Читать книгу The Crossing of Ingo - Helen Dunmore - Страница 12

The cove is brimful of tide. No jumping down from the rocks on to clean pale sand tonight. “We’ll have to climb right out over the rocks until we’re sure we’re above deep water,” whispers Conor. I don’t know why we’re whispering, but we are, and we don’t call for Faro either. He may not be the only one of the Mer who is watching and waiting for us tonight.

The rocks are sharp and slippery. The starlight is strong enough to guide us as we lower ourselves into gullies then climb the steep rocky sides of the cove. We need to go right out, almost to the cove’s mouth. I follow Conor, reaching for handholds, and fitting my feet into the rock’s crevices. He hasn’t switched on the torch since we left Gloria Fortune’s cottage.

“Face the rock and let yourself go down backwards,” he whispers. “I’ll go first.” I glance down. In the starlight I can see Conor’s outline pressed against the rock. He lowers himself carefully, and then lets go and slides to the next foothold. The rock slopes at about forty degrees here. It looks dangerous. It is dangerous. If Conor slips too far he won’t fall in the water, he’ll fall on rock. But once he’s down, there’s a ledge above a sheer drop. It’ll be safe to dive from there.

“I’m down. Come on,” he calls softly.

I turn to face the rock, and press against it as Conor did. My fingers dig into a narrow crevice. I let go of my safe fingerhold and let myself slide. There’s no foothold or handhold. I scrabble desperately, my jaw cracks against the rock, I bite my tongue. But my foot jars against a spur of rock. I’m not sliding any more.

Foothold, slide. Handhold, slide. Suddenly, with a jolt, both my feet hit rock and Conor’s hand is behind my back, steadying me. “You’ve made it, Saph. You’re on the ledge. Turn round slowly.”

I shuffle my feet around cautiously, and turn to face outwards. At that moment the moon rises behind the curve of the cliff. First the rim, then the broad curve, then the whole moon floats free, lighting up the cove so brilliantly that it seems as if day has come. Below us the sea bulges, black and oily looking. There is hardly any wind, but a big swell. The water breaks as it enters the cove, slapping against the rocks with a hollow boom.

For the first time in my life I’m afraid of the sea. Even when the Tide Knot broke, the fear was different. Then, the sea came out of its bed, out of its element, and tried to take over the land. It was natural to be afraid. But this is different. It feels as if the sea is prowling below our ledge, waiting for us.

How I wish Faro would come. The fingers of my right hand have gone to my bracelet. I touch the deublek made of our woven hair. Of course Faro will come. We have to go to the Assembly chamber together.

The water is empty. No Faro. In two nights I shall be here for you. Faro has never broken his word to me. Something must have prevented him. Maybe the wound on his tail was more serious than he thought.