Grimsdon by Deborah Abela

his chair again. ‘Fish’s ready.’ He took it off the fire, removed the upper wire mesh and held it out to Xavier. ‘Try that.’
    Xavier gingerly tore off a piece and nibbled a small corner. ‘It’s good.’ He threw the rest into his mouth.
    â€˜Huh!’ The old man again broke into laughter and held the fish out to Isabella. ‘Miss?’
    â€˜Thank you.’ It was smoky and tender. ‘Who are you?’
    â€˜I’m...’ The old man stopped. ‘Snowy?’ He looked to the bear, stroking his beard. ‘Don’t know. Huh! Forgotten.’ He threw some fish into his mouth. ‘Not all bad ... The fish are bigger, juicier. Never ate ’em before all this.’
    â€˜How did you know about the floods?’ Isabella asked.
    â€˜Studied the ... the ... what do you call wind and rain and clouds?’
    â€˜The weather?’ Xavier suggested.
    â€˜Yes, the weather, that’s it. Studied it for years. Found the book and the astrolabe. Proved it all.’
    â€˜The astro-what?’ Xavier asked.
    â€˜Astro labe.’ He pointed to a globe made of multiple layers of metal rings with intricate markings on each one. ‘Trend estimation, finite differences, partial differential equations, weather patterns, cycles of stars and planets, Babylonians, Aristotle. Fascinating.’
    Xavier raised a sceptical eyebrow at Isabella. ‘Yeah, fascinating.’
    â€˜It’s all written here.’ He pulled a tattered book from a nearby shelf. It had a faded red cover with frayed threads. ‘Highly prized. Very rare. Certainly not for burning.’
    Isabella took the book and carefully turned the fragile pages. They were filled with drawings of moons and stars, ancient astronomy equipment, graphs and charts with scribbled notations. ‘Le Previsioni,’ she read.
    â€˜Means “Predictions”. Written a thousand years ago.’ The old man tweaked the bear’s cheek. ‘Caused a stir, eh, Snowy?’
    â€˜You knew the floods would happen because of a metal ball and a thousand-year-old book?’ Xavier asked.
    â€˜Old things can be good.’ He drifted into mumbles and half-laughter.
    â€˜So you predict things like Nostradamus did?’ Xavier asked.
    â€˜Yes, but I’m better looking than him.’ He laughed and slapped his knee.
    â€˜Can you give us a prediction now?’
    His head fell forward and he became serious. ‘You’ll laugh like they all did.’
    â€˜We won’t,’ Isabella said. ‘We promise.’
    The old man sighed. ‘The Skelene is coming.’
    â€˜The Skelene?’ Isabella asked.
    â€˜A sea monster.’
    Xavier laughed. Isabella gave him a death stare.
    â€˜Told you you’d laugh. People laugh when they’re scared.’
    â€˜I’m not scared, it’s just a little ... impossible.’
    â€˜They said the floods were impossible. Look at us now.’ He jumped up and scurried between two rows of shelves. ‘Many have seen ’em. Many believe.’
    â€˜What’s he doing?’ Xavier asked.
    â€˜Shhh,’ Isabella whispered.
    â€˜Ouch.’ There was a clunk of falling books.
    â€˜Are you okay?’ Isabella asked.
    â€˜Yes. Fine. I...’ His voice fell away before he reappeared with a large leather-bound book. He sat on his chair and opened it with a groan. ‘In Norse legend, the Skelene rose from the deep.’ He flicked through the pages, searching. ‘Floating quietly on the waves. Sneaky thing. Sailors thought it was an island, but when a ship came close the Skelene pulled it under, ate everyone on board. Here!’ He pointed at an illustration of an oval-headed beast with bulging eyes wrapping its many tentacles around the hull of a ship.
    â€˜Really?’ Xavier sat back in his chair and crossed his arms.
    â€˜It’s all in here.’
    Isabella read the title: ‘A Natural History