Page 33 of The Neverfear

‘Yes.’

‘Can you tell me what is the nature of the trouble?’

Christopher hesitated for just one second – one second in which the bliss of telling the sphinx, and handing the whole terrifying situation over to her, rose up in him. She could call in the dragons; they could burn the bandits to the ground. Then he thought of Irian, and the words of the ransom note, and it was with absolute certainty that he said, ‘No. I can’t.’

‘Good,’ said Naravirala. ‘That is a good answer.’

‘How did you find us? Did the stars tell you that?’

‘The stars are not traffic wardens, Christopher Forrester. The mermaids saw you pass by. I received your letter. We must discuss it. But first, you must answer a riddle.’

Christopher groaned.

‘Beware, child of men! Do not take liberties with a sphinx.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Here is your riddle: I rise without waking and fall without pain, I come in without greeting and go out without goodbye. I am stronger than man or sphinx. What am I?’

Christopher tried to think. What was stronger than sphinxes?

‘I dislike riddles,’ said Naravirala. ‘I find them trite. But it is tradition that if you fail I must eat you, and I am old enough to know the value of tradition.’ She glanced over the edge of the boat as the waves lapped against the prow, and raised one tawny eyebrow at him.

‘Oh! The ocean!’ he said. ‘Wait, no – the tide!’

‘The tide. Yes. Stronger even than any man or beast.’ Naravirala smiled a barely visible smile. ‘Now tell me about your letter. Tell me about what you meant when you said it is speech without speaking.’

Christopher told her. He told her how animals had always come to find him, since he was a baby, but with his time in the Archipelago it had strengthened. How the unicorn had sent out its newborn exuberance so powerfully. About the flash: how it sharpened to become an invisible green-gold thread that rooted deep in his chest.

Naravirala stopped him. ‘Green-gold?’

‘Yes.’

‘When you came through the waybetween to Glimouria, did you see coloured light in the water? A gold phosphorescence? Was it the same—?’

‘Yes, yes!’ said Christopher, excitement rising in him. ‘Exactly that colour!’

‘Green-gold is the colour of glimourie.’

Naravirala moved towards him; she circled him, unblinking, her feet deft on the wood of the deck. She pressed her great forehead against his face and sniffed deeply. Then she nodded as if a suspicion were confirmed.

‘I have heard of this power before,’ she said. ‘It is a meeting of the Earth’s force and the mind’s skill. I do not know how it came to you, nor precisely how it functions. I will consult the writings on the mountain, and the stars. But I do know its name. The sphinxes call it the Light – the Glimourie Light.’

‘The Glimourie Light,’ he echoed.

‘How does it feel, this Light, to a human who can wield it?’

He told about the pain that came with the flash, the vertigo and nausea, the ache that was still in his bones. But he told her too how thrilling it had been – like seeing an extra colour, or hearing an extra musical note that he’d never guessed existed.

‘And these two,’ she said, ‘the behemoth and the unicorn – these are the only times you have used this power?’

Christopher shook his head. Uneasily, he told her about the Cerberus, about how its mind seemed to rise up and overcome him. ‘I felt its chains against my legs. I forgot my name.’

‘Your name?’ Naravirala swished her tail in concern. ‘It is your good fortune that you had Anya Argen with you, or you might not have returned. You must learn to keep better hold of yourself, else you will be in the gravest danger.’

‘Danger of what?’

‘Of becoming stranded. Suspended in limbo, animal mind in human form. If you use this connection, you must do it unselfishly.’