Nightpeople (21 page)

Saria woke to the warm lick of the dog's tongue across her cheek.

‘Get off.' She pushed it away, but gently.

Her back ached from sleeping so long on the hard ground, and as soon as she sat up she felt the angry sting of sunburnt skin stretched tightly across her arms and left leg. The shade of the tree had proven inadequate against the power of the sun.

She stood up, muscles protesting, and stared at the dayvault, trying to get some sense of how long she'd slept.

It had been a while, that was for sure. The sun was high in the dayvault, possibly already starting its descent to the nightwards horizon.

Dariand would be furious with her for being gone for so long. Vaguely she wondered why he hadn't come looking. Surely a nightwalker would have been able to find her if he'd wanted to.

With a large yawn, Saria set off back along her tracks towards Woormra. Her mouth and throat were parched with dust, but she had nothing with which to quench her thirst, so she simply tried not to dwell on it.

Beside her, the dog panted, its mouth wide and its tongue lolling as it too tried to keep itself cool. Saria felt a pang of guilt at having dragged it all this way without thinking about its comfort.

‘Sorry, boy,' she muttered. The dog gave no sign of understanding her.

She'd run much further than she'd intended. Each time they crested an undulation in the sand, she expected to look down and see Woormra there in front of her, but again and again they were met only with shallow, empty depressions in the earth, their twin tracks vanishing nightwards up the far side. Finally, they laboured up what seemed to be a particularly long, shallow slope, and the ramshackle spread of Woormra sprawled in the dirt ahead.

‘Home,' Saria told the animal. She took a couple of steps down the slope, then stopped.

She'd never thought of Woormra as home. Home was the valley, and Ma Lee. Not this falling-down collection of broken lives that hunkered around its narrow well in the middle of nothing.

But it was. Somehow, her fate had become tangled up with this town and everyone in it.

‘I really need water,' she told the dog, and together they scurried down the slope and into the shade of the outer huts.

On the edge of the township most of the huts were abandoned. Those bits of wood and tin that hadn't yet been scavenged to repair the central huts were slowly being scoured back into the landscape. As they moved further in towards the well, though, they passed more and more occupied dwellings.

Most were shuttered against the heat of the day, and in more than a couple Saria heard clearly the snores of the occupants. Sesta time, then. To the ageing population of Woormra, sesta was almost as important a part of the day as the evening gatherings in the common. Quietly and assuredly, Saria and the dog slipped through the empty streets.

Dariand's hut was empty, his water-skins missing, so he'd obviously gone somewhere. To look for her, she imagined. Why he hadn't found her was a mystery. She'd left tracks clear enough that any one of the old people could have found her if they'd a mind to, let alone a nightwalker.

She could wonder about that later, she decided. For the moment her thirst was her main concern. She and the dog both needed to drink, and soon. Emerging back into the afternoon, she crossed briskly to the well.

Usually the well was surrounded by a small gaggle of women who'd come as much to gossip as to get water. Saria had watched them from a distance, safely hidden in the shadows. The old women scared her. She was always aware of their stares when she passed. She noticed the way their conversations would stop the moment she came close, and how they would stay silent until she was well out of earshot.

And so generally she kept as far from them as possible. At this time of the day, just like the afternoon she'd found the dog outside Dariand's hut, the well was deserted.

She lowered the bucket into the darkness, trying not to stare down after it. The inky depths of the hole were still uncomfortably similar to Dreamer Baanti's dark stare. At least, similar to how it had been before she'd …

The sudden slackening of the knotted rope through her fingers brought her out of her reverie. She was careful not to let the bucket become overfull before hauling it upwards, and this time it swung up far more easily out of the darkness.

‘There you go, then.'

She knelt in the muddy dirt beside the dog and the two of them lapped the cold water straight from the bucket. It seemed to disappear in moments.

‘Want more?'

She lowered the bucket and refilled it, and they were halfway through the second load when a bony finger tapped her on the shoulder.

‘Whacha doin', girl? Thirsty, eh?'

Startled, Saria leapt to her feet, whirled around and found herself facing Darri, who she remembered from her first afternoon in the town. A gleeful expression filled the old woman's face.

‘What do you want?' Saria tried to back away, but the lip of the well was behind her and Darri advanced before she had time to move around it.

‘Don't want nothin'. Just wanna talk. Nothin' wrong with talkin'.'

The woman lunged forward, both hands outstretched towards Saria's chest, and Saria involuntarily jerked back. As she did, the stone parapet of the well caught the back of her knees and she toppled backwards, her arms flailing desperately as she tried to recover her balance. Her feet slipped in the mud, and suddenly she was tipping further and further, horribly aware of the gaping hole in the earth behind her.

The old woman grabbed her with a strength belied by her bent frame and skinny arms. Digging hard fingers into the soft flesh at the top of Saria's arms, she pulled the girl easily back to her feet.

‘You don't wanna be tumbling down there, now, do yer?'

Saria's balance returned but the old woman didn't let go. Instead she continued to grip hard until the pain drew a gasp from Saria.

‘Look at me,' Darri commanded, and shook her until Saria stared into the other woman's face.

The withered old woman returned the gaze with a bright and sparkling look. Her eyes weren't old or dull, but alive – a little like Dreamer Gaardi's.

The moment passed and Darri released her.

‘You the one, alright.'

‘What one?'

‘Psht.' The old woman spat. ‘You're me gran'daughter.'

‘What?'

‘They didn't tell you about me, did they? Dreamer Wanji and that Dariand?'

Saria shook her head. ‘Tell me what?'

‘Bastards. You're me gran'daughter,' she repeated. Then, noticing Saria's uncomprehending expression, ‘Me daughter's daughter, right?'

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in.

