Nightpeople (27 page)

Filled now, the bucket jerked slowly upwards. Droplets of water splashed as it swung, catching the light like falling vaultlights. Saria watched it go. Then she became aware that she was shivering and she waded carefully from the lake.

Three more times she watched the bucket drop down and fill, and each time she had to resist the urge to shout. Eventually, the distant echo of voices faded, and she was alone again.

Slowly she eased around the rock shelf until it vanished where the stream ran down the rockfall. Here, one of the large stone fingers from the roof had fallen and lay on its side. Saria ran her hand over it. The stone had a smooth, slippery feel. The piece was longer than her arm, thick at one end, but tapering down to a rounded point no wider than her finger. The thick end, where it had broken off from the roof, was rough and uneven. It was also surprisingly heavy. Saria tried to pick it up, but was unable. When she pushed it, however, it rolled just a little and soon Saria was manoeuvring the long finger of stone along the rock shelf. When she reached the point at which she had entered the water earlier, she set about rolling the stone into the lake, out to the light.

She had been so focused on moving the stone that she hadn't noticed how dark it was becoming. The dayvault was fading and soon it would be as dark by the lake as it had been in the cavern on the other side of the rock-fall. She wondered what was happening up in Woormra, now that Slander was in charge. If he was letting people go about their usual routines, then a few would come to the well at the end of the day to get a last load of water for the evening. Assuming they did, it would be her last chance to get hold of the rope. Otherwise she'd have to wait until the following night.

In the water the stone was difficult to move. At first she was able to push it using her feet, but it soon became too deep to get sufficient purchase. Finally, she waded back to the edge and pulled off her dress.

Back in the darkening lake, she ignored the cold and the sensation of fear as the water closed around her. Soon she tripped on the submerged stone, took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and plunged down.

The coldness made her gasp and the air burst from her, silvery bubbles sliding to the surface, but she was able to reach down, work her fingers under the heavy stone and roll it a decent distance across the bottom of the lake.

By the time she was standing almost directly beneath the well, the pointed stone column under her feet, the dayvault had faded to a deep purple and a couple of vaultlights were visible through the opening. Saria kept her gaze locked on them. The icy water chilled her to her core, the sensation bringing back to her the memory of a coldblood cooling in the twilight. The longer she stood waiting, the colder she became. Shivers shuddered through her body as it tried in vain to warm itself.

She wondered how much longer she'd be able to stand there before she'd need to get out of the water and warm up. Above her the well tunnel had almost vanished now, the ceiling of the cave blending with the black of the nightvault. Only the two tiny vaultlights directly above her gave any indication of where the hole opened up.

Slander and his men must be keeping everyone away from the well. Nobody was coming.

‘Well, lower it down there, idiot!'

The voice floated down from above and rang around the chamber. Startled, Saria strained her eyes upwards into the gloom, and detected the vaguest hint of movement somewhere near the roof of the cave. Her toes curled reassuringly against the sunken rock.

When the bucket arrived at the pool, Saria grabbed the rope, pulling gently to give the impression that the weight of the bucket was still on the line. Whoever was lowering the rope continued to pay out slack into the darkness, until finally, once a large loop was floating on the surface around her, she let go.

‘It's bloody deep!' A different voice rang around the chamber. The men must have been looking directly down the well for their voices to carry so clearly.

‘Good water, though.'

‘Yeah. No wonder Slander'd rather have this place for us.'

‘Chuck a couple of rocks down and see how deep it goes, eh?'

Saria's eyes widened in horror as from above came the clatter of a stone against the walls of the well tunnel. She stared up, trying to see the falling rock before it landed on her. Seconds later a boulder about the size of her fist plonked into the water right beside her. Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she ducked under the water She had to work quickly now, before the men tried retracting the bucket.

Extending the loop ahead of her, she probed with her free hand to find the narrow, pointed end of the rock, then worked the rope underneath, sliding it towards the thick end and wedging it tightly between the rock and the floor of the lake.

Two more times she ducked under, each time working the rope further and further back until, as she was about to dive for the fourth time, the slack went out of it.

‘You want a hand?'

‘Yeah,' the other man grunted. ‘It's bloody heavy!'

Saria held on to the knotted leather, adding her weight to that of the stone. The rope jerked and flicked in her hands as the two men yanked furiously, throwing their combined weight onto it. A curse floated down.

‘Does it do this all the time?'

‘Buggered if I know.'

‘Hang on. I'll go get Am.'

A couple of moments later the tugging restarted, even stronger now. Saria clung on as the rock below her shifted. She held her breath. If the rope came out, she was lost; she'd never be able to hold it against the combined strength of three men. Eventually, though, the bizarre tug-of-war ended and the rope went slack.

‘What d'ya reckon?'

‘Dunno. Pretty bloody snagged, I'd say.'

‘Probably that boulder you threw down there, you idiot.'

‘You told me to do it.'

‘So whadda we do, eh? Slander's gonna kill us.'

‘If he finds out.'

‘Eh?'

‘Let's just take off and leave it. He'll think some of the Woormra mob got out and did it. Let him take it out on them. That's what I reckon.'

‘Good thinkin'.'

‘You two got enough water for the night?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Let's make ourselves scarce, then.'

The voices faded.

It took all of Saria's self-control not to go clambering straight up the rope. But she knew it was still far too early. She'd wait until the middle of the night before making her ascent. She stood shivering in the water for quite a while longer, just in case someone else came along and tried the rope. Eventually, the numbing coldness of the water was too much, and she left the rope snagged securely beneath the stone and waded back to the edge.

Standing in the water for so long had left her skin wrinkled and creased, and the moment she was out of it she sank onto the stone shelf and set about rubbing some feeling back into her toes and feet. The throb of blood returning sent shudders of pain the length of her legs. Once she was satisfied that sensation had completely returned, she pulled her still-damp clothes back over her head and sat and waited.

