrels were filled with seawater, their contents lost, but another three were still sealed tight. He grunted as he lifted each barrel and struggled with it before fetching the next.
When he was done, he reached into the longboat and took the cutlass in his hand. They needed to see if the island was inhabited, and Miro wasn't taking any chances.
His movements woke Amber. "Where are we?" she asked as she sat up.
"The Ochre Isles," Miro said grimly. He watched remembrance dawn in Amber's eyes.
"The ship," she said. "Did anyone survive?"
"No. I've saved some barrels that washed up on the shore, but that's all. We're out of danger for now, but we need to think about supplies. Can you tell me what we managed to take in the longboat?"
Amber rummaged around. She used the axe to pry open each of the barrels they'd taken with them. "Four barrels, all with fresh water. This axe. Three sets of oars. A square of canvas. Two lengths of rope, one longer, one shorter. That's it."
Miro went to the first of the three barrels he'd picked up from the shore. He used the hilt of his cutlass to open the lid, and then made a pleased sound. "This one has dried fruit." He opened the next. "Oats." Miro dug his hand into the oats. "They're good." The last barrel's lid was stuck, but he finally levered it open. "More water."
"Plenty of water, plus dried fruit, and oats," Amber said. "We were lucky."
"Yes," Miro said, remembering his sense of helplessness when they'd been at the mercy of the mutineers. "We were."