Solimar, p.7
Solimar, page 7
With Lázaro shadowing her, she burst through the red door and spilled into Doña Flor’s arms.
The dolls and masks prattled with concern.
“Poor child.”
“What has happened?”
“Oh my, she’s distraught!”
“What a poor, bedraggled mess!”
Doña Flor smoothed Solimar’s hair, then led her to a chair by the hearth.
Zarita climbed to the mantel to reunite with the dolls. Lázaro perched on Solimar’s shoulder, his head twitching right and left, wary of every oddity in the house.
Doña Flor shushed the room. “Solimar, what has happened?”
Between nervous gulps, Solimar told the story. “We need to somehow warn my father and brother.”
“Then we haven’t much time.” Doña Flor paced.
The dolls and masks all began to utter their concerns.
“The poor queen trapped in the castle!”
“And the princess-to-be, the only hope!”
“But the danger!”
“So many lives at risk. What can be done?”
Doña Flor held up her hands until the room quieted again. “Solimar, there is a way to Puerto Rivera other than by land. And it’s much quicker.”
Doña Flor opened a cupboard and pulled out a garment—a short vest that tied in the front and was considerably overstuffed.
The dolls applauded.
“Of course!”
“A perfect choice!”
“Bravo!”
“What? What is a perfect choice?” asked Solimar.
“This vest is stuffed with the fluffy fibers from the seed pods of kapok trees,” said Doña Flor. “When you wear it, you will be unsinkable.”
“Unsinkable? But what good would that…?” Solimar’s eyes grew large and afraid. “Río Diablo? No!”
“It’s been done before,” said Doña Flor. “In a canoe. And it will only take a few days.”
“Can’t you just do something with magic and get a message to my father?”
Doña Flor smiled. “I wish it was so, but no. Now, on the river, you will have to scout and portage around the impassable. But you can do it.”
“Portage?”
“Carry or drag the canoe overland to safe water. Your grandmother told me you’re a horsewoman. If you can lift a heavy saddle onto a horse, you’re strong enough to portage a small canoe. And it’s the only way to get to your father in time. Now keep in mind, the vest will make you unsinkable but not unbreakable,” said Doña Flor. “So use the paddle to keep the canoe away from rocks and boulders.”
Solimar frowned. “So if I fall into the water, I will float, but I could be smashed to smithereens?”
“Good. You understand.” Doña Flor studied Solimar up and down. “Let’s get you out of that dress.” She opened a drawer and pulled out a blouse and brown full-legged trousers. “Much better on the river, yes?”
Solimar stared at the clothes, then around the room at the masks and dolls, who nodded encouragement. What might happen to her family if she didn’t try? Would she have a home to which she could return?
From the mantel, Zarita said, “You’ve got this.”
“I’ve got this,” whispered Solimar. She took the clothes and quickly changed. The trousers came to the top of her boots, which she was grateful she was still wearing, instead of her quinceañera shoes. She loosely rolled the rebozo and weaved it through the belt loops, securing it around her waist, then held open a pocket for Zarita. “Coming?”
Zarita leaped from the mantel into the pocket. “I wouldn’t miss this adventure for all the ribbons in Mexico.”
Solimar slipped into the vest, tying the straps so it fit snug to her chest.
Doña Flor gathered up Solimar’s enormous quinceañera dress. “If the guards find this, they’ll know you’ve been here. We need to hide it. Time to go. Follow me.” She headed toward the door.
The dolls and masks said their good-byes.
“¡Buena suerte!”
“Safe passage!”
“¡Adiós!”
“Bon voyage!”
Solimar followed Doña Flor across the clearing, looking over her shoulder to make sure the guards weren’t near.
Lázaro, the goats, and the chickens paraded after her.
At the edge of the woods, Doña Flor stopped and pointed downhill. “Hike to the river, then downstream to a hut. You can’t miss it. The canoe is inside. Launch from there. The river will be calm for most of the day, but later this afternoon it will run swift. When the current brings you to a great flat pool as spacious as a lake, you must paddle with all your might to the left bank to avoid the first waterfall.”
