The Complete Ingo Chronicles: Ingo, The Tide Knot, The Deep, The Crossing of Ingo, Stormswept. Helen Dunmore

about breathing. Faro doesn’t have to tell me I’m safe, because I know it all through my body. Every cell of me knows that the sea is full of oxygen and it’s streaming into my blood without my needing to breathe air. I am safe, in Ingo.

      I squint down at my legs and wonder what it would be like if they joined together and the join fused and the skin grew strong and thick and dark, like seal skin. I wouldn’t be able to walk any longer, up in the Air. Walking would hurt, and I’d have to drag myself over the stones. But I would be completely at home here in Ingo. How would a tail look on me? How would it feel? For a second the pressure of the current seems to grow stronger, grasping my legs and pushing them together, as if they were truly joined.

      Like this, I think. If my legs fused into a tail it would feel a bit like this. And then I’d be—

      Faro is humming a song and I know every word:

       I wish I was away in Ingo

      Far across the briny sea,

      Sailing over deepest water…

      “Faro, how do you know that song?” I ask cautiously. I don’t want Faro to guess how important the song is to me.

      “I must have heard it somewhere,” says Faro lightly. But I can tell from his face that he’s hiding something. There’s a glint in his eye, teasing, daring me to ask more.

      “I think you do know where you heard it, Faro. Who sang it to you?”

      “I can’t remember.”

      “Try. Please.”

      Faro looks thoughtful, but after a while he repeats, “No, it’s gone. I can’t remember.”

      I abandon caution. “You can! You’ve got to tell me!”

      “Have I?” He flips over and turns to face me. “Why should the Mer tell you anything, Sapphire? Do you know what Air People do to us Mer?”

      His eyes glower, his expression is fierce. The Faro I thought I knew has vanished from his face. I shrink back.

      “I’ll tell you what you do. You send ships with nets that scrape every living thing from the ocean floor. You crush the coral and destroy the secret places where life begins. Our gardens that we lay and watch are ruined. You rip up the life of Ingo and you don’t even want it once you’ve wrecked it. You throw most of it away. You trap dolphins in your nets until they drown. You hunt for whales. You slash the fin off a shark and leave it to flounder in its own blood. You pour dirt into Ingo from pipes. You choke us with oil and cover the seabirds’ feathers with filth until they can’t swim or fly.

      “You teach gulls to feast on rubbish instead of fish, until they’re full of disease. And anyway you’ve taken the fish for yourselves. You steal our shore places and fill them with buildings so that Ingo can’t breathe. You would build on the sea if you could, wouldn’t you? You’d catch the Mer and take us away and put us in glass tanks in circuses. Don’t ask me how I know, Sapphire. I understand what the gulls say, remember? Gulls go everywhere. They see everything. They tell us what they see. You humans want everything to belong to Air, not to Ingo. But Ingo is strong. Stronger than you know.”

      “But Faro, I don’t! I didn’t! I didn’t do any of that! I’ve never—”

      His face relaxes, just a little. He seems to see me again. Me, Sapphire, instead of an enemy he hates.

      “I’ve never tried to hurt you,” I say. It sounds pathetic, even to me. The things Faro says strike heavy in my heart, and I know that they are true. I’ve heard of dolphins drowning in tuna nets, and tankers releasing thousands of tonnes of oil into the sea. I’ve seen seabirds on TV, coated with oil and struggling in the water until they die. And layers of dead, gaping fish on the tide line. What would it be like if oil swilled out of a tanker now, and coated our lips and our tongues and burned our eyes? Would it kill us too? Yes, it would cover us and we would choke to death.

      “You think you haven’t done anything to us,” says Faro, more quietly. “But you’re still part of Air, Sapphire.”

      “No, I’m not! I’m—” I break off because Faro is watching me so intently. Why? What is he waiting for? There’s a pressure in my mind, as if someone else’s thoughts are beating against mine.

      “Faro, don’t!”

      “Don’t what? I’m not doing anything.” He looks surprised.

      “Aren’t you trying – you know, to see my memories?”

      “No. Why do you say that?”

      “It’s as if there’s something else inside my mind. It’s pressing on me. It wants to come out. I can feel it but I can’t quite tell what it is.”

      “Ah,” says Faro. His breath comes out in a long sigh. “I know that feeling. Haven’t you had it before? Don’t you really know what it is?”

      “No.”

      “It’s you. It’s yourself. But it’s another part of you, a hidden part that you don’t know about.”

      “That sounds crazy.”

      “No, it’s not crazy. But it’s… difficult. Don’t think about it now, Sapphire. Think about something else.”

      “Faro,” I try to speak calmly and quietly. “That song you sang. Have you ever heard of my father?”

      “Yes,” says Faro immediately. He’s still watching me closely. “You mean Mathew Trewhella.”

      He knows my father’s name. Or did I tell him? I can’t remember.

      “How do you know his name?”

      “I told you. We hear things. We know a lot about humans when they live close to us. He was always out in his boat.”

      “Have you ever seen him?”

      There’s a pause, and then Faro says, “Yes.”

      “When?”

      “I can’t remember. Not long ago.”

      But time for Faro isn’t the same as human time. Not long ago could be months – or years—

      “Where was it?”

      But Faro shakes his head. “No. It’s gone.”

      “But it’s important, Faro! You must try to remember.”

      “I can’t. It’s gone.”

      “Is there anyone, anyone at all who you think would know what happened to him? Anyone here in Ingo, I mean?”

      Faro shakes his head. A ripple of movement runs through his body and down into his tail. Faro says no with his whole body, not just his voice. His hair sways like fronds of seaweed.

      “Leave it, Sapphire,” he says. “I’ve nothing to tell you. I saw him in his boat once, that’s all. Let’s get out of this current and go back south. I want to feel the sun.”

      Even though questions burn in my mind, I have to let them go. But I won’t forget them. If Faro can’t give me the answers, I’ll search until I find someone who can.

      We slip out of the current like eels. Outside it, the sea is cold. How far are we from home?

      “Not very far,” says Faro. “That was a slow current. We’ll catch a faster one back.”

      We swim through the cold dark sea. We’re in mid-water, Faro says, which means we are between the sea bed and the surface. The water is so deep I can’t see the bottom.

      “If we were up on the surface, we wouldn’t be able to see land,” says Faro. “Keep your eyes open. Now, Sapphire, see that current there? That’s the one we want.”

      It’s a cold current this time, and it settles itself around us like an icy, prickling