Solimar, page 8
“I can’t spring you on him all at once,” said Solimar. “There’s a lot for him to consider first. Stay here? Or hop in?” She pulled open the pocket of the pants.
Zarita’s wings drooped, but she climbed in.
Solimar grabbed the rebozo, even though it was still damp, and draped it over her shoulders with the shimmering on the underside. It would dry soon enough.
She followed Berto up the staircase. The higher they climbed, the sparser the leaves, but with the sun dropping behind them, the neighboring trees cast them in shadow. At the top, Solimar found herself standing in a large wooden crow’s nest, like the one in Campeón’s dream.
“A lookout,” said Solimar.
Berto nodded. “I call it the Crown.”
“I wish my brother could see this. He would love it.”
“You have a brother?”
She nodded, feeling a tug on her heart. “He’s leaving on a long sea journey soon, as…a deckhand.” She turned toward the river, her eyes sweeping over the panorama: the steep canyon walls, the river, and the waterfall slipping over a lip of rocks and crashing far below, more dangerous than she could have imagined.
“Look this way,” said Berto, pointing in the opposite direction toward a brown and barren horizon. “See the opening between those two mountains in the distance? That leads to my home, Valle Granada. And true to its name, it is a valley of hundreds of acres of pomegranates. Unfortunately, it lies between two monarchies but neither claims us, both rulers stubbornly insisting the responsibility lies with the other.” He shrugged. “I guess you could say Valle Granada is a kingdom-less land, with no protector or allegiance. My family is still there—my mother and sisters and…all the others.”
“Why are you here, so far away from home?”
“Until now, the pomegranate has meant prosperity for all the farmers who live there. But the natural springs and the wells are drying up. At this rate, in a few years there won’t be enough water for crops. I came here, next to the falls where there is water to spare, so I could create a way to channel some of it to my village. I’m working on a few ideas.”
She walked slowly around the platform until she came to a narrow opening with a wooden slide. “And this?”
“The fast way down. I’m a bit of a flume-ologist.”
“A what?”
“I build flumes—chutes and slides and such. I made this one by snagging barrels from the river, cutting them in half lengthwise, opening the top and the bottom, laying them end to end, and then sealing the joints. Or I capture long lengths of wood, soak them in water so that they’re bendable, and curve them over a form. My…my father taught me. But catching barrels or wood in the net is difficult and doesn’t happen very often.”
“So that’s how you’re trying to get water to your village. You want to divert it from the river with flumes.”
“Yes,” said Berto. “With flumes and canals I could move a lot of water a long way. On this end, I’d construct a gate to control the flow. Then, near Valle Granada, I’d build a reservoir, releasing the water as needed. All I need is supplies and manpower.”
“What kind of supplies?”
“Donkeys here at the base to run a wheel that lifts the water from the river. Lumber or barrels for the flumes…I know. It seems unbelievable to think I could accomplish such a thing. But I have to try.” Berto’s face clouded and he gazed past her. “The fate of my entire family and my home is in my hands.”
Tears filled her eyes. She swiped at them. “Mine too.”
For a few moments, they said nothing, each lost in their own worries.
Berto cleared his throat. “You said you needed help?”
Solimar took a deep breath and gave him a crooked smile. She nodded toward the slide. “Maybe we should go down first.”
He sat at the top of the chute and pushed off, his voice fading as he yelled, “See you at the bottom!”
Zarita popped her head from the pocket. “It’s stuffy in here.”
“I know it’s hard to wait. Just a little longer,” said Solimar. “Now, enjoy the ride!” She sat on the ledge and pushed off just the same. The slide curved in a wide arc and deposited her on the deck near the shady kitchen. She jumped up, laughing. “That’s brilliant!”
With Lázaro on her shoulder, Solimar sat at the makeshift table on a small barrel across from Berto.
“I have a confession. I am the soon-to-be-crowned Princess Solimar of San Gregorio. My father is King Sebastián and my mother is Queen Rosalinda.”
