Abarat. Clive Barker

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       10

       THE WATERS

      THE SEA OF IZABELLA was considerably colder than Candy had expected. It was gaspingly cold; iced-to-the-marrow cold. But it was too late for her to change her mind now. With the ball knocked out of the cup by Mischief’s bullet, the Sea of Izabella was retreating from the jetty at the same extraordinary speed at which it had first appeared. And it was carrying Candy and the John brothers along with it.

      The waters seemed to have a life of their own; several times the sheer force of their energies threatened to pull her under. But Mischief had the trick of it.

      “Don’t try to swim,” he yelled to her over the roar of the retreating seas. “Just trust to Mama Izabella to take us where She wants to take us.”

      Candy had little choice, she quickly realized. The sea was an irresistible power. So why not just lie back and enjoy the ride?

      She did so, and it worked like a charm. The moment Candy stopped flailing, and trusted the sea not to harm her, the Izabella buoyed her up, the waves lifting her so high that on occasion she caught sight of the jetty and the lighthouse. They were already very far off, left behind in another world.

      She scanned the waters looking for Shape, but she couldn’t see him.

      “You’re looking for Mr. Shape?” said John Slop.

      He didn’t need to yell any longer. Now that they were a good distance from the shore, the waves were no longer so noisy.

      “Yes, I was,” Candy said, spitting out water every five or six words. “But I don’t see him.”

      “He has a glyph,” Mischief said, by way of explanation.

      “A glyph? What’s a glyph?”

      “It’s a craft; a flying machine. Well, actually it’s words that turn into a flying machine.”

      “She doesn’t understand what you’re saying, Mischief,” John Sallow said.

      Sallow was right. Candy was completely confused by what Mischief was telling her. Words that turn into vehicles? Despite the look of incomprehension on her face, Mischief pressed on with his explanation.

      “The better you are at magic, the more quickly you can conjure a glyph. For the really expert magician, someone who knows his summonings, it can be almost instantaneous. Two or three words and you’ve got a flying machine. But it will take Shape several minutes to conjure it. He’s not a bright fellow. And if you get the conjuration wrong, it can be very messy.”

      “Messy? Why?”

      “Because glyphs get you up in the air,” Mischief said, pointing skyward. “But if they fail for some reason—”

      “You fall,” said Candy.

      “You fall,” Mischief said. “One of my sisters died in a decaying glyph.”

      “Oh, I’m sorry,” Candy said.

      “She was being abducted at the time,” he said rather matter-of-factly.

      “That’s terrible.”

      “We later found out she’d arranged it all.”

      “I don’t understand. Arranged to be abducted?”

      “Yes. She was in love with this fellow, you see, who did not love her. So she arranged to be abducted so that he would come after her and save her.”

      “And did he?”

      “No.”

      “So she died for love.”

      “It happens,” said John Fillet.

      “And what of you, lady?” said John Drowze. “Do you have any sisters?”

      “No.”

      “Brothers? Mother? Father?”

      “Yes. Yes. And yes.”

      “I don’t see you mourning the fact that you may never see them again,” John Serpent said, rather sharply.

      “Be quiet, John,” Mischief snapped.

      “She may as well hear the truth,” John Serpent replied. “There’s a very good chance she will never see her home again.”

      Something about the expression on his face suggested to Candy that he was taking pleasure in attempting to scare her. “We’re going to the Abarat, girl,” Serpent went on. “It’s a very unpredictable place.”

      “So’s the Hereafter,” Candy said, not about to be intimidated by Serpent.

      “Nothing to compare!” Serpent said. “A few tornadoes? A few poxes? Inconsequential stuff. The Abarat has terrors that will turn your hair white! That’s even assuming we reach the islands.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “I mean that Mama Izabella contains a wide variety of beasts that will have you as an appetizer.”

      “Enough, Serpent,” Mischief said.

      “Does he mean sharks?” Candy said, not wishing to exhibit too much nervousness, but already scanning the waters for a telltale dorsal fin.

      “Sharks I’m not familiar with,” Mischief replied. “But the Great Green Mantizac would certainly swallow us whole. We’re not red, you see.”

      “Red?”

      “The creatures in the Izabella leave the color red alone. That’s why all the ships and boats and ferries on the Sea of Izabella—every single one—are painted red.”

      Candy was listening to this, but in truth she was only half hearing it. The flurry of events on the jetty hadn’t given her time to properly think through the consequences of what she was doing. Now she had committed herself to the waters, and there was no way back. Perhaps she might never see her family again.

      What would it be like in the house, when the family realized that СКАЧАТЬ