It occurred to her after a few more moments of not being eaten that the sea monsters looked as if they were dancing. Not to music, but within the waves. They wove between each other, the snakes winding into elaborate braids that then unraveled.The tentacles undulated, causing the waves to pulse against the current.
“They come,” Enkle said.
“Steady. You may find this startling,” Vela warned them.
More startling than dancing sea monsters?
The fishers looked, at first, like figures standing on an island—an island that was moving toward the dock at high speed. But what was propelling them? They were scurrying over a rounded surface that looked like an inverted boat. As it drew closer, Calisa saw the “boat” lift its head out of the water.
“That,” Jack said in a strangled voice, “is a very large turtle.”
It was. A turtle. And extremely large. It carried at least a dozen figures on its back as it swam toward the dock. When it was closer, Calisa saw its face, as gray as granite and as wrinkled as Auntie Zee’s. Its eyes were a swirl of black and gray, reminding Calisa of the portals.
The sea snakes and krakens parted to allow the vast turtle to approach the dock. Calisa noticed that near the tail a contraption was lashed to the enormous shell—it had pulleys and netting like on a fishing boat back home. Beside it was a man without scales.
Jack lurched forward. “Dad!”
Vela and Enkle caught him on the edge of the dock as one of the kraken snapped a tentacle up. “Calm,” Vela cautioned in a soft, steady voice. “You don’t want to flail like a fish. Accidents have happened.”
Jack froze and just stared.
Behind them, Calisa watched as the island-like turtle swam close to the dock, and the fisherfolk clambered off the shell. “What’s the emergency?” one of them asked.
“Who’s this? Another scaleless one? Hey, Thomas, this one of yours?” a woman called.
The man by the netting held his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. “What did you say? Is it an emergency or a festival?”
Jack seemed frozen. So Calisa waved. “Hello!” she called. “Hi, Jack’s dad!”
“He’s lost his glasses,” Jack said in a strained voice.
But it didn’t matter. Thomas was climbing over the shell, and the other fishers—whohadseen Jack, recognized the resemblance, and put two and two together—were all helping him along, offering him a hand, half shoving him over the shell, until Jack’s father reached the dock and slid the final bit of distance to dismount from the shell.
Now he could see his son.
The two of them stared at each other.
And then they were crying and hugging and talking so fast that the words spilled over each other, churning like the waves in the monster-filled sea.
—
Soon, the shoreline was filled with celebrants. Someone called for a feast, and within half an hour, tables were set up and piled high with breads, jams, fruits, and other treats that Calisa didn’t recognize. Musicians hauled instruments out of their houses,while others knocked on doors, calling everyone outside for a celebration: a father and son reunited!
“Shouldn’t we be getting back to the portal?” Calisa whispered to Jack.
“If my dad’s not worried…”
His dad had been the one trapped here for three years. She supposed he knew far more about how the portals worked than she did. She told herself to relax and celebrate. This was an unexpected victory.
Off the shore, the sea monsters careened through the waves, while the villagers tossed them fish heads and fish tails and other bits of leftover food, as if they were feeding sea gulls at the beach.
In front of the lodging house, one villager played a three-pronged flute, while another beat the rhythm on a drum set made of barrels and shells. A third played an instrument that resembled a cello but only had three strings. Others took turns singing—some well and some not so well. Sitting on a bench with Jack and Calisa, Jack’s dad joined in on one of the songs, and the tune was so catchy that Calisa hummed along until she’d heard enough that she was able to jump in on the chorus.
When the song ended, Thomas leaned toward them. “I’m sorry. I know you’re Jack’s friend, but who are you? And is that a dragon on your shoulder? I’ve never seen one that small.”
Calisa noted he had the same eyes as his son, though his were red-rimmed and had wrinkles that curled around them. “I’m Auntie Zee’s grandniece, Calisa. And this is Steve. He’s…a guest at the inn, sort of. Or he came with a guest. He seems to like me.”
He squinted at her. “I remember you. You were”—he gestured to about half her height—“smaller the last time I saw you. Little Cali. Jack, you remember, don’t you?”