Solimar’s eyes crinkled with worry. “Waterfall? You didn’t say anything about—”
“There are two, the second worse than the first. Tonight, tether to the bank and sleep in the canoe. Tomorrow morning, portage around the waterfall. But before you get back in the canoe, walk to a high spot where you can scout the next stretch of water.”
“Scout for what?”
“Obstacles in the river so you’ll know where they are and can paddle around them.”
A cold, perspiry panic washed over Solimar. She clenched and unclenched her fists. “But…but how will I know what to do?”
“The river will make the choice known. Now, listen carefully. This is most important. Tomorrow, you will arrive at the confluence of two rivers. The one on the left leads you to the labyrinth of caves. That is the way you must go. The other would take you to El Salto de los Ángeles.”
“Leap of Angels? What is that?”
Doña Flor shuddered. “It’s the second waterfall, and you do not want to go there. The water leaps over the falls and crashes so far below and with such force that the spray rises up in a wild froth resembling angel wings.”
Solimar gulped and tried to steady her breathing. “Avoid the waterfalls. Stay to the left. And to the left. I’ll remember. But the labyrinth? People go in and are never heard from again. How will I know which way to go?”
Doña Flor took both of Solimar’s hands in hers. “When you come to an impasse or face uncertainty, there is only one thing to do. Trust your instincts. You are stronger than you know. And you have something special deep inside you. The butterflies recognized it, or they wouldn’t have trusted you with their magic. Use it. I know you can do this. I feel it.”
Zarita whispered. “I feel it, too.”
Lázaro tweeted.
Uncertainty overwhelmed her, but Solimar nodded anyway.
In the distance, horses whinnied.
“The guards,” whispered Doña Flor. She put the dress into Solimar’s arms. “Hide this in the canoe hut.” She turned to the goats and chickens. “Run back, my lovelies, and startle the horses.”
The chickens and goats turned and fled toward the house. Within moments, there was a loud commotion of bleating and cackling and neighing.
Quickly, Solimar hugged Doña Flor. “Thank you, with all my heart,” she said, and darted into the woods.
Solimar hurried down the slope toward the water’s edge and followed the river downstream. On the narrow bank, she high-stepped over rocks and wove around boulders until she reached a small wooden hut on a flat and sandy beach. Solimar pulled the door open.
The canoe was smaller than Solimar expected. Two paddles lay in the bottom and a long rope dangled from the bow. Coils of old rope hung on the walls, as well as a few weathered baskets and rusty tools. Doña Flor had said to hide the dress. But where? Solimar walked to the back corner, where she found a canvas tarp.
She held up the dress and admired the lacework and sequins. She hadn’t wanted any of the extravagance or fussiness of a quinceañera, but now she felt a pang as she realized she might not ever have one.
Fighting back tears, she quickly folded the gown and hid it under the tarp.
Solimar dragged the canoe from its shelter, closed the shed, and then pushed the small boat into the water. Like a sentinel, Lázaro perched on the edge of the bow. Zarita sat next to him, unusually quiet.
After Solimar looked around one last time for anyone who might have followed, she climbed inside and paddled downstream, reliving everything that had happened in the castle. Was she doing the right thing? Could she get to the port in time? Even so, what would happen to the kingdom if she couldn’t find her brother and father? She took deep breaths, trying to calm the jumble of questions and worries.
The day wore on. There wasn’t a wisp of wind. The water mirrored the sky so that it looked as if she were paddling through clouds. The current rested before the divergence of two small tributaries. She stopped. Doña Flor hadn’t said anything about a split. And this wasn’t the great flat pool as spacious as a lake. Which way should she go?
All the things she’d heard about the river crept into her thoughts. She whispered, “Only flotsam survives.” Fear gripped her. What lay ahead? Her hands trembled.
Lázaro hopped on her shoulder and made short encouraging tweets.