Berto scratched the side of his head. “Uh-huh. That doesn’t make sense. Didn’t you say your brother was a deckhand?”
Solimar nodded. “But he is also Prince Constantino, otherwise known as Prince Campeón. He’s running away from home to join a ship because he doesn’t want to be king anytime soon, or possibly ever.”
Berto looked skeptical. “Okay…That’s not something you hear every day.”
“No, it’s not,” agreed Solimar. “Even so, I desperately need to intercept him before he gets on that ship.”
“Why?” asked Berto.
Solimar barely took a breath telling him all about King Aveno and his wish to buy a thousand acres and exploit them, the hostages, and how her father would be walking into a trap when he left for the secret meeting. “And there’s more.” She hesitated and considered whether to tell him the rest. Yet she sensed she could trust Berto. Besides, what choice did she have? “King Aveno wants to capture me, too, because of a newly bestowed gift.”
He tilted his head, confused. “Gift? What kind of gift?”
“Before I say, you must promise to be…accepting.”
He rolled his eyes. “I promise.”
Solimar took a deep breath and told him about the monarchs, the sword of light in the oyamel forest, the magic, and the rebozo.
Berto stared at her with a blank look. “Are you sure you didn’t bump your head when you dropped from the net? Do you feel dizzy or light-headed? Are you seeing double?”
“No!” she insisted. “And it’s all true!”
Berto gave her a weak smile and shook his head. “You must admit this all sounds a little far-fetched.”
Solimar called for Lázaro, who landed on the table in front of Berto and held up his leg to present the band with the royal crest.
Berto put out his hands. “He’s your pet and has an identification band. That doesn’t prove anything.”
Solimar untied the rebozo from her waist, unrolled the fabric, and flipped it onto the table to reveal the shimmering.
He pointed at it. “Unusual…and pretty. And this, supposedly, gives you the ability to…”
Solimar nodded. “See the near future.”
Berto stood and ran his fingers through his hair. “Before the sun goes down, I need to check a net I strung across a stream. It’s where I usually catch dinner. And I don’t think we should be heading down the river anytime soon. You seem a little delirious. Maybe you should rest. Take a few days.”
“Delirious? Rest? I don’t have time to take a few days!” said Solimar. “You don’t seem to grasp the…the…”
Berto spread his hands and held them in front of his chest. “I’ll be right back, and then we can sort out what’s true and what’s imaginary.” He headed toward the ladder.
“I can prove it!” said Solimar.
Berto turned around.
She stood and stepped away from the table and into a small patch of sunlight, then flipped the rebozo over her shoulders. “Ask me what you will find in your net.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Sure. I’ll play along. What have I caught in my net?”
Her words flew. “Two mullets, a bass, a basket, a broken spoon, and an almost-drowned rat tangled in fishing line, a green duck feather. And a blue glass marble.”
He chuckled, gave a dismissive wave, and climbed down the ladder.
When he was on the ground, Lázaro flew after him, whistling.
Solimar propped an elbow on the table, resting her chin in her cupped palm. With the other hand, she drummed her fingers on the uneven wood.
Zarita peeked from the pocket. “I suppose it had to be done to prove your point.”
Solimar nodded. “We need him.”
It wasn’t long before Berto was back, his face sober. He held up a line with three fish attached and placed a damp and battered basket on the table.
Solimar peered inside. She lifted out a broken spoon, a green duck feather, and a blue glass marble.
Lázaro whistled a victorious fanfare.
“I untangled the rat and set it free, and I’ll fry the mullets and bass for dinner.” He sat and stared at Solimar. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. “I…I…caught a princess in the Confiscator?”
“Almost a princess. It’s not official for a few weeks.”
“Still…royalty.”
Zarita popped out from Solimar’s pocket. “Yes! Now we’re getting somewhere!”
Startled, Berto jerked back and toppled off the barrel.
Solimar jumped up to help him. “Are you all right? She didn’t mean to startle you. I know it’s a lot to take in. I should have eased you into the charmed doll thing.” Her eyes pleaded for him to understand. “Berto, meet Zarita.”
