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  “That would be great. And who knows, there may be other eye adepts somewhere, in the …” He pointed up, but stopped himself before he said the words “real world.”

  “We call it the wider world,” Dexna said. “And there is no one else. Gracehope was settled a long time ago, Peter. Your mother and Mai were the first people to leave.”

  “Is my mom here?”

  Dexna nodded as one of the big doors opened and a heavyset man with short dark hair appeared. Peter had a vague memory of the same man coming to see him the night before, standing in the corner for a moment before rushing out again.

  “This is my son, Dolan,” Dexna said, “and these arethe Chikchu breeding grounds. Your mother used to spend most of her time here.” She gave another tsk and the dogs lurched eagerly forward. This is a place dogs like to be, Peter thought as the sleigh drew inside. Dolan closed the door and slid a lock into place.

  “Come on then,” Dolan said. He leaned forward, smiling. “Out with you.”

  Peter scrambled up awkwardly.

  “You're looking much improved today.” Dolan peered at Peter.

  “Much better today,” Peter said. “It was … a headache, really. A bad one, but it's gone now.”

  Dolan nodded. “Eye adept. I heard.”

  Peter looked around. They were in a large shed. A bunch of dogs were sitting or lying down inside little stalls, like something for horses. A few of them had splinted legs.

  “Your mother is out there among the pups.” Dolan pointed through a set of large doors in the far wall. Beyond them, Peter could see a dimly lit area, lightglobes turned down to a deep color that reminded him of the last of a fire. Little clusters of dogs were here and there. His mother sat near a big dog.

  He practically ran.

  “Peter!” His mother smiled widely and held out an arm to bring him in toward her. He sat down and let her hug him. It was a minute before he noticed the tiny puppy inher lap. Dark gray or black—it was hard to tell in the half-light—with white paws.

  “He's a runt,” she said. “Hers.” She pointed at a pretty dog across the sand who was nursing several other pups. “I can't take him too far. She's got her eye on me.”

  Peter rearranged himself so that he didn't obscure the dog's view of her baby.

  “And this is Norma.” His mother rubbed the big black dog stretched out on her other side. “She's an old friend.” Next to Norma was his mother's red notebook.

  She looked at him closely. “How's the head?”

  “Better. Much better. Sorry I kept falling asleep last night.”

  “Don't be silly.” She rubbed the puppy behind the ears. “You needed to sleep.”

  “I was going to tell you,” Peter started.

  She nodded. “About your sight? Or about stumbling across this place?”

  “Both. I think.”

  “I suppose there's a lot we could have told each other.”

  “How did you know that I was out there? In the snow?”

  “I heard Sasha calling—she sort of brought me back.”

  “She did? So do you—Does that mean that you can hear dogs, like Thea?”

  “Yes. I've been an ear adept since I was about your age.”

  “Did you get the headaches, too?”

  “I had them. Headaches are usually the first sign, for ear adepts. Apparently they are much worse for eye adepts. I had no idea what you were going through, Peter. I wish you had told me.”

  “And the other kind of headache … the kind you had yesterday, back in camp. Those aren't really headaches at all, are they?”

  His mother looked down. “No. Sometimes I need to … withdraw, I suppose. I have all of this sorrow inside me. At times I can hardly move.” She met his eyes. “I guess it felt easier to give it a name. I'm sorry.”

  Peter felt as if someone had just told him he could finally put down the two-ton boulder he'd been lugging around. He smiled at his mom and scooped up a handful of rough sand, letting it run through his fingers. “So what's it like, being an ear adept?”

  “All it means is that I can hear a wider range of sounds than most people, including the ones that the Chikchu use to communicate. I studied their signals. It's sort of like memorizing Morse code. What's it like being an eye adept?”

  “Pretty cool. I can sort of zoom in on things. I'm not very good at it yet, though.” He looked around. “Dexna says you used to spend a lot of your time here.”

  “I was Dolan's first apprentice. Second-in-charge, that means.”

  She had always told Peter she raised dogs as a child inEngland. The half-truth of that rankled inside him. What else didn't he know yet?

