The Crossing of Ingo by Helen Dunmore Page A

on rock. But once he’s down, there’s a ledge above a sheer drop. It’ll be safe to dive from there.
    “I’m down. Come on,” he calls softly.
    I turn to face the rock, and press against it as Conor did. My fingers dig into a narrow crevice. I let go of my safe finger-hold and let myself slide. There’s no foothold or handhold. I scrabble desperately, my jaw cracks against the rock, I bite my tongue. But my foot jars against a spur of rock. I’m not sliding any more.
    Foothold, slide. Handhold, slide. Suddenly, with a jolt, both my feet hit rock and Conor’s hand is behind my back, steadying me. “You’ve made it, Saph. You’re on the ledge. Turn round slowly.”
    I shuffle my feet around cautiously, and turn to face outwards. At that moment the moon rises behind the curve of the cliff. First the rim, then the broad curve, then the whole moon floats free, lighting up the cove so brilliantly that it seems as if day has come. Below us the sea bulges, black and oily looking. There is hardly any wind, but a big swell. The water breaks as it enters the cove, slapping against the rocks with a hollow boom.
    For the first time in my life I’m afraid of the sea. Even when the Tide Knot broke, the fear was different. Then, the sea came out of its bed, out of its element, and tried to take over the land. It was natural to be afraid. But this is different. It feels as if the sea is prowling below our ledge, waiting for us.
    How I wish Faro would come. The fingers of my right handhave gone to my bracelet. I touch the
deublek
made of our woven hair. Of course Faro will come. We have to go to the Assembly chamber together.
    The water is empty. No Faro.
In two nights I shall be here for you.
Faro has never broken his word to me. Something must have prevented him. Maybe the wound on his tail was more serious than he thought.
    “It looks as if we’re going to have to find the way to the Assembly chamber ourselves. Do you think you can remember the way, Saph?”
    I think of the narrow passages Faro took me through. “I’m not sure, but if we follow the Call it’s bound to take us there.”
    “Can you feel the Call now?”
    “Ye-yes, I think so.” But the truth is that I can’t. It has faded abruptly, as if the mass of rock that surrounds us is blocking out its signal.
    “I can’t,” says Conor. “I’ll have to rely on you.”
    What if something bad has happened to Faro? “We’ve got to get to Ingo quickly, Conor.” The water heaves beneath us. There is a path of moon on its surface. Tonight even the moonlight looks sinister.
    “We’ll have to dive right out,” I say.
    “Let’s dive together. I’ll count.”
    I can’t get into a proper diving position because of the rock face behind me. The drop is about four metres. I’ve dived from higher points than this. My toes curl over the edge, gripping it. Diving in moonlight isn’t the same as diving in daylight. You can’tjudge distance so well. If I push off as hard as I can, I’ll be all right.
    “Ready, Saph? One – two – three –
GO!”
    We dive in the same second. I enter the water at a steep angle, down, down, down through the blackness. As soon as the sea touches me I know I’m not in Ingo. The sea is cold and hostile. I can’t breathe in it. I kick hard, swim up until I break the surface, and push my hair out of my face. I tread water, looking around. “Conor?”
    “I’m here.”
    We are both whispering. Rocks loom above us, the cold sea drags at us. Behind us the cliffs bulk high against the moonlight.
    “Saph, swim out! Swim to the entrance of the cove! The tide is dragging us to the caves.”
    He is right. I’m not swimming but the rock face is moving, gliding past me. It’s like being in a rip, but there aren’t any rips here inside the cove. I turn seawards and swim as hard as I can for the channel between the rocks.
    Conor is a few metres to my left. I’m swimming with all my strength but I’m barely moving. Cold, strong water has