Nicko was at the wheel of the Cerys. It was a beautiful night; the moon was rising in the sky and a myriad of stars were shining down on the elegant, finely tuned ship. The wind was perfect, it blew steadily, sending the ship singing through the waves. Exhilarated, Nicko breathed in the salt air of the sea - the sea that he had dreamed of for such a very, very long time and had been so afraid he would never see again. He could hardly believe that he was now back in his own Time, at the wheel of the most beautiful ship he had ever seen, heading for home. Nicko knew that he would remember this moment for the rest of his life.
The purposeful motion of the ship and the swell of the indigo-blue water, carrying fleeting glimpses of phosphorescence, soothed away Nicko's frayed and frazzled edges. The Cerys responded easily to his turns on the wheel, the wind perfectly filling her sails. Nicko glanced up at the sails and then smiled at Snorri, his navigator. Snorri was leaning against the rail, her long fair hair blowing in the breeze, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. Beside her stood Ullr, black and sleek in his nighttime guise as a panther. Feeling Nicko's gaze upon her, Snorri turned around and smiled.
"We did it, Snorri. We did it! " Nicko laughed. "And look at us now!"
"We are lucky," Snorri said simply. "So lucky."
This was the first night that Milo had left Nicko in sole charge of the ship. The previous night, the first mate - a cynical man who considered the gangly, unkempt Nicko Heap far too young to have control of the Cerys - had stood observing Nicko's every move as he steered the ship steadily through the waves, looking for the slightest error to report back to Milo. But to his chagrin he found none. He saw Nicko steer a steady course, reacting perfectly to the wind. He watched him take the Cerys safely past a trio of fishing boats with their nets spread wide under the brilliant moon and, much to the first mate's surprise, steering an unflustered course through a pod of whales, their dark massive backs like islands in the night.
The first mate may have been a cynical man, but he was also an honest man. He told his master that Nicko was a surprisingly competent helmsman and if only the boy were ten years older he would have no objection to him taking charge of the Cerys on the night passage. Milo - who had been filled in on the peculiarities of the House of Foryx by Jenna - thought that, all things considered, Nicko was probably older than the entire ship's company put together, and so he had left Nicko in sole charge of the helm on the second night of their voyage back to the Castle.
And so Nicko was king of the waves. The fresh smell of the sea filled his nose, his lips tasted of salt spray and his eyes roamed over the wide-open horizon unfettered by walls, unclouded by candle smoke. Below him were the wild depths of the ocean and above him was the glitter dust of stars, with nothing but a thin blanket of air lying between Nicko Heap and the entire universe. Nicko's head swam with joy at his freedom. But Nicko's delight did not take away an ounce of his concentration from the task - to steer the Cerys safely through the night until the first Day Watch helmsman took over at sunrise.
Nicko knew the night's passage plan by heart. He was to steer a southwesterly course, 210 degrees by the compass, until the loom of the CattRokk Light was visible on the horizon. The first mate had told Nicko and Snorri the lighthouse was easily identified - it looked like a cat. The light was fixed and shone from two "eyes" - though until you drew near, it looked like one. To complete the cat impression, the tower was topped with two earlike protuberances. Nicko was intrigued at the first mate's description of the CattRokk Light. If he had heard it from anyone else he would have thought it was a joke, but Nicko could tell that the first mate was not a man who made jokes. Nicko would head for the lighthouse until the one "eye" became two, and then turn the Cerys to the south and steer a course 80 degrees by the compass. This would take the ship close to another lighthouse - with ears but no light - which the first mate had assured Nicko he would be able to see, because by then the moon would be at its height. At a bearing of 270 degrees to the dark lighthouse, Nicko was to steer a southeasterly course, which should - wind and tide permitting - take the Cerys straight to the Double Dune Light.
It was not the most straightforward of courses, but Nicko was confident that he and Snorri could do it. The first mate had annoyed him by insisting three times that they must not on any account take the Cerys southeast of the CattRokk Light, toward the island that lay beyond. Nicko had replied that if he could avoid a whale, he thought he could probably manage to steer clear of an island.