  “Where are your parents?” he asked suddenly. She'd always said they died before Peter was born.

  “My mother, Rowen, is here. I don't know who my father is.”

  “Can I meet your mom?”

  She shook her head slowly. “She's a very difficult person. Not like your friends' grandparents at all. Now is not the time for you to meet. I'm so sorry.” Another apology. He felt a gush of anger. She seemed to think that saying “I'm sorry” could make up for all of her lies. He pushed the feeling away and looked at the puppy in her lap.

  “Got any more of those lying around here?”

  She broke into a grin. “How thoughtless of me.”

  She showed him how to hold the tiny puppy so that it would feel safe. He hadn't realized it couldn't see yet. Peter cradled it in the crook of his arm, rubbing its head with one finger. It felt good to have something to hold on to.

  “So this is what your book is about, right? Mitochondrial DNA?”

  His mother smiled. “Yes. One woman—her name was Grace, she was your great-grandmother's great-grandmother, or something like that—figured out a lot of this science, and the world is starting to catch up withher a little. I was trying to put some of the pieces together for myself.”

  “And the bracelets—the ones that Dexna wears …”

  “They look a lot like mitochondrial DNA. Grace was fond of leaving clues.”

  “But how? She couldn't have known what it looks like! Way back then?”

  “It is hard to believe. But I can't think of any other explanation for it. I think she must have known things that science hasn't even discovered yet.” His mother sighed. “I wish she'd written more of it down.”

  “Weird. So can you understand dogs at home? I mean, in New York?”

  “Peter. New York is my home now. My only home. And no, I've never heard anything like a signal from a dog that wasn't a Chikchu. That was the amazing thing. When you blacked out, Sasha used a Chikchu call. It's an S.O.S. signal down here. I thought it was a Chikchu calling. Instead, I found Sasha, wrapped around you.”

  Peter shook his head. “She must have learned it from Thea's dogs, when they were calling for help for Mattias.”

  His mother nodded. “Dolan thinks so, too.”

  “Sasha's pretty amazing.”

  “Yes.” She was quiet for a minute. Then she said, “After everything that's happened, maybe we could have Daddy talk to someone about keeping Sasha.”

  “Really? You mean bring her home?”

  “If we can get permission to keep her in the apartment.”

  Peter imagined Sasha stretched out on his loft, lying in the square of light that came through the skylight in the afternoons. It seemed like the most natural thing in the world. And then his mind switched gears.

  “Did you tell Dad you were leaving? He must be so worried.”

  His mom nodded. “I didn't get to speak with him. But we had a plan worked out—you know Daddy, he's nothing if not a planner. There was a signal: a red flashlight, upside down on the table. I left it there when I heard Sasha's call.”

  “The red flashlight,” Peter said, remembering the box of black flashlights back in New York, with the one red one sitting right in the middle.

  She smiled. “It meant that I had found Gracehope.”

  “You didn't know where it
was,” Peter said slowly. Now it all made sense.

  “No, I couldn't find it. It's moved, along with a huge piece of the ice sheet, it seems.”

  “Moved where?”

  “West. Toward the sea.”

  “You mean the whole thing is sliding into the ocean?” He found himself whispering.

  “Well, yes, but slowly. Just not as slowly as we thought.”

  “Let me guess: global warming.”

  She smiled. “Now you know the whole story.”

  Hardly, he thought. “How did you get me down here?”

  “Sasha led me. I was trying to bring you back to camp, but she kept running in the other direction.”

  “What's Daddy supposed to tell Jonas? That we went for a really long walk?”

  “I don't know. Maybe that we decided to go to Qaanaaq, or out exploring.”

  “Won't Jonas think that's strange? Yesterday you couldn't even get out of bed.”

  She shrugged. “Probably. We'll be back in a few hours, anyway. We'll figure out something to tell him.”

  “A few hours? What are you talking about? We just got here!”

  She frowned. “We can't stay. Dexna is planning to tell everyone about the tunnel tomorrow morning.”

  “So?”

