The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)

 

 

For a moment, all of us were quiet, but there was a sound in my ears, as though I was listening to the ocean in a seashell. The world seemed to crystallize—and was this feeling horror or awe? Cosmic chess indeed. If this was a game to him, Crowhurst was many moves ahead. Damn the man. I could not tell if I despised him more or less than I admired him.

 

“So Cook is a Navigator too, Miss Song?”

 

“I should have guessed. Crowhurst did guess.” The words were bitter in my mouth. Glaring at my father’s bookshelves, I found Cook’s biography and slammed it down on the desk. “Look at the history! He found the route to Australia and Hawaii when no one in Europe knew those places existed! He set out knowing they’d be there, and there they were. That’s what Navigation is!”

 

“But why would Crowhurst keep him here in Ker-Ys?”

 

“He wants to change the past, Kashmir! He wants to know whether or not he can prevent himself from setting out on his own journey.”

 

“How does stopping Cook teach him that?”

 

“By watching what happens to me.” I shook my head. “My mother too, and Blake, while he’s at it. We were all born in Hawaii, though none of us are native.”

 

“So he’s going to keep Cook trapped in the treasury for the rest of his life?”

 

“Just till he misses his ship.” I scanned the page, breathless. “The Friendship—that was Cook’s commission, back when he was a journeyman in 1748. That’s how he earned his captaincy. Three days . . .” I counted back on my fingers. “Tomorrow. His ship leaves tomorrow.”

 

“More than enough time.” Kashmir clapped his hands together. “You had a map to the pit, yes? We’ll go find Cook first, then gather the crew, get Dahut, and go.”

 

“But . . .” There was a strange look in Blake’s eyes—was it loss or hope? “Cook’s arrival in Hawaii led to the deaths of tens of thousands of people.”

 

Kashmir cocked his head. “And the birth of many more, Mr. Hart. You among them.”

 

“But didn’t you tell me, Miss Song? Some people think that choices create new worlds. What if both worlds could coexist?”

 

“It’s just as likely we’ll have neither,” I said. “And there’s no proof, either way.”

 

He met my gaze. “Not yet.”

 

“Blake.” Words deserted me, but Blake was bubbling over with them.

 

“You suggested it yourself! You want to take Dahut aboard and stop her story from playing out. But how do you dare, if you really think the past can’t safely be changed? Mr. Firas.” He appealed to Kashmir. “You and I both have memories of another life. I know you wonder what they mean!”

 

“I’m happy to keep wondering,” Kash said grimly. “Mystery is the spice of life.”

 

“Then you, Miss Song.” Blake’s eyes were pleading. “You told me you wanted to be more than what you inherited. I’m not asking you to risk anything I’m not risking.”

 

I opened my mouth to reply—but was he right? Was I being selfish? But then I met Kashmir’s eyes, and in them, everything I stood to lose. “It’s not just me. It’s Kashmir too. It’s my mother, my grandmother. People I love.”

 

“What about the country I love?”

 

“Let’s start by saving ourselves and Dahut. If we do, we’ll save Ker-Ys too. Maybe . . . maybe if this works, we can find a way to help Hawaii. But when the gates open next, we’re sailing, and Cook is coming with us. Are you?”

 

Blake met my eyes, and for a long moment I did not know what his answer would be. But then he looked away and pulled the sketchbook from his pocket. “We’d best try to find the pit, then.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

 

 

KASHMIR

 

Nix pondered our next move, there in the captain’s cabin. There were many pieces to consider—the ship, the crew, the princess, the pit. And the Mnemosyne water too—we would need it for Cook, according to Dahut’s diary. Once the fishermen dispersed, I slipped back over to the Dark Horse for the map of Boeotia; by the time I came back with it, she had the plan outlined.

 

She would go to the castle and gather the crew to send them to the ship. Mr. Hart and I would find the pit and rescue Cook. From there, Blake would lead James back to the docks while I went on to look for Dahut. At first, Nix had insisted she would come with me; I declined. “I prefer to sneak alone, amira.”

 

“But Kashmir—”

 

“Remember, you’re to lose me at sea. Not in a castle.” I gave her my best smile, but her face paled.

 

“I’ve been wondering about that.”

 

Her tone of voice left me cold. “What do you mean?”

 

Nix folded her arms and glanced out the deadlights, toward the sea. “Gwenolé is on her way back to the city,” she said softly. “Dahut stole the keys from the king. The end of the myth might be coming. And if Dahut opens the gate at high tide—”