Part 1 (2/2)
”All mucked with blood.” That was Maruha.
”Witchery,” muttered Collum.
”I can't quite...” Maruha began.
The girl felt a shooting pain behind her ear and screamed. With a gasp, the duarough woman jerked her hand away as the upperlander pitched to the sand, covering her head with her arms, shrieking. They mustn't touch it! No one must touch it. She herself must never so much as lay a finger on the beautiful and terrible silver pin. Maruha sat down upon the sand, cradling her hand.
”Lons and Ancientlady!” she panted, flexing her fingers and then shaking her hand. ”But that thing is Witch's work, and no mistake. It's cold, colder than shadow.”
”It hasn't harmed you?” Brandl said anxiously.
”No, I only brushed it-lucky! Sooth, we must take this child back to the others when we finish our circuit-”
”Fie, no!” Collum protested. ”If she's Witched, she mustn't come within leagues of our last hidden hold...!”
”Oh, be still,” Maruha growled, getting to her feet and dusting the sand from her. ”The child is starving and thirsting and in need of our help.”
Help. The word reminded the pale girl of something, something... She remembered the face of the young man again, lit only by starlight, half-turned from her. ”You cannot help me,” he whispered. ”I can love no mortal woman while the White Witch lives.” Help, help me! she wanted to cry, but the pin robbed her of speech as well as of memory. The young man's image faded even as she groped for it. She buried her face in her arms and wept. Maruha bent to touch her.
”Come, child,” she said softly. ”Come with us.”
The girl lay unmoving, spent. Nothing made sense. She was so weary. She wanted only to rest. Maruha took her by the arm and hauled her upright.”Help me, Collum,” she panted. ”We'll have to carry her.”
The bearded duarough remained where he was, arms folded. It was Brandl who came and took the upperlander's other arm. He smelled of grease and candle wax. The scent made her stomach twist and clench, she was so famished. She felt she might swoon. Maruha glared at Collum.
”Suit yourself,” she snapped. ”I do not know who this child is or why she wears the Witch's pin. But I do know that it marks her as no friend to our great enemy, and by the Ancientlady Ravenna, I mean to get it out.”
TWO.
Underpaths
Fish, delicious fish, each as big as her finger: grilled in oil with succulent white flesh and bones as soft as sprouting shoots.
The pale girl licked her lips and searched the dish for more. She had been without the duaroughs how long now-a week of hours? A daymonth? Here below-ground, without the light of Solstar and the infinitesimal turning of the stars, she had no sense of the pa.s.sage of time.
Her companions spent hours tramping the endless corridors, laying camp only at long intervals. The pearl's faint glow pa.s.sed unnoticed in the darting glare of the fingerlamps the duaroughs carried. Brandl's gaze was always on her; he looked away. Maruha was the kind one, giving her food and drink, even combing out her matted hair, careful now to leave the silver pin alone. The pale girl s.h.i.+vered at the thought of the pin. It never ceased to pain her, but she found that as long as she did not try to remember or speak, the ache was bearable.
She and the duaroughs pa.s.sed no more open water on their treks, though they crossed many more streambeds-all dry.
The underpaths were desiccated, their moisture long vanished. Yet, Maruha always knew where to find water at need. From time to time, with one well-placed blow of her pick, she could release from the pa.s.sage wall a thin spout. Then the girl drank greedily until Collum shouldered her aside so that he might fill their waterskins. After, Maruha stopped the flow with a peg and marked the wall with a complicated scratch. They moved on.
Whenever they came to a fork, the duaroughs paused and consulted a square of parchment: ancient, brown, and cracking along the folds. The girl saw lines crisscrossing the surface, some of them leading to a great starburst in the center. None of it meant a thing to her. She could not read.
Now and again, they came upon Ancient machinery, and each time, the duaroughs halted to examine it. Long untended, crusted with green and blood-colored flakes, most of it hardly functioned, only the faintest hum coming from its clockwork depths. Some of it did not function at all. Maruha shook her head once sadly when Collum rushed to press his ear to a device.
”We could save it,” he said softly. ”It wouldn't take long. Only half a hundred hours-we could save it! It hasn't been tended in years upon years.”
Maruha again shook her head, more firmly now. ”We're just a survey expedition. Mark it on the map, and others will come to tend it in our stead.”
”If it lasts so long,” Brandl murmured.
Collum rose, scowling furiously, and stalked away.
”Perish the Witch,” the pale girl heard him mutter. From beneath tangled brows, he glared at her. ”Perish the Witch and all her works!”
More often than not, the paths they took were narrow and precipitous. Maruha usually went first, her fingerlamp bobbing.
Brandl followed, shepherding the girl, with Collum bringing up the rear. They had taken one such way not many hours past: bits of the ceiling littered the steep grade, which seemed not to have been traveled in an age.
”Fine path this is,” snorted the bearded duarough, losing his balance and sending a shower of scree down upon the others.
”If such were all they had in Ancient days, it's a wonder any of them survived to reach the City.” The last word was mumbled, his voice taking on a superst.i.tious edge.
”I've told you, this isn't the main path,” Maruha snapped, her fingerlamp waving wildly as she scrabbled to keep her own footing. ”It's back alleys and service corridors we're taking. The pilgrims' roads were sealed long since. You know that.””When Ravenna first withdrew from the world?” Brandl ventured.
No one answered him. Gingerly, he guided the pale girl over the rough, slippery stones. She never lost her footing, moved with an unerring sureness, listening without attention to what the others were saying. The pain of the pin lessened when she did not concentrate.
”Do you think we could ever go there?” the young duarough tried again. ”To the City? Just to see it. We're so close.”
”No!” Maruha threw back over one shoulder. The path was too precarious to let her turn safely to glower at him. ”It's sealed. No one's been to the City of Crystalgla.s.s in time out of mind.”
A little silence. The pin stirred. Deliberately unfocusing her thoughts, the girl watched the play of lamplight on the walls for a few moments until the twinging ceased. Behind her, Collum slipped again and cursed.
”Oh, stop complaining,” Maruha panted. ”Taking these routes, we're less likely to meet weaselhounds, or others of the Witch's brood.”
Beside the pale girl, Brandl shuddered, but no one said anything more.
They had laid camp not long after, and the duaroughs now sat at their ease. The girl licked her fingers again. There were no more fish. Her eyelids slid sleepily halfway down. Surrounded by companions, she felt safe from the Shadow's pursuit. No memories had troubled her during their last march. The pin hardly hurt at all now. She sighed lazily, scarcely heeding what the other three were saying.
”Well, tell me the use of keeping her,” Collum was muttering, combing his fingers through his coa.r.s.e grey beard. ”Our people have no craft for the removing of such a pin. We are skilled in the maintenance of Ancient devices, not in instruments of witchery.”
Beside him, Maruha sighed. ”If only my brother were here! He would know what to do. Sorcery was always his study, never machines.”
”Your brother vanished into the upperlands handfuls upon hundreds of years ago,” the other answered. ”Fine help he is to us now.”
Their talk subsided. The duaroughs had been gaming earlier with counters of stone upon a painted board. Now, their diversion done, the board lay to one side. The girl played with one of the small round stones. Like a bead it was. If only she had a bore, she could make a hole in it and put it on a string. The quiet rumble of the duaroughs' talk was comforting to her, even as she refused to follow what they said.
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