  “They may choose to destroy it, Peter. We have to leave while we can.”

  “Destroy it? But didn't you tell them that the ice is moving?” That was why they had come to Greenland, he realized. He sat up with a start. To tell these people what was happening.

  “Yes, I told Dexna what we know. But people here fear the wider world. I don't know what they'll do.”

  Peter shook his head. “But Dexna wants to teach meabout being an eye adept! And I haven't even seen Gracehope! This is about me, too! You're not being fair!”

  “I'm protecting you! That's my job!” His mother put her face into her hands, and Peter realized that this must have been one of the things she was afraid of, that he would want to stay. He thought of the note he found under their couch in New York. What's the worst that can happen?

  “Mom?”

  She lifted her head.

  “Just one more day,” he said. “We'll be okay here for one day. And Dad will understand.”

  She looked at him for a long time, and then she nodded.

  An hour later, Peter was watching a dog sing. Or that was what Thea told him the dog was doing. He didn't hear a sound.

  “Not very good, is she?” Thea had her hands over her ears.

  Peter's mother was wincing. “Well, that settles that,” she said to Peter. “An ear adept you aren't. You'll have to settle for being the first seer in two centuries.”

  Thea showed the dog a quick hand sign and it trotted happily away.

  “What was that?” Peter asked, trying to imitate her splayed fingers.

  “This?” Thea laughed, forming the sign again. “It means ‘food.’ I'll teach you. You'll have any Chikchu in Gracehope doing your bidding by tomorrow afternoon.”

  Except that he wouldn't be here tomorrow afternoon.

  “Will you be all right here until Dexna comes?” his mother asked him. “Thea has promised to take me to the gardens.”

  It was some consolation that he wasn't the only one who had to ride around facedown in the bottom of a sled. He nodded. “I'll be fine, Mom.”

  When his mother started for the main house, Peter went to find the runt. The tiny Chikchu was curled up in his usual spot under Cassie's chin while the other puppies tumbled around on the sand or nursed.

  “Lazy,” Peter said, looking down at him.

  Cassie lifted her head and gave a quiet sniff, reminding Peter to offer her his hand. “I didn't mean you.”

  The runt stirred and woke, then went through a series of stretches and yawns so elaborate that Peter laughed out loud.

  “Come on, little white feet,” he said, scooping up the pup with one hand, “you can't sleep your life away in a box.” Peter held the dog close to his face, and the puppy kneaded his cheek with his two front paws. His mothersaid that it was good for the puppies to get used to people. When the runt opened his eyes—any day now, Thea said firmly—he would have a companion to visit him like his brothers and sisters did, but for now Peter was more than happy to have the job. He set the dog down in the sand and tickled his belly.

  “I can't hear you,” he told the pup, who had rolled onto his back. “But I hope you're laughing.”

  Before long, Dexna made her way across the sands, a book under one arm. He put the runt back with his mother and stood up.

  She nodded at him. Peter knew that she spoke to very few people, and was grateful that she talked to him at all. He wasn't sure he would be able to bear this woman in complete silence.

  Dexna took off her bright green wrap, gathered her skirts, and sat next to him. She must have come by sled— sleigh, he corrected himself. No one skated in skirts, according to Thea.

  “Let's begin.” Dexna smiled at him. She had a really warm smile. The smile went with her eyes, and her clothes.

  Peter nodded and closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them slowly.

  “Look at the main house,” she said. “Do you see the harness pegs along the beam?”

  He turned his gaze to the main house, where the doorsleading onto the sands stood wide open. The outer doors, the ones leading to the Mainway and the rest of Gracehope, were barred. They always were, when Peter was here.

  A smooth wooden beam ran across the ceiling of the main house. Another piece of the whaling ship, he supposed. All sorts of things hung from it on hooks and pegs—tools, lightglobes, and netted bags.

  “I see them.”

  “One of the pegs is different from the others,” Dexna said.

  That was his task, then. Peter held his gaze steady, stilling his eyes and trying not to blink. Soon the fluttering began, just at the very edges of his vision. The movement was almost lazy at first. He waited.