Suddenly Snorri's excited cry broke through Nicko's thoughts. "There it is! I can see the loom. Look!"
From the lookout in the crow's nest came an echoing shout, "CattRokk dead ahead!"
Sure enough, on the horizon Nicko saw a misty diffusion of light, almost like the glimmerings of the sunrise - and the Cerys was headed straight toward the glow. Nicko felt elated. For all his apparent confidence, he had been worried that he might steer too southerly a course and miss the CattRokk Light completely. He glanced down at the heavy globe of the compass rocking gently in its binnacle and smiled - the needle was steady at 210 degrees exactly.
The Cerys cut through the waves, heading toward the glow, which crept above the horizon and became ever brighter. It was, Nicko thought, not quite as he had anticipated. The CattRokk Light was known for its great height, and yet the light appeared much nearer to the water than he had expected.
As they sailed on Nicko became increasingly concerned - something was not right. He had expected to see the tall tower of the CattRokk Light by now, but there was still nothing but a bright light shining in the distance. The moon disappeared behind a large cloud, and the night seemed suddenly dark. Nicko glanced yet again at the compass; the needle held steady, shivering slightly as compass needles do, above the marker for 210 degrees. They were on course - it did not make sense.
"Snorri, can you see CattRokk yet?" he asked anxiously.
"No, Nicko. It is strange. This is not like the chart, I think," said Snorri. A shout suddenly came from the lookout above. "Fog ahead!"
Nicko was shocked. The night was crisp and clear, most definitely not the kind of night he would have expected fog. "Fog?" he shouted up.
"Aye, sir," was the reply. "Comin' this way."
Nicko had never seen anything like it. A bank of fog was rolling across the sea toward them like a long white tidal wave. In a moment it had wrapped the ship in its chilly, dripping blanket of damp. It spiraled up the masts, enfolded the sails and smothered all sound, so that Nicko never heard the lookout's surprised shout of,
"CattRokk Light sighted! Dark - it's dark, sir!"
Syrah sat in the Peepe, perched in the little metal chair at the top of the rickety ladder, creaking and grinding around and around in circles as it traveled its endless journey along the rusty rails. A bright blue light filled the whiteness of the Peepe, and as Nicko's ship drew level with the blind eyes of the CattRokk Light, Syrah threw back her head and opened her mouth. From somewhere deep inside her a beautiful, sweet, enchanting voice sang out. The notes did not die away as normal voices do but hung in the air, waiting for more to join them. As Syrah sang, the sounds formed eddies in the air inside the Peepe - tumbling and twisting into a whirlpool of song, growing louder and stronger with each circuit, sweeping around the walls, gathering itself until at last it flew from the windows like a bird, into the night air, across the sea, heading toward the full-sailed ship in the moonlight.
As the fog covered his eyes, Nicko's ears were filled with a song more beautiful than he had imagined possible. Deep inside the song he heard his name, "Nicko, Nicko, Ni cko..."
"Snorri?" Nicko asked.
"Nicko, where are you?"
"Here. I am here. Did you call me?"
"No." Snorri's voice was strained. "Nicko, we must drop the anchor. Now. It is dangerous to proceed. We cannot see where we are going."
Nicko did not reply.
"Nicko... Nicko..." sang the voice, filling the air with delight and his heart with a wonderful feeling of coming home at last.
"Nicko...Nicko...come to me, Nicko," the song sang so sweetly. A soft smile spread across Nicko's face. It was true; he was indeed coming home. Coming home to the place where he truly belonged, to the place he had been searching for all his life. Suddenly, much to Nicko's irritation, Snorri's urgent voice broke through his reverie. "Anchor! Drop the anchor! "
Nicko thought Snorri was being very tedious. There was a sound of footsteps below, but Nicko did not care. All that mattered now was the Enchanting song.
"Land Ho!" came the lookout's shout from above. "Land Ho!"