The Ship Beyond Time (The Girl from Everywhere #2)
By: Heidi Heilig
It was hard not to hurry, even though I knew that time was not passing in Ker-Ys. I took careful steps on a meandering path around scree and scrub, my eyes half on the shifting ground, and half on my surroundings. Where was Crowhurst? If he was nearby, he must have seen the dust and the gravel of my dramatic arrival, but although there was no cover on the mountainside, I could not see him anywhere.
Perhaps I would not see him. Perhaps he’d only seen me and run. Part of me hoped so as I made my way down the rocky slope.
But why was I afraid of him? When had he begun to loom so large in my thoughts? Here and now, at the beginning of our story, I might finally know more than he did.
The sun rode heavy on my shoulders; I bent under the weight of it, like Atlas under the pillar of the sky. Sweat trickled down my neck and burned in the raw skin on my palms as I slid and stumbled to the bottom, dust still rising around me. Finally I reached the shade of the trees, and the cool air felt like forgiveness.
I slipped between the twisted silver trunks, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim. The thin light shivered in the leaves above my head, and the earth here was sewn with roots and studded with acorns. My feet fell softly on the loam, and I could smell the water, clean as mint.
I heard it too, now, the bubbling of a spring. My steps quickened as I flitted from tree to tree, searching the shadows, but I saw nothing until the trees thinned. There, in a sunny clearing scattered with poppies, the pools gleamed in tiered basins of natural limestone. Between them, the dark maw of the cave gaped black. Crowhurst knelt beside it, dipping his flask into the pool on the right.
Dahut was on the ground beside him.
I hadn’t expected to see her, and certainly not like this. She was trussed hand and foot, her cheek against the grass, and as I stared, her own eyes widened. “Help!” she cried. “Help me!”
“Quiet!” Crowhurst whirled, and I pressed myself against the rough bark of a bent oak. Had he seen me? No—I heard his footsteps, hesitant, searching, a few steps one way, and then the other.
“There’s someone there,” Dahut said, her voice ragged. “A girl.”
“Where?”
“She’s coming,” Dahut said, like a threat. “Help me!”
“No one’s bloody coming!”
“She’s right there!”
I shuddered like a fish on a line. Would she give me away? I risked a glance, but Dahut was staring into the woods in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, Crowhurst plunged into the trees on the other side of the clearing, crushing leaves beneath his feet. His footsteps grew fainter by the moment, but my heartbeat was so loud that I very nearly didn’t hear Dahut whispering. “Please help.”
Could I save her now? If I took her from him, she’d never make his maps. Would it prevent my fate or unmake my reality? I still didn’t know the answer, but I couldn’t just leave her there. Trying to move quietly, I rushed to her side. Beside me, the pools shone like crystal in the sun; cool air flowed from the dark grotto. “I’ve got you,” I said softly, and she started crying.
I plucked at the ropes. They were clearly tied by a sailor, tight and secure—I wished for a knife as I dug my raw fingers into the knots at her ankles. “Are you going to take me home?” she whispered then.
I froze. Had she sipped yet from the Lethe? “Where is home, to you?”
“Raispur. Please keep working,” she added. I redoubled my efforts on the knots, my heart beating faster.
“That’s in Ghaziabad,” I said, my mind racing. “In India?”
“You’ve been there?”
“It’s where Crowhurst was born.”
She shuddered. “What’s wrong with him?”
“He’s mad,” I said, but was it true? If he was, so was my father—and so was I. But it didn’t matter. I tugged on the last knot; it was loose now. “Almost done. Tell me more about your family.”
“My father works for the railroad. My mother—” Her voice broke on the word. “She does mehndi for brides.”
“What are their names?” I said urgently. “Give me an address!”
But she did not answer. Her eyes went wide, and I knew what I’d find when I whirled around. “Crowhurst.”
He was breathing hard from his run through the woods, and his suit was stained at the knees. Other than that, he looked very nearly the same as he did in his future, in my past. His hair was just a touch shorter, but that was the only difference—or was it? Something in his eyes was different too, something hollow and lonely—a brokenness he had not yet mended or hidden.
Poppies swayed at our feet, and bees zipped in lazy circles around us. Behind me, Dahut kicked against her bindings, the knots growing looser still. Could she get free? Could we stop him now, before it all began? Crowhurst watched me; I could almost hear his own thoughts churning. “How do you know my name?”
How much to tell him? I clenched my fists, my hands still smarting. “We’ve met. Or we will. I’ve come to warn you—to tell you not to go to Ker-Ys.”
“Ker-Ys?” He frowned. “Where’s that?”
“A drowned city, from a French myth . . .” My voice trailed off—had I just planted the idea in his head? I bit down on a curse. What could I say to stop him? If Lin could make up fortunes, so could I. “If you go there, you’ll die.”