“Thanks,” Henry said. He took it and dashed back to the greenhouse to Ishibashi’s side.
Ishibashi narrowed his eyes as Henry carefully unfolded the paper, revealing the burned corners.
“It’s a map. See? Artimé and Quill make up this one,” Henry said, pointing to the center island. “And this one over here,” he said, pointing to the easternmost island, farthest from the fake mass of land, “is your island.”
“I see.” Ishibashi studied the map for a very long time. “And what about this land?” Ishibashi asked, pointing to the large piece. “Have you ever been here?”
“It doesn’t exist,” Henry said. “We tried to get there, but the sea swallowed us and spun us around the bottom of the world, and we ended up here.”
Ishibashi stared at Henry. “What a horrible journey that must have been,” he said softly, and reached for the map. “May I have a closer look?”
Henry nodded and held out the map. Ishibashi took it and held it close to his face. It shook in the old scientist’s hands. “Where did you get this, Henry-san?” he asked gently—so gently that it made Henry look up in surprise. There was pain in the old man’s eyes.
“My sister—she found it in a book that washed ashore on Artimé after an air vessel fell out of the sky,” Henry said, puzzled. “Why are you sad? Don’t you want to come to Artimé with us? It’s a very happy place.”
Ishibashi sighed. Then he smiled ruefully, collecting his feelings and hiding them once more, and patted Henry on the shoulder. “Did all of your family grow up on your island? Your parents, too?”
“Yes,” said Henry.
“Your people—is it the same for them? All born on your island?”
“Except for Crow and Sky and Copper. They came from Warbler, this one here,” he said, pointing to the island on the map. He looked up, puzzled. “Which island did you come from, Ishibashi-san?”
The old man closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, he said, “It has been so long that I do not remember.”
Henry thought that was ridiculous—how could anyone not remember which island he came from? But he knew it would be rude to say so. Instead he said, “I think you would like Artimé.”
Ishibashi handed the map back to Henry. “Life is very complicated,” he said with a little laugh. “Filled with dreams and adventures, and disasters and broken hearts, too.”
Henry tilted his head, puzzled. “I don’t get it.”
The old scientist turned back to his work. “I am most grateful for your kind offer, Henry-san,” he said, “and so are Sato and Ito. But our home is here. Our work is here,” he said. “And our precious machines, our equipment, everything we dedicated our lives to is right out there, half-buried in the sea. We could never leave it behind.”
He hesitated, glancing at the map, and then looked away and dug his hands into the dirt around a plant. “This is our life, now. There is no one left to search for . . .” He trailed off and hunched over, focusing intently on the task before him.
Henry nodded sadly. “I understand,” he said, even though he didn’t. He got the feeling that Ishibashi didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
After a minute, standing there in a somewhat awkward silence, Henry folded up the map and said, “I’m glad you got your toolbox back, at least.” He pointed at the crate, which Florence had delivered to the shelter the day after they arrived. “That’s good, right?”
But before the scientist could respond, they heard a commotion in the shelter. Henry ran to the doorway and peered out to see what was happening.
Fox and Kitten came racing toward the greenhouse, Fox calling Henry’s name. “Henry! Henry! Kitten has found a very dear important friend who is hurt! Do you have any medicine?”
Henry rushed toward them. “What? A friend? Hurt? What?” Ishibashi followed.
“Mewmewmew!” cried Kitten.
Fox’s back end shook with excitement. “She says her very very good friend Sea Turtle has been struck savagely by a flying piece of driftwood—not me, of course—and now the sea turtle is dying!”
“Where?”
“Near the entrance to the shelter!”
Henry and Ishibashi ran through the stony rooms, past the group working on spells, dodging Samheed, who was testing out a very-slow-moving magic flying carpet, and out the doorway into the storm. Without hesitation, Ishibashi hoisted the sea turtle in his arms and staggered back inside.
“Back to the greenhouse,” Ishibashi said. “Let’s hurry.”
Henry helped him carry the turtle to the greenhouse, where they set it carefully on the floor on its back. Fox and Kitten crowded around. Ishibashi crouched next to the turtle and carefully checked it over. It seemed to be unconscious . . . or quite possibly dead.
“Henry-san,” Ishibashi said quietly, “fetch me a bit of the seaweed. Just a pinch.”
Henry jumped to his feet and rushed over to the tub where the glowing blue seaweed floated. He reached in carefully and pulled off a tiny bit, and raced back to Ishibashi.
“Slip the seaweed into the side of its mouth and massage it in the cheek,” Ishibashi instructed, holding the turtle’s head. “Careful of the beak.”
Henry did as he was told.
Fox, Kitten, Henry, and Ishibashi all leaned forward, watching intently.