Zarita murmured, “Trust your—”
“—instincts. I know what Doña Flor said. But what if it’s not true? What if I’m not stronger than I know? What if my instincts are incorrect? Which way should I go?”
A butterfly darted in front of her. She looked up. A flight of monarchs trailed above. A small swarm broke off and flittered around her. On her waist, the rebozo stirred.
Solimar unleashed the fabric and held it out, fingertip to fingertip, letting the sun infuse it. She heard the chorus again—mystical and ancient and with such harmony that her arms prickled and tears filled her eyes. A clutch of monarchs lifted from the rebozo, their wings beating in time to the rhythmic song, and trailed after the swarm toward the waterway on the right.
Before she could lower the rebozo, the canoe began to move, the fabric acting as a sail. What force moved them forward? The canoe glided to the right, following the monarchs’ path.
Solimar draped the rebozo over her shoulders and picked up the paddle. “Thank you. Fly safe,” she whispered.
After she’d been on the river for most of the afternoon, the currents grew stronger and the canoe traveled faster. Ahead, Solimar saw white water and small rapids. The canoe bounced over them.
“Whee!” squealed Zarita. “That was fun!”
The rapids propelled them into an expanse of water—the lake that Doña Flor had mentioned! Ahead, the massive pool disappeared over a drop-off. Somewhere below, water rumbled.
Lázaro frantically waved Solimar toward the left.
“I’m trying! But the undertow is strong!” She stroked harder, but the canoe began to spin. Was there a whirlpool beneath the water? As much as she tried to paddle backward, Solimar could not prevent the canoe from being drawn toward the edge. The roar of the waterfall grew louder.
Lázaro took flight, circled, and dived back toward Solimar, flapping his wings and screeching a warning.
Zarita disappeared into Solimar’s pocket.
The canoe lurched forward. Fear overwhelmed her.
Unsinkable but not unbreakable.
She gripped the sides of the canoe tightly, her knuckles whitening.
She saw a net ahead! It stretched across the river from bank to bank, the top rope taut, the bottom web dangling like a curtain. Was it some sort of weir to catch fish? She didn’t care. If she could grab hold, it would be her salvation.
The canoe drew closer to the net. On the other side, the water tumbled and sprayed. As the front of the canoe slid beneath the net, she grabbed the top rope, scrambling for a foothold in the webbing. Cowbells tied on the rope clanged.
The canoe plummeted over the falls. Her heart sank as she watched it tumble downriver and split apart on the rocks below. The rope was wet and slippery. Solimar didn’t know how long she could hold on. She moved one hand and then the other. One foot and then the other. She gripped the rope as tightly as she could, swaying above the water. One hand slipped. She screamed and grabbed the net again, clinging to it.
The net began to move toward the far bank.
Someone was pulling her across the river!
Inch by inch, the net moved closer to the shore. When she was over solid ground beneath the trees, she let go.
Lázaro dove to her side.
Slowly, she sat up. “We made it, Lázaro! I’m not sure how…” She stared at the wide net that stretched across the entire river and back again, winding around what looked like giant spools on each bank.
A boy jumped in front of her and pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! It worked! I saved someone!” He grinned, proud of himself.
He looked a few years older than Solimar. His long, dark hair was tied back with string. His trousers had been cut off at the knees and were held up by a rope. A pair of binoculars dangled over a shirt that, although unstained, had the unmistakable dinginess of river water. Solimar had seen huaraches before—many villagers in San Gregorio wore the leather sandals—but none like these this boy wore, with thick rubber soles and heavy fabric straps crisscrossing his instep.
As he helped her up, he said, “I’m forgetting my manners. I’m Rigoberto Ayala Bernal, Berto for short. And you are?”
“I’m…I’m Solimar. And this is Lázaro.” Her pocket wiggled as Zarita tried to climb out, but Solimar gently pushed her back inside. It was too soon to introduce Zarita. “What is that contraption?”
