“‘Here be dragons.’ It's what sailors used to write on maps five hundred years ago, when the map ended but the ocean didn't.”
“I'd rather face dragons than Sarafine.” I looked at the place where Liv was tapping her finger. The web of Tunnels we had come from was as complex as any highway system. “So what now?”
“I'm out of ideas. I've done nothing but stare at this map since your aunt gave it to us, and I still don't know how to get to the Great Barrier. And I don't even know if I believe it's a real place.” We stared at the map together. “I'm sorry. I know I've let you down — everyone, really.”
I traced the outline of the coast with my finger until I came to Savannah, where the Arclight had stopped working. The red mark for the Savannah Doorwell lay just beneath the first L in L O C A S I L E N T I A. As I stared at the letters and the red marks around them, the missing pattern slowly surfaced. It reminded me of the Bermuda Triangle, some kind of void where everything magically disappeared. “Loca silentia doesn't mean ‘where the map falls silent.’ ”
“It doesn't?”
“I think it means something more like radio silence, for a Caster anyway. Think about it. When did the Arclight stop working the first time?”
Liv thought back. “Savannah. Right after we” — she looked at me, blushing — “found everything in the attic.”
“Exactly. Once we entered the territory marked Loca silentia, the Arclight stopped guiding us. I think we've been in a sort of supernatural no-fly zone, like the Bermuda Triangle, since we moved south of there.”
Liv looked slowly from the map to me, working it out in her mind. When she finally spoke, she couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. “The seam. We're at the seam. That's what the Great Barrier is.”
“The seam of what?”
“The place where two universes meet.” Liv looked at the dial on her wrist. “The Arclight could've been on some kind of magical overload this whole time.”
I thought about Aunt Prue showing up when she did — and where she did. “I bet Aunt Prue knew we needed the maps. We had just entered the Loca silentia when she gave them to us.”
“But the map stops, and the Great Barrier isn't on it. So how is anyone supposed to find it?” Liv sighed.
“My mom could. She knew how to find it without the star.” I wished she were here right now, even a ghostly vision of her made from smoke and graveyard dirt and chicken bones.
“Did you read that in her papers?”
“No. It was something John said to Lena.” I didn't want to think about it, even if the information was useful. “Where are we again, according to the map?”
She pointed. “Right there.” We had reached the long curving line that followed the inlets of the southern shore. Caster connections wove their way together and apart until they met at the edge of the water like nerve endings.
“What are these little shapes? Islands?” Liv chewed on the end of her pen.
“Those are the Sea Islands.”
Liv leaned over me. “Why do they look so familiar?”
“I've been wondering that, too. I thought it was from staring at the map for so long.”
It was true. I knew those shapes, curving in and out like a group of lopsided clouds. Where had I seen them before?
I pulled a handful of papers — my mother's papers — out of my back pocket. There it was, tucked between pages. The sheet of vellum covered with a strange Caster design that looked like weird clouds.
She knew how to find it, without the star.
“Hold on —” I slid the vellum on top of the map. It was like tracing paper, thin as an onion skin on Amma's cutting board.
“I wonder …” I slipped the translucent sheet into place over the map, the outlines of each shape on the vellum lining up perfectly with the shape on the chart beneath it. Except for one, which materialized in a sort of ghostly silhouette, only appearing when the partial outline of the map grid met the partial outline of the vellum. Without both the vellum and the map, the lines looked like meaningless scribbles.
But when you held them just right, it all came together, and you could see the island.
Like two halves of a Caster key, or two universes stitched together for one common purpose.
The Great Barrier was hidden in the middle of a Mortal coastal chain. Of course it was.
I stared at the ink on the page, and beneath it.
There it was. The most powerful place in the Caster world, appearing through pen and paper as if by magic.
Hidden in plain sight.
6.20
No One's Son
The door itself wasn't that unusual.
Neither was the Doorwell leading up to it, or the curving passage we had followed to find our way here. Twist after turn through corridors built from crumbling rocks and dirt and splintering wood. This is what tunnels were supposed to feel like — damp and dark and tight. It was almost like the day Link and I followed a stray dog into one of the runoff tunnels in Summerville.
I guess the strangest thing was how ordinary everything seemed, now that we had figured out the secret to the map. Following it was the easy part.