Fear the Drowning Deep(75)

Morag hurriedly skimmed the wrinkled paper. “According to this, serpents come from trenches. Yawning caverns on the ocean floor seemingly without end.”

This sounded rather far-fetched, even after everything I’d learned over the summer. “Everything has an end—”

“Not necessarily.” Morag frowned. “Men build boats, they drop anchors and cast fishing lines, but all they do is skim the surface. Maybe some wonder what’s in the deep, far beyond their reach, but none of them know, and they never will.” Her frown deepened. “For most of them, the truth would shatter their narrow minds.”

I hugged the poison jar to my chest and glanced at the path. “I’ll remember that. Now I must go, and so should you, before Mr. Gill turns up with his rifle.”

Morag nodded. She grabbed a ratty cloak and a lantern. “I’m coming with you. I may not be able to go near the water, but there must be something I can do.” There was an urgent note in her voice I’d never heard before. “I owe it to you, and to your grandfather.”

“My grandfather? You mean Grandad?”

“Not him.” Morag tucked her braids into her hood. “I mean your mam’s father.” She paused, her eyes glistening. “He stole my heart when I was just a girl of thirteen.”

I dug my toes into the mud, trying to digest this startling detail. “Look, Da and Liss need me.” I offered Morag my arm. “Walk with me toward the harbor, but keep your voice down.” Morag slipped her frail arm through mine.

She kept a steady pace, bumping my side when the road dipped unexpectedly. “I admired Turner—your grandfather—from a distance for years. And after a sickness claimed everyone in my family but me, Turner’s parents took me in. That’s just the kind of people they were, the sort who never knew a stranger.”

She smiled at something I couldn’t see. “We were always friends, never sweethearts, no matter how I tried to get his attention. He fell for another girl in town. She had eyes like yours, and a voice sweeter than dolphin-song. For years, I believed I could change his mind.”

“And did you?” I guided us off the road, casting anxious glances at the lit windows of nearby houses.

“No. But by the time I realized I couldn’t capture his heart, I’d grown accustomed to living alone.” The farther we went, the more Morag relied on me to steady her. My arm went numb from the pressure.

“Your grandfather provided for me after the serpent nearly took my foot, and when he died, I wanted to be left alone more than ever. But children harassed me. They threw rocks at the windows in the middle of the night. Left rubbish on my lawn. Shouted nasty things at me when I went into town.” Her chin trembled, and we walked in silence for a while. “That’s why I started the rumors that I was a witch. To frighten them away.”

“I understand wanting to be left alone when it comes to people like Mr. Gill,” I whispered, steering us into the cover of trees. “But we aren’t all horrible. And I know you love Mam, even if you didn’t like my gran.”

Morag released my arm and paused beside a tree, breathing hard. “I know they aren’t all bad. Why do you think I’ve been making the Bollan Crosses?” She tugged on her cloak hood, using it to shield her eyes from the driving rain. “I’ve loved your mam from the moment she was born, just as I loved your grandfather. Just as I care about you—you have the same color hair as him, did you know?” A ghost of a smile crossed her face, quickly vanishing. “I want to help save your sister, however I can.”

I considered Morag for a moment, trying to imagine how she would fare in the water with her ruined foot if whatever boat we borrowed suddenly capsized. There was no way she could swim.

“Can you rescue Fynn for me?” I had no hope of freeing him myself, not when I needed to get to Liss as quickly as possible. If there was ever a time I needed a little magic, it was now, though Morag had made it clear she didn’t do spells. “He’s probably locked in a room at the Gills’ house for now.”

A gust of wind blew Morag’s hood off, but her face broke into a smile as she handed me the lantern. “I may have lost my nerve long ago, but I’ve never met a lock I couldn’t undo.” She tugged on something in her cloak pocket, and produced a jumble of rusty keys.

I hesitated. “If those don’t work …” I was asking her to do something immensely difficult and dangerous, yet Morag merely smiled.

“They’ll work.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“Magic.” Her smile widened, even as I blinked a question at her. “There’s a kernel of truth in some rumors. Remember that. I’ll find the boy and free him.”

There was no time to ask the many questions suddenly on the tip of my tongue. And even if there were, I doubted Morag would answer a single one.

“Thank you,” I managed, pushing the questions to the back of my mind for Liss’s sake. “Tell Fynn where I’ve gone.” I adjusted my grip on the rain-slicked poison jar. “And Morag?” She met my gaze, her eyes blazing with unearthly light. “Take care, won’t you?”

“I will if you will, Apprentice Bridey. Remember, the serpent can make you imagine terrible things. Don’t trust everything you see. And check the caves along the cliffs first. As that page in your hand says, serpents like to make their nests in sea caves. Besides, if it ate recently, it may be saving your sister for later.”