“I call it the Confiscator. I wove a net waist-high and attached the top to a long rope, which is threaded onto the groove of old wagon wheels on each bank, parallel to the ground. When they rotate, the entire net moves in a giant loop. I got the idea after watching people in my village string clotheslines between buildings on a pulley. See…the wagon wheels are connected to gears that I can crank from this side. I’ve watched any number of things go over the falls. And it’s not a pretty sight. I’ve caught fish, of course, and once a lame duck, and another time a baby beaver. I returned it to its mother. But I’ve never caught a person before.” He smiled at her.
“It’s ingenious,” said Solimar. “It…you saved my life, and I’m grateful. Maybe someday I, or my family, can repay you. Right now, though, I’m in desperate need of a canoe. Mine went over the falls. By any chance, do you have one?”
“I have a way to get down the river, yes. But—”
“I can promise that if you help me get to Puerto Rivera, my father will be extremely grateful.”
Berto hesitated and shook his head. “I don’t…”
“Please? So much depends upon it. Will you at least hear me out?”
Berto shrugged and smiled. “Okay. I’ll listen, once we’re safe.” He swept an arm toward the branches above them.
She looked up. “Why must we talk wherever it is that you’re pointing?”
“Well, the sun will set within the hour, and dusk is when the coyotes, mountain lions, and skunks come to drink at the river.”
Lázaro flew into the tree and disappeared.
Solimar nodded. “You’re right. We should move. But…how?”
Almost completely camouflaged against a tree trunk, several ropes dangled. Berto pulled one—and above them, the canopy of leaves began to move.
The branches above them separated to reveal a platform built around the massive tree and fenced with bamboo and river reeds.
“It’s shaped like the hull of a boat,” said Solimar.
Berto laughed. “Precisely. The trunk is its mast; the canopy of leaves, its sails; and farther up…well, you’ll see.”
Berto pulled another rope.
A ladder descended to the ground.
He scaled the rungs and climbed through the opening to a deck above. He peeked down at her. “Welcome aboard.”
As Solimar quickly climbed up, one of the rungs cracked beneath her boot.
“Don’t worry. I can fix that!” he called, holding out a hand and helping her to the small landing. Berto hoisted the ropes, which lifted the ladder.
Within the leafy cover they were completely sheltered, except for a few dappled patches of sunlight, which Solimar carefully avoided. A row of shelves—long wood planks separated by large rocks—hugged the railing and held a collection of books, their covers and pages weathered and wrinkled.
“This is the library,” he said. “I fished the books from the river. They’re a little worse for their journey, but once I dry them, the pages are wrinkled but entirely readable. And there’s more.” He pointed upward. A narrow wood staircase spiraled around the thick trunk and disappeared.
“Where does it lead?” she asked.
“Come on!”
She followed him up to the cradle of the tree to a much larger landing. One corner was covered with a thatched roof and partially enclosed with a reed partition. Solimar peeked around it.
“Sleeping quarters,” said Berto, nodding to a hammock and a mattress that looked as if it had been made from blankets stuffed with feathers.
The rest of the platform was a shady open-air galley, with a large barrel for a table and two smaller ones for chairs. An upturned crate held a stack of plates, and a tower of teacups, most of them chipped. A metal tub sat on top of a large rock.
“What is this?” she asked, pointing to two ropes strung taut in the kitchen.
“Watch.” He pulled down on one of the ropes, hand over hand, until a small bucket appeared, spilling water into the tub.
“You put all this together from what you’ve found in the river?”
“Yes. Thanks to the Confiscator. The cowbells let me know when something is caught. You’d be surprised at what comes my way. The river just keeps on giving.”
She pointed to more stairs spiraling around the tree. “Where do they go?”
“I’ll show you after you change into some dry clothes.” He handed her a pair of baggy pants and a shirt, much like the ones he was wearing, and sent her behind the partition.
“Your clothes and life vest should be dry by morning,” he called.
As Solimar changed, a soggy Zarita crawled from the pocket. “How much longer must I be quiet?”