  The shimmering moved like a contracting lens, reaching in toward the place he held his gaze. The wooden beam. The pegs on the beam. Everything around them was weaving now, as if he were looking through some terrific heat. An invisible inferno.

  Then Dolan walked into the scene, carrying a stack of woven blankets. Peter's gaze broke toward him for a second. The fluttering was gone. He blinked and sighed. At least there was no headache yet. “Dolan came in.”

  Dexna nodded. “I asked him to walk about a little. You must learn how to ignore distractions.”

  Peter started again. This time it went quickly. In lessthan half a minute, he was staring at the grain of the wooden beam. Too close.

  Pulling back was difficult. It caused an ache across the tops of his eyes, as if he were trying to roll them back into his head. He stretched his sight away from the wood grain until he had a view of a peg, then two pegs, then three. He could see the stretched material of the hanging harnesses, and stains left by the animals' sweat.

  He looked carefully at the pegs, all of them sealed ice— Peter could recognize the grayish sheen of the stuff now. He moved down the row, panning like a movie camera, until the last peg came into his circle of vision. Light bounced off of it so painfully he couldn't believe he hadn't seen it straight away. Someone must polish it regularly.

  “The last peg is metal,” he said with satisfaction. “Brass?”

  “Yes,” Dexna said.

  Peter smiled. “What's next?”

  Dexna sighed. “I don't know. Much of this knowledge was taken for granted once. Let's try another one.”

  By the time Dexna left an hour later, Peter was tired. He felt a slight pressure behind his eyes, but had managed not to get a headache, which meant he was doing everything right, Dexna said.

  She had offered him a ride back to the archive, butPeter wasn't ready for the closeness and the warmth of that place. Instead, he helped Dolan load three sleighs with sacks and sacks of food for the Chikchu. Errand boys would deliver them to the companion shelters later. Peter was pre
tty sure that delivering dog food wasn't a job many people would jump for, but he thought of those boys jealously. So far, the breeding grounds and the archive were the only two places he had been allowed. Thea had offered to take him skating on the backways in the dead of night, but Dexna shook her head.

  When the sleighs were loaded and ready to go, Peter sat with Sasha in the main house. He had begun to tell her about New York: He described his loft, where they would both sleep, and the dog run where he would take her every afternoon, and he told her the names of the dogs he knew around the neighborhood, the ones his mother had made friends with over the years. There was a German shepherd named Maggie that he thought Sasha would especially like. Peter sat cross-legged and talked, and Sasha leaned hard against him until he took the hint and rubbed her chest.

  A bell sounded, and Dolan asked him, apologetically, to step out onto the sands so that he could open the front doors. The errand boys had arrived to pick up their deliveries.

  The runt's mom was off somewhere, and a few of thepuppies were play-fighting in the whelping box. Peter found the runt alone, a few feet from the box. He watched the tiny dog lurch around on the sand. The poor thing couldn't seem to find his way back home.

  “You're going the wrong way, Feet,” Peter said. “I thought you guys could hear each other.” Peter scooped up the puppy and held him up to his face for a moment before sitting down with him on the sand.

  The bigger pups were rolling around in the whelping box. Peter began to narrate the action for Feet. It was something Miles did when he was practicing to be a sportscaster.

  “Black's on top! He's rolled Stripes onto his back—no, Stripes is up, he's backing Black into a corner. White is in there now—she's jumped on both of them, she's all over the place, oops, she's rolled out of the box. Okay, White's back, she's in again. No, wait, she's walking away. White's curled up in the corner! C'mon, White, get back in the game!”

  Feet sat up in Peter's lap, his face tilted toward the sound of Peter's voice until Cassie came back and put an end to her puppies'wrestling.

  Exhaustion settled slowly over Peter, and after a while he stretched out next to the whelping box and looked at the tiny dog next to him. “You have to work on opening your eyes, okay, Feet? Thea says it's important. We'll both work on our eyes. You and me. Now go on back toyour mom.” He rested his head on one arm and watched the puppy.