There's a knock on my door and Papa enters. "Sina? Time for breakfast— Where did those come from?"
Yawning, I stretch and sit up. "What?" I ask, blearily peering around my room. Bright morning sunshine streams through the window and the breeze from the sea gently tugs at my threadbare curtains. In the distance, gulls are already crying as the ships begin to move out to open water.
"These— Was your window open all night?" Papa asks, abruptly changing the subject. He walks over to the window and closes it firmly. "Sina. Can you explain this?" He bends down and picks up a large net resting at the bottom of my window. Heavy, rectangular objects sway back and forth.
Curling my legs beneath me, I reach for the net, drawing it into my lap. With wondering fingers, I pick at the net, trying to find its opening. The net itself doesn't appear to be constructed from rope, but rather from tightly-braided seaweed. The fiber is still green and slightly damp as I tug at a knot. Everything smells like a combination of the sea and old books.
Delightful.
"Sina?" Papa prompts, folding his arms.
"One moment," I say, finally succeeding with a cry of joy. The net opens, spilling its wonderful contents all over my lap and onto the bed.
Books—so many books!
Eagerly, I pick up one. A History of the Askeborg Empire, states one cover. Lessons from the Stars, states another. History, geography, philosophy, essays ... they're all here, twenty books in all. My heart swells and I gather them all to my chest, holding on tight as if they are a favorite stuffed toy.
"A Beginner's Guide to Magic," Papa picks up one book and reads the title with a frown. "Sina, where did these come from?"
"The black octopus gave them to me," I tell him absently, fanning the pages of a history tome. Oh, this one is going to be so much fun to read, I can already tell!
"A ... black octopus?"
"Yes, the one I saved from Fabien, Hans, and Mikal yesterday. He came to me last night and granted me a wish."
"A ... wish-granting black octopus came to you last night," Papa repeated slowly. Dropping his hands to his sides, he slowly looks around my small bedroom and at the bounty of books spilling like a waterfall from my lap.
"Yes, I told him that I wanted to learn, and look what he brought me!" I exclaim, jumping to the floor and throwing my arms around Papa's waist. "Now you don't have to worry about getting me any new books, Papa!" So much money saved!
A small sound, somewhere between a cry and a laugh, escapes Papa's lips. I look up and see Papa shaking his head. "A magical talking octopus ..." he mutters, pressing a hand to his forehead.
Suddenly, I realize that he isn't as enthusiastic about this as I thought he'd be. "Did I do something wrong, Papa?"
Papa looks at me, eyes wide. "No, no!" he exclaims. "This is amazing, darling. But ..." He turns the book on magic over in his worn hands. "You must be careful, Sina. Your mother ..."
My chin comes up at the mention of my mother. "What about Mama?" I ask in a quiet voice. Mama died years ago when I was very little and we lived in another village.
Papa blinks. "Your mother would want you to be careful," he finishes with a cough. "Be very careful." He hands the book of magic to me. "Keep these here. Don't take them to school."
I take it and run a hand over the dull green cover with its faded gold embossing. No one talks about magic in Farbarrow, especially not in school. Miss Templeton stripped all fantastical books from the two classrooms and burned them in the furnace last winter. I was sent to stand in a corner for protesting.
By the Grey God, I loathe her.
"Yes, Papa."
"Good," he says. "Now, hurry up or you'll be late for school."
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The day passes with agonizing slowness. More than once I wonder if I should have snuck at least one of the thin history texts into class and read it under my desk. But I force myself to listen to Miss Templeton drone on and on about the "correct" way to write the alphabet. No matter the fact that half the class is beyond such basic principles. But Miss Templeton refuses to let the older children work separately while she instructs the littles. Everyone receives the same lesson.
At the end of the day, I can hardly contain my excitement when the bell rings for dismissal. I grab my lunch pail and book bag and nearly run out of the classroom, much to Miss Templeton's disapproval. Well, let her frown!
The dull grey stone and dour streets of Farbarrow are a blur as I race home. I drop my bag and pail on the cluttered kitchen table and run to my room. The pile of books is still there; I'll have to organize them later. Selecting a book at random, I head back outside.
Papa is hard at work mending a lobster trap when I enter the shop. Three more are stacked on the floor.
"Where did those come from?" I ask, perplexed. I haven't seen this many traps in a long time. Everyone here has agreed that they've bled the area dry of crustaceans.
"Marc Lentz's son dropped these off a little while ago," Papa explains, fingers deftly tying knots to create a diamond-shaped pattern. "He said that they left one off the western coast as a test yesterday and when they pulled it up, it was full of lobsters."
My eyes widened. Although Farbarrow relies mostly on the large redgills and Orta tuna to fund the economy, the abundance of lobsters and crabs placed us in a better position than most sea-faring villages. Until the lobsters ran dry.
More lobsters mean that Papa would get more money. More money means that we can finally fix the holes in the foundation and not rely on old canvas sails cast off by the fishermen to keep out vermin and the draft.
And, perhaps, more books?
