The Dark Water by Seth Fishman

art on the scroll is familiar. My breath catches.
    â€œIt’s like the map,” I say, unable to help myself.
    Lisa looks up at me sharply, making it clear that Randt has told her about it. “You have seen the map?”
    â€œYes, we’ve seen it,” I say hurriedly, reminding myself that the Keepers don’t realize we have a copy of the map on Rob’s phone, “I just don’t remember most of it. That’s why your dad’s looking for mine. Wait, how much do you know about it?”
    She’s mollified and motions to the scroll. “My father speaks of the map often. Many, many cycles ago, instead of the Three that rule Capian, there were Ten. Ten Keepers who had partaken of the source. My father was one. My father says he did not want to leave; he thought some of them should stay below and keep. So did Arcos and Feileen, and the others did not disagree, but they themselves wished to explore. We do not know what happened to them, only that once they were Topside they were supposed to each go their own way to explore, and then return in one cycle. But they did not.”
    â€œWhy doesn’t someone else drink the source?” I ask.
    â€œBecause there cannot be more than the Ten. The source will not allow it. And because no other Keeper can take the source—they tried—the other Seven must be alive,” Lisa says. “My father says he believes the Seven found their answers but refuse to share with us, that they live happily in their lives, knowing the purpose of the source and of us and of everything. He was angry at them for this. Furious.” She frowns. “But when he began to sense the map, his mind changed; he believes the Seven are trying to communicate with us. He says they left us the map as a guide to them.” She’s staring into the scroll but her eyes are glazed. “This scroll,” she thumbs the parchment, “this is how my father uses the source, how he watches the Topside and how he first felt the map.” The scroll’s a rendering of a mountain carpeted with pine trees. Sun, clouds. A rough drawing of a summer’s day in the Rockies. Topside.
    â€œI thought you didn’t go Topside,” Rob says. “How do you have a painting of Colorado in the summer? This is like that image of the aqueduct you have near the elevator.”
    â€œI do not understand everything you say,” Lisa responds, her brow furrowed. “ ‘Colorado,’ ‘summer,’ I do not know every word. But the paintings on these scrolls, like your English, are brought to us through the water.”
    â€œThe water taught you English?” I exclaim, incredulous.
    â€œYes and no,” Lisa replies. “The source connects to the Topside, and the Three are connected to the source. Randt and the others have been listening for a very long time, recording, tracking, looking for the Seven, watching you. When the gates are open, they hear much. When they are closed, only impressions.” She pauses, motions to the painting on the scroll in front of us, as if to say
this
is merely an impression painting. “But the Three are very talented at understanding the impressions. It is their duty.”
    â€œWhy?” I ask. “Why do they care?”
    â€œWe are the Keepers,” she says, as if that explains everything. And maybe, to her, it does.
    â€œWait a minute, your dad painted all of these? There must be thousands. He just sits here and paints watercolors?” Rob asks.
    â€œFor a time every day, yes,” Lisa replies. “It is his greatest task.” She’s defensive, but proud of her father. I understand. My dad has strange hobbies too. Lisa starts rolling up this scroll, and we all stand there awkwardly for a moment. Then she smiles. “And ten cycles ago he made everyone learn as many Topside languages as they could.”
    â€œYour father’s progressive, huh?” I say, not really asking.