“And how did you keep the house afloat?” she asked suspiciously. “And get all this way without a sail?”
“Just lucky, I guess,” Fergus said.
“That’s ridiculous,” said the girl. “Tell me the truth.”
“I’m sorry,” Fergus said, “but my mother told me never to talk about it.”
The girl narrowed her eyes at him, as if considering whether or not to throw him overboard.
Fergus avoided her gaze and glanced nervously over her shoulder. “Where’s the captain?” he asked.
“You’re looking at her,” the girl replied.
“Oh,” said Fergus, unable to hide his surprise. “Well, where’s your crew?”
“You’re looking at them,” she said.
Fergus could hardly believe it. “You mean to tell me you sailed this huge ship all the way from—”
“Cabo Verde,” the girl said.
“—all the way from Cabo Verde—by yourself?”
“Yes, I did,” the girl said.
“How?!”
“I’m sorry,” she said, “but my mother told me never to talk about it.” And then she turned her back on him and raised her arms, and a great wind blew up and billowed the sails.
She was smiling when she turned around again. “My name’s Cesaria,” she said, and put out her hand.
Fergus was stunned. He’d never met anyone like himself before. “N-nice to meet you,” he stuttered, and shook her hand. “I’m Fergus.”
“Hey, Fergus, your house is floating away!”
Fergus spun around to see the house drifting away from the ship. Then a rather large wave hit the house, and it tipped over and began to sink.
Fergus didn’t mind. He’d already decided he didn’t need the house anymore. In fact, it just might have been Fergus himself who made the wave that sunk the house.
“Well, I guess I’m stuck here,” he said, and shrugged.
“That’s okay with me,” Cesaria said, and grinned.
“Excellent,” Fergus said, and grinned back.
And the two peculiar children stood grinning at each other a long time, because they knew they had finally found someone to share their secrets with.
The Tale of Cuthbert
Once upon a peculiar time, in a forest deep and ancient, there roamed a great many animals. There were rabbits and deer and foxes, just as there are in every forest, but there were animals of a less common sort, too, like stilt-legged grimbears and two-headed lynxes and talking emu-raffes. These peculiar animals were a favorite target of hunters, who loved to shoot them and mount them on walls and show them off to their hunter friends, but loved even more to sell them to zookeepers, who would lock them in cages and charge money to view them. Now, you might think it would be far better to be locked in a cage than to be shot and mounted on a wall, but peculiar creatures must roam free to be happy, and after a while the spirits of caged ones wither, and they begin to envy their wall-mounted friends.
This was an age when giants still roamed the earth, as they did in the long-ago Aldinn times, though they were few in number and diminishing.25 And it just so happened that one of these giants lived near the forest, and he was very kind and spoke very softly and ate only plants. His name was Cuthbert. One day Cuthbert came into the forest to gather berries, and there saw a hunter hunting an emu-raffe. Being the kindly giant that he was, Cuthbert picked up the little ’raffe by the scruff of its long neck, and by standing up to his full height, on tiptoe, which he rarely did because it made all his old bones crackle, Cuthbert was able to reach up very high and deposit the emu-raffe on a mountaintop, well out of danger. Then, just for good measure, he squashed the hunter to jelly between his toes.
Word of Cuthbert’s kindness spread throughout the forest, and soon peculiar animals were coming to him every day, asking to be lifted up to the mountaintop and out of danger. And Cuthbert said, “I’ll protect you, little brothers and sisters. All I ask in return is that you talk to me and keep me company. There aren’t many giants left in the world, and I get lonely from time to time.”
And they said, “We will, Cuthbert, we will.”
So every day Cuthbert saved more peculiar animals from the hunters, lifting them up to the mountain by the scruffs of their necks, until there was a whole peculiar menagerie up there. And the animals were happy there because they could finally live in peace, and Cuthbert was happy, too, because if he stood on his tiptoes and rested his chin on the top of the mountain he could talk to his new friends all he liked.
Then one morning a witch came to see Cuthbert. The giant was bathing in a little lake in the shadow of the mountain when she said to him, “I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve got to turn you into stone.”
“Why would you do that?” asked the giant. “I’m very kindly. A helping sort of giant.”
And she said, “I was hired by the family of the hunter you squashed.”
“Ah,” he replied. “Forgot about him.”
“I’m terribly sorry,” the witch said again, and then she waved a birch branch at him and poor Cuthbert turned to stone.
All of a sudden Cuthbert became very heavy—so heavy that he began to sink into the lake. He sank and sank and didn’t stop sinking until he was covered in water all the way up to his neck. His animal friends saw what was happening, and though they felt terrible about it, they decided they could do nothing to help him.
“I know you can’t save me,” Cuthbert shouted up to his friends, “but at least come and talk to me! I’m stuck down here, and so very lonely!”