‘You're my … you're Jani's … mother?'

‘Right!' Darri beamed and smiled, showing crooked and missing teeth. ‘My girl, Jani, she had you before them Nightpeople bastards came and took her off. You got her eyes, though. Pick ‘em anywhere, I could.'

‘But Dreamer Wanji and Dariand never said anything about …'

‘Those blokes wouldn't know their arse from a hole in the ground, eh? They're playin' their games and they didn't want you to know ‘bout me. Wouldn't fit their plans.'

‘Plans?'

‘Silly bastards think they know the Earthmother. They reckon they can make her work this world to their way of thinking, instead of them workin' it to hers, which is how it should be. Hah! They don't know nothin'.'

Saria studied the woman, taking in every crease and curve of the old face.

‘Tell you somethin'.' Darri leaned in close, lowering her voice to a whisper. ‘My Jani, yer mum, she ent dead, either. These dumb buggers ‘round here think she is, just ‘cause Nightpeople took her, but both my girls are still livin' – her and you.' There were tears now in the woman's eyes.

‘How can she be alive when …'

‘A mother knows these things, right? I feel her. Feel her in here.' The old woman patted herself low on her belly. ‘Nights, mostly. She comes talkin' through the Earthmother.'

‘How can she do that? What do you mean, she talks to you?'

‘I got the reaching, I have. Just like you and my Jani.'

Saria stared at the old woman, trying to find something in her face to indicate that she was joking. There was nothing.

‘Dreamer Wanji said women don't get it. He said I was the first.'

‘Told you, didn't I? Those fellas reckon they're doin' the right thing, but truth is they don't know much at all. They think they know everythin', but old Darri knows the truth. I got reaching, just like you. Just like your mum had it, and a lot of other women besides, eh? And I know my Jani's somewhere out there over the Darkedge. Bet you hear her too, eh? Callin' you?'

The world around her seemed to freeze while Saria stared at the old woman. It was impossible – everything she was saying. Dreamer Wanji would have told her. Or Dariand.

But even as she tried to convince herself, Saria couldn't forget all the lies. Trust
me.
It was Dariand's favourite expression. But he'd never explained reaching to her. Or burning. And Dreamer Wanji – he hadn't told her about what she'd done to Dreamer Baanti; he wasn't even planning to. They'd done nothing to earn her trust, either of them.

‘Darri! What you doin', old girl?'

The call came from a tall woman who'd emerged from one of the huts on the far side of the common.

‘Ah crap!' Darri whispered as the other woman hurried towards them. ‘Listen…' Darri lowered her voice to an urgent whisper. ‘You do hear her, right? My Jani? Don't you?'

Saria nodded, mutely.

‘Thought so. You gotta find her. That's your mission, girl. Your task. Forget all this camel dung of Dreamer Wanji's. You go find my Jani and bring her back, eh? That's what the Earthmother wants. Get her back here to her own blood land, so she can be peaceful.'

She was going to say more, but suddenly the tall woman was beside them, seizing Darri's arm and whirling her away from Saria.

‘What rubbish have you been tellin' this girl, eh?'

‘Nothin'. You bugger off.'

‘I've told you a hundred times not to wander round in the middle of the day. Fry those brains of yours even more than they already are, you silly old bitch.'

‘I gotta right to talk to me gran'daughter.'

‘Hah! Granddaughter is it now? Come on, let's get you back home, eh?'

The woman started to pull Darri back towards her hut, forcefully enough that the older woman was left with little choice but to follow. Before they'd gone too far, the tall woman stopped and looked back over her shoulder.

‘Don't you believe a single word this one says, right? Soft in the head, she is, an' talks a lot of crap.'

‘We were only talking.'

‘Yeah? Well, talk is fine, but don't you go thinking that anything Darri here says means anythin'. Like I say, she's crazy mad.'

Before Saria could respond, Darri was marched into her hut. Beside her, the dog had reappeared and nosed at her bare leg. It had vanished the moment Darri arrived and Saria had barely noticed it go.

‘Where'd you get to?' Saria ran her fingers along the dog's back, combing them absent-mindedly through the dusty coat. In response, the animal twitched its tail slightly and whined softly.

‘You want more water? Is that it?'

She was halfway though pulling up another bucketload from the well, when the dog stiffened.

‘What is it?'

‘Saria!' She looked up to find Dariand jogging across the common. Behind him, over near their hut, Dreamer Wanji stood in the shade and watched, shaking his head. Sighing, Saria braced herself for the nightwalker's anger. To her surprise, as he came closer his expression was more a mixture of relief and concern than anything else.

‘Night spirits, girl! Where'd you disappear to?'

‘We walked daywards for a while. I fell asleep under a tree.'

‘Dreamer Wanji and I have been looking all over for you.'

‘I left clear tracks …'

‘We didn't look outside town. Thought you'd stay closer.'

‘I told you I wouldn't go anywhere.'

‘I know. We were just … worried. You alright?'

‘Fine.'

‘That arm looks burnt.'

‘Just the sun. While I was asleep.'

‘You should have taken your robe.'

‘I didn't think I'd be gone so long. Or so far out.'

‘Let me fill up my skins and we'll go to the hut and put something on it.'

Dariand lowered the bucket and filled his water-skins, and then Saria trailed him back to the hut. Inside was dark and cool and Saria fell thankfully onto her sleeping mat.

‘Don't sleep yet,' Dariand told her. ‘I want to put something on your burns.'

Obediently she showed him her arms and leg.

‘They aren't as bad as they look,' he muttered, as much to himself as to her. He shook some sort of white powder into a clay pot, mixed it with a small squirt of water, then smeared the resulting paste onto the sunburn. ‘This will cool it off and help it heal faster.'