“To be sure,” Homer agreed, agreeable. He edged the wheel a little to the right. “But, Seneschal-elect, clear skies and light—and you can see more by some lights than others—are no substitute for a plotted course.”

I frowned. “What?”

“A clear night is useless without direction. All the visibility in the world won’t tell me where to turn the helm. Information is no substitute for decision.”

I lay still, feeling my heart thump through my back against the wood of the deck. “You mean I have to know what I want.”

I thought of my godmother’s words, of yeses and nos that change the world.

“I mean you have the power to choose.” Homer’s gray eyes drifted up to the heavens, over the stars hung brighter than jewels between gauzy clouds. “Set your course and trim your sails, Seneschal-elect. And whatever your heading, keep your eyes ahead.”

When I returned belowdecks, an origami dragon was waiting outside my door, guarding my room. I set it on my bedside table and fell fast asleep beneath his watch.

16

For twenty-six days—twenty-six tick marks—I watched the sun and the moon rise and set over the Atlantic, the days passing with a rhythm steady as a beating heart.

Once, we passed a ship headed from West Africa to Quebec, and a few of its sailors came aboard to swap letters. I sent notes to Daddy and to Godmother full of cheerful descriptions of the ocean and my garden and all the love I could put on paper, hoping the letters would reach them.

Better yet, their captain, Anansi, was an old friend of Homer’s and a brilliant storyteller. I washed dishes as quietly as I could, determined not to miss a single word as he sat beneath the swinging lamps in the galley, telling us tale after tale of all the times he, Homer, and their friends had tricked their way out of trouble. Captain Anansi’s smile was white and wide against his luminous black skin, his voice melodic; I could barely look away as he talked.

When he’d finished his last story, I cleared my throat. “Do you know how we’ll find England, Captain Anansi?”

Elbow-deep in the sink, I nearly missed it.

The sharp glance Anansi cut Homer. The slight shake of Homer’s head.

I would’ve thought nothing of the boisterous laugh Anansi gave in reply, of the wave of his dark-skinned, spidery hand, of his glib response. “It’s been quiet out of there for months.” He shrugged easily, smiled a bright smile. “Who knows what you’ll find?”

But I’d been paying attention.

And even as he left, I wondered what Homer had asked him to keep from me.