Zarita curtsied. “Don’t be alarmed. I’m kind and helpful and mostly unassuming.”
He righted the barrel and sat down again, his eyes darting from Zarita to Solimar. “Almost a princess. Charmed doll. Magic rebozo. Anything I should know about Lázaro?”
“Oh no. Don’t worry, he’s not magical, exactly,” said Solimar. “Although he can communicate perfectly with Zarita.”
“Of course he can,” said Berto.
Zarita put a hand on her chest. “You see, I speak the quetzal dialect. And squirrel, coyote, dog, and enough cat to get by.” She leaped to the table and faced Berto. “You must help. Please?”
“If we’re successful,” said Solimar, “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get you supplies and labor for your flumes and reservoir.”
Berto chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. Then he put his arms out to the side, palms up, raising one hand and lowering the other, as if weighing his choices. “Help the princess-to-be save San Gregorio and have a grateful king as my ally and benefactor…” He shifted his hands. “Or refuse, and know that I contributed to the destruction of a beautiful forest and the demise of not only the monarch butterfly but possibly an entire kingdom.” He looked into the canopy. “Hmm. Of course I will help you! I can’t say no to the chance to save my family and yours.”
Solimar clasped her hands together and smiled. “Thank you! The sooner we leave, the better.”
“First thing in the morning, then. I dock on the other side of the falls, where the white water levels out. You’ll need to help paddle.”
Solimar nodded. “I can do that.”
As Berto cooked the fish, Solimar set the table. “How long will it take to reach the port?” she asked. “I need to arrive by Friday night to warn my brother and father.”
“Based on what I know, two full days on the river. So tomorrow and Thursday. Then it’s a day hike to town. So with any luck, we should reach the marketplace sometime on Friday.” He looked at her bare feet. “You’ll need river sandals.”
“I like my boots.”
Berto shook his head. “They’re heavy, and once they fill with water, they’ll be like anchors. The soles are too slick, and they take forever to dry, making it difficult to go from land to water and back again. Trust me. You need light all-terrain shoes for sloshing in water, hiking, and rock-climbing. Or you’ll slow us down.”
After they ate, Berto put a piece of thick leather on the deck and pointed to it. She stood on it as he traced around her feet with a pencil. Then he carefully cut foot beds to match the outlines. With an awl and a hammer, he punched dimples into the rubber soles. He tore three long strips from a cotton blanket, and then began to tightly braid them.
“When the straps are done, I’ll push the ends of the fabric through the holes, knot them, and crisscross them over the top. You’ll be able to tie them snug to your feet. They will be comfortable and practical, if not fashionable,” said Berto. “I bet the last time you had a pair of new shoes, they weren’t like these.”
“No,” she murmured. “They were very different.” The silver quinceañera shoes were neither comfortable nor practical, yet her heart tugged as she imagined how proud her father would have been to change her flat shoes of childhood for those of a woman, and how excited her mother would have been to see her in her gown and tiara. She smiled. She would be happy to wear the silver shoes now, wobbly or not…if she could make the recent turn of events go away.
The sun set and the air cooled. Berto handed her a blanket. “It’s early to bed and early to rise on the river. I’m afraid the hammock isn’t fit for royalty. But it will have to do.” He went back to working on the sandals.
Solimar climbed into the hammock, put the blanket over her legs, and draped the rebozo over her chest. Lázaro and Zarita nestled at her feet. The rebozo felt heavier than usual. Was it the burden she carried—the fear that she would not be able to warn her father in time and change the destiny of her kingdom?
She squeezed her eyes tight and tried not to cry.
After Solimar woke and changed back into her clothes, she tied on the vest, situated Zarita in a pocket, and hurried from the sleeping quarters but found herself alone.
Her new river sandals sat on the table. Berto must have been up for hours last night, finishing them. Solimar put them on, tied the straps, and walked back and forth. They were comfortable.