The faint illumination cast by the vaultlights down the narrow neck of the well was enough to throw a dull shimmer off the surface of the underground pool. As the last tremors of her efforts with the rope slowly undulated forward and backwards across the gleaming water, it again took on a solid appearance, looking smooth and hard and unlike anything else in the Darklands.

The darkness played with her, turning her thoughts again and again to things she was trying to push to the back of her mind. No matter how hard she tried, the soft ‘thunk' of the stone as it connected with Dreamer Wanji's temple still rang clearly in her memory, as did the sight of the old man folding as though his bones had suddenly become as insubstantial as the water in the lake.

Perhaps he was okay. Perhaps he'd only been knocked out.

The thought brought little comfort. Dreamer Gaardi had pronounced him dead, after all.

And Dariand. She hardly dared think about what might have happened to him. Could he have managed to escape Slander's men and be waiting for her up there, waiting to take her away?

What if he wasn't? Saria was suddenly aware that she had no idea what she was going to do if she managed to get up the rope. If everyone was gone, or dead, or captured, what choices would she have? Where would she go?

SARIA!

She must have fallen asleep, because when the call woke her the chamber was lit by a pale silver beam of moonlight, angling down the well.

SARIA!

It came again, and the rock around her sang in her mind.

Nightwards.

She'd go nightwards, of course. Hoping it was late enough, Saria knotted the laces ofher shoes around her neck and slung the waterskin over her shoulder, then waded into the lake for what she hoped would be the last time.

Taking a moment to refill her water-skin, Saria first unsnagged the rope and bucket from the stone, then began to pull herself upwards.

Desperation and adrenaline made the climb surprisingly easy. The full bucket on the bottom stopped the rope from swinging around too much and the knots and loops provided effective hand and footholds. She shimmied upwards, her eyes on the pale silver circle of the nightvault, which grew steadily closer. After only a couple of minutes she reached the roof of the cavern, where it entered the bottom of the well.

The well was only slightly wider than her shoulders, and the walls slimy with damp and moss. The taste of the air became drier and more dusty as she approached the top. Muscles burning, she reached one hand out over the low stone lip of the well, then the other and pulled herself clear, out into the open air.

She dropped onto the muddy dirt of the common, lying on her back and gasping. Through the pain in her arms and the relief in her mind, she felt as if she had come out of the belly of the Earthmother a different person from the one who had crouched hidden in the council chamber the day before.

As though hearing her thoughts, earthwarmth surged through her.

Above her, millions of vaultlights were alive and swimming through the night. After lying and gazing into the inky depths of the nightvault for a few minutes longer, she forced herself to her feet again. The longer she lingered in Woormra, the more chance she had ofbeing caught.

Dariand's hut was deserted, which wasn't surprising. She allowed herself a moment's concern for him. Perhaps she should try and find him before she left – at least try to find out what they'd done with him.

She pushed the thought back. Dariand would be the first to tell her to leave as fast as possible.

All the same, the thought of what Slander might have done – or be doing – to Dariand made her chest tighten. As hard as she tried not to, she remembered the touch of his lips when he'd kissed her forehead, and the feeling of his arms around her when he'd hugged her. Something about him made her feel secure, and now the knowledge that he might be dead, like Dreamer Wanji, like the dog …

Saria held back the tears. She
would
be strong.

SARIA!

The call was different now, too. Her journey through the caves had done something to her, attuned her to it. It flowed into her more sharply, and in turn she found herself making less effort to resist it.

But the memory of Dreamer Baanti, and the dog, and what her reaching had done to both of them, was still clear in her mind. And the call was a part of it. No matter how tempting it was to simply fall into that flow of energy and let it fill her, she was determined to hold herself against it.

Resolutely, Saria reset her mental barriers and pushed the call away.

She raided what was left of Dariand's food supply, gorging herself and taking all the dried meat she could carry.

Then, water-skin slung behind, shoes re-laced, she slid back out around the side of the hut and wound through the alleyways, working towards the edge of the town. Around her there was an almost deathly silence hanging. Even the huts which should have been inhabited with old people snoring their way through the night were dead and empty. It was almost a relief to pass into the ring of unused huts – at least she was used to them being empty. She let herself relax slightly and move more confidently, and was lucky that she heard the men before they detected her.

‘Hey!'

‘What?'

‘You hear something?'

Saria barely had time to melt into the shadows and freeze before two shapes emerged into the alleyway ahead of her.

‘Nah. What'd it sound like?'

She knew the voices. It was the two men who'd lowered the bucket earlier that night.

‘Someone running. But real quiet, like.'

Saria held her breath and willed herself not to twitch. Around her the night seemed to stand still also.

‘You're imaginin' things. There ent nobody here, and we ent gonna find anyone either, eh?'

The second man didn't try to hide the disgruntled tone in his voice.

‘Still, Slander said we gotta look …'

‘Slander's gone crazy. He shouldn't have killed that Dreamer, if you ask me. That's never a good idea. And now he's lost the girl, too.'

‘Lost her?'

‘Yeah. Why'd you reckon we're searchin' all these bloody huts in the dark, eh? Only ones that knew where she was were Dreamer Wanji and Dariand. An' then Slander goes and kills the old man.'

‘Yeah, but Dariand will tell …'

‘Ah, rubbish' Arri. That nightwalker won't give Slander a thing.'

‘He might.'

‘Even Slander won't get the truth outa Dariand. Not where that girl's concerned
_'
anyway.'

Saria's heart thumped in her chest. Dariand was alive. That was something. The two men were moving away from her now' towards the next hut. Their voices faded as their last words floated through the still night.