"That's wonderful, Papa!" I cry gleefully, clapping my hands together.
"Now, you sit right there," Papa says with a grin, "and read your book. Dinner will be here soon."
"Dinner?" For as long as I can remember, we've cooked at home. There was a time before the lobsters left that Papa would take me into the main village to eat at Kilburg's Tavern a couple of times a week. Now, we order from there once every six months.
"Mm-hmm," Papa hums as he works.
What good fortune! I get comfortable on the stool and open Jandarik's Travel Logs. I'm a few pages in when one of the Tavern girls knocks on the door with our dinner: steamed red potatoes with rosemary, lemony green beans, and a portion of roast beef sitting in its own pool of garlic butter sauce. The girl even brought a mug of beer for Papa and a cup of lemonade for me.
As we eat, Papa works and I read. Eventually, the sun sets beyond the horizon, lighting the water on fire before vanishing. Papa lights two lanterns and gathers up our trays.
"Bed-time," he announces, taking the book from my hands and closing it.
"Papa!" I exclaim with a frown. "There's no school tomorrow!" And I am so glad of it, too.
Papa smiles. "Yes, but you and I have a lot of work to do." He leans down and kisses my forehead. "Now, to bed."
Pouting, I take the trays and go back into the house. I leave them on the counter by the stone sink and bend down to pull at a trap door. Several small carafes rest beneath the floor where they are kept cool. Pulling one out, I remove the thick, protective wax cap and pour some water into the sink. First, I wash my hands and face, then scrub the trays before letting them sit to dry on the counter. Returning the carafe to the little root cellar, I pull the plug on the sink, letting the dirty water rush outside to drain into the sand.
To my surprise, the little black octopus is waiting for me when I enter my room. I gasp at the sight, but the little creature lifts a tentacle to a spot between its blue eyes, and I clamp a hand over my mouth. Quickly, I turn and shut the door before dropping to the floor.
Moonlight streams through the window, making the octopus's wet skin shimmer like oil.
"You came back!" I whisper excitedly.
The octopus blinks in amusement. "You wished to learn, so I am here to teach you."
"Teach me?" I look at the pile of books stacked by my bedside.
"Yes." The octopus turns towards the books and maneuvers one free with the aid of four tentacles. "This one." It drops A Beginner's Guide to Magic in my lap.
"Magic?" I repeat, picking up the slim green volume. "Do you think I can do it?" No one does magic in Farbarrow, no one even speaks of it.
"Let's see, shall we? Grab that candle," the octopus instructs.
Echoes of Papa's warning to be careful briefly rise to mind, but I'm too eager to attempt the trick that I snatch the candlestick from the bedside table.
"Set it here." The octopus draws a small circle of water on the wooden floor with a tentacle.
I do so. "Now what?"
"Cross your legs—like so, good. Now, you must be calm."
I bite my lip and take a deep breath, trying to be calm like the octopus is instructing me.
"Good. Breathing is good. Deep and slow, it will center you."
It takes a few minutes, but at last, I can feel my heart rate slow; I begin to relax and I close my eyes. The octopus's voice takes on a soothing, almost hypnotic quality. My chest lifts up and down, air going in and exiting my lungs like the push and pull of the tide.
"Look at the candle. You know what it looks like when it is lit. While holding that image in your mind, compel the candle to light."
Slowly, I open my eyes. The candle sits in the middle of the circle, everyday and ordinary. The octopus sits behind it, watching me expectantly with those inhuman blue eyes.
I know what a lit candle looks like. Now, to make it happen without striking a match.
"Light," I breathe, staring at the candle.
Nothing.
What? Why didn't it work? My shoulders slump and I look over at the octopus. "Again," it urges, waving a tentacle. "No one gets it on the first try."
But I'm used to things coming easily to me—at least in school. I've always been several steps ahead of my peers, but here ... here, I'm at the bottom. It's an odd feeling. One that I need to rectify immediately.
After several unsuccessful attempts, I'm on the verge of tears. "I can't do it," I admit, pushing a lock of black hair away from my face. My eyes are prickly and my throat starts to burn with disappointment.
The octopus is composed. "Tell me what you are doing."
I sit back against my bed. "I'm breathing as you said, I'm picturing the candle lighting."
"But are you believing it?" the octopus asks, blinking.
"Believing?"
The octopus nods its body up and down. "You can want something all day, but for the magic to work, you must believe in it. Do you believe that you can light this candle without a match?"
"I ..." I stumble to a halt. "No? At least, I think I believe it ..."
"Stop thinking and start believing. Use the confidence that gives you the ability to excel in school. Now, again." It points at the unlit wick.
I can do this, I think. I can do anything. Rolling my shoulders, I settle and take a deep breath, listening to the eternal song of the sea outside my window. I can do this ...
"Light."
There's a puff of sulfur and a flash of light. My eyes widen and I jump back as the candle suddenly flares to life. Across the circle, the octopus's eyes crinkle in amusement.
"Very good." It reaches out and snuffs out the flame, plunging the room into moonlit darkness. "Let's try that again."