She stepped into a sunny patch on the deck and held out the rebozo for a well-deserved warming to replace any strength that might have been lost last night. Then she carefully wrapped it around her waist again.
“Coming down…” Berto slid onto the kitchen platform, holding binoculars and wearing a life vest of his own. “I was checking the river. Our first run looks relatively calm.”
She modeled the sandals. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He shook his head. “A soon-to-be princess is wearing the shoes I made for her…I never saw that coming.”
“No time to be starstruck,” said Zarita.
“Yes, we should get going,” said Solimar.
Berto stuffed a few blankets into an oilskin tote, rolling the top and tying it snug. “This is our dry bag.” He slung it over his shoulder and swept an arm toward the ladder. “Your river chariot awaits.”
They hiked up a steep trail behind the tree house, across a ridge, and down again toward the river to circumvent the waterfall. Ahead was a flat stretch of the river. “That’s the shallows, where we’ll put in,” said Berto.
Solimar set Zarita on a boulder. “Where is the canoe?”
“I guess I should have explained. See, I had a canoe, but the hungry river chomped it in half and…well, I lost it. So I built a small…” He hesitated.
“Boat?” she asked.
Berto winced. “You could call it a boat.”
Solimar stopped. “Wait. You said…”
“I said I had a way down the river.” He walked to a pile of branches near the water and pulled them aside.
Solimar sputtered with disbelief. “It’s…it’s…a raft!”
It was as long and wide as a canoe. Narrow logs were the base, and it was topped with short ones that had been laid perpendicular and lashed together. In the center, battered window shutters were strapped down. Two upturned crates served as benches on the front and back. Used paddles lay the length of the sides, stacked snugly beneath ropes.
Proudly, Berto said, “I snagged everything in the Confiscator, and I named it La Magdalena.”
“But it doesn’t even have sides or a railing!”
Berto looked as if his feelings were hurt. “It’s perfectly capable. And I’ve already taken it on short jaunts. There is no reason it shouldn’t make it farther. Besides…” He shrugged. “It’s our only option. And look!” From behind a tree, he pulled a long, narrow bundle of tightly woven fronds.
“What is it?” she asked.
He hopped onto the raft and positioned it in a hollow piece of bamboo affixed to the crate near the bow. He propped open a giant leafy umbrella. “A sunshade. So you won’t have to worry about me accidentally asking you questions for which I don’t need to know the potentially terrifying answers, like whether or not we’re going to survive. Or what danger lurks around the next bend, which would be so handy to know. But I’ll forgo the advantage with respect to the lives of the butterflies and your wishes. See? All the conveniences.”
The umbrella collapsed over Berto. From underneath came his muffled voice. “I can fix that.”
Solimar’s heart sank. Her voice quivered. “How…how are we supposed to portage around dangerous sections of the river?”
“We don’t,” said Berto, crawling from beneath the umbrella. “The raft is much too heavy. But I’ve scouted the river many times, and I have run every rapid all the way to Devil’s Teeth. That is, when I had my canoe.”
“Devil’s Teeth? Is that where the hungry river chomped it in half?”
“Well…yes. But it’s only called that because when the water is low the gigantic boulders look like a mouthful of jagged teeth.”
Solimar’s eyes widened.
“But don’t worry, the water level is high now, so it might not be as threatening.”
Solimar gulped. “Might not be.”
“We’ll scout ahead and take it one rapid at a time. After Devil’s Teeth, we’re home free and only have to navigate the caves.…You’re not hyperventilating, are you?”
Zarita nodded. “She’s having a moment.”
Solimar walked in a circle, taking deep breaths, her arms flailing up and down. She bent over, put her hands on her knees, and dropped her head forward. When she straightened, she laughed and cried at the same time. “The plan is ludicrous! Nothing survives Río Diablo! Not even your canoe! We’ll soon be stranded, and I will never intercept my father in time. And the labyrinth of caves? I’ve heard the stories. It’s a maze! People go in and never come out.”
