Chapter 2

Nimbus and Grum, Lucent Deep

Sail

            Thalarae lay back on the cot, which sagged under her weight. “Honestly, the floor might be more comfortable. Nimbus, you want the cot?”

            Grum tested the hammock, giving it a swing before hopping back down. “This is nice.”

            “I’ve slept on worse,” Nimbus rummaged in the tiny closet—more a tall cupboard than anything.

            “What are these for?” Grum picked up one of the strange green pens from the desk and slid a piece of paper to the center. “Probably for boredom evasion. This is going to be a long ride.” Thalarae nodded, ever practical.

            A few moments later, the large ship painted in teak and yellow beside them began to move. Nimbus peered through the small circular window. “Are we going backwards? …Oh, never mind, that one’s moving.” From his angle, the shifting view of the harbor became clear.

            It was their last look at Glimmerglen’s enchanted shores. The swirly trees, the whimsical creatures, the buildings that shimmered faintly with magic. “Good thing those Aerethion Council guys gave us that gold for the trip. I hope it was well spent,” Grum mused.

            Nimbus started to reply, but only his mouth moved. A sudden hush fell over the cabin, like a fog of silence settling over everything. Thalarae tried to speak as well, confused, but nothing carried. Grum, unfazed, silently mouthed a cheerful “tra la la la” with exaggerated motions.

            A soft woosh and thunk drew their attention to the clear tube on the wall. A pale brown cylinder had arrived. Grum grabbed it and twisted the lid. Inside was a note:

            Welcome to the Scuttleback. The Echo Shroud has been activated. Feel free to use the chalkboard and notepaper. Ten tube responses per hour are allowed. Indicate recipient room number on the lid.

            The lid had a set of combination wheels—two numbers and a dial with colors, currently set to 25 and brown. Grum spun the dial, watching as the cylinder shifted hues to match. “Interesting,” Nimbus thought, remembering too late that words didn’t travel here.

            At the bottom of the cylinder sat a device made almost entirely of Echo Stone. Thalarae picked it up, flicked a switch, and suddenly faint sounds spilled out—the sailors above deck calling orders, ropes creaking, sails unfurling. Captain Trapbeard’s voice cut through clearly:

            “…After we collect the cargo and additional supplies in Shimmergrove, we’ll chart a line straight for Rhinestone Reach. Shimmergrove will be our final stop this side of the Endless Sea, so gather what you need for the journey quickly there—we won’t be long.”

            Thalarae clicked the device off and set it on the desk beside the papers. Grum slid the empty cylinder back into the tube. He was doodling on the chalkboard now. Nimbus joined him, chalk in hand, and scrawled a single word: Talk?

            Thalarae responded with another piece of chalk: Yes. After a pause, she added: And where is Shimmergrove? The little board was filling quickly. Nimbus erased one of Grum’s more elaborate doodles and wrote: South of Glimmerglen, near the Fairy Marsh.

            He hesitated, then urgently wrote another single word: Bucket.

            Thalarae’s eyes widened. She nudged Grum, pointing at the word. Grum burst into silent laughter, shaking the board with his mirth.

            Soon after, Thalarae and Grum stepped into the corridor, giving Nimbus some privacy. When they returned, Nimbus looked much relieved—and the bucket carried yet another mysterious odor. Grum, now looking at the porthole, noted something else. “Huh. That window’s almost as big as the bucket.”

            The trio gathered at the opening, watching other boats move in and out of the harbor. The magical land of Glimmerglen faded into the distance as their ship pushed into open waters. Waves struck the hull with watery splashes they could feel through the floorboards, though not a sound of it reached their ears. Evidently, the Echo Shroud blocked out the ocean’s noise so the crew could coordinate clearly through the stone devices.

            Grum decided he liked it; he could sing silently to himself without disturbing anyone.

Thalarae began sketching the shoreline’s curve into her map as the land slipped away. Nimbus, meanwhile, leaned against the wall, fighting a touch of queasiness. If he hadn’t already been green, he would be now.