Part 2 (1/2)

'This is it,' Nepath confirmed. He pressed his hand against the bare rock, and it seemed to Urton that it sank slightly into the surface, as if there was a skim of mud across it. But when Nepath pulled his hand away a few moments later, it had left no imprint.

'I wish Patience could see this,' Nepath breathed. 'After all these years. Searching.'

'Patience?'

Nepath turned. His face was aglow, his lips curled back into a huge smile. 'My sister,' he explained. 'You will meet her soon.'

'Oh?' Urton stepped forward to examine the wall. 'It's just rock,' he said perplexed. 'Or packed earth.'

'She will be staying with us.'

Urton swung round. 'Staying? Now see here, Nepath -' he began, his voice booming round the cavern, echoing back to them.

'Lord Urton,' Nepath cut in loudly, 'I am now, I feel, in a position to offer you a partners.h.i.+p. Join us, Patience and I, in our venture.'

Urton gaped. He looked from Nepath to the bare rock wall and back again. 'Because of this?' he asked. 'Is this what you wanted to show me? What you came here to find?'

Nepath nodded. His face dipped in and out of flickering shadow.

'But why, for G.o.d's sake? What does it mean?'

'Feel it.' Nepath's voice was stern, emphatic.

Despite himself, Urton found he was reaching out towards the blank rock. His fingers touched the smooth surface, and he s.n.a.t.c.hed them away at once. 'It's warm.' He frowned, placing his hand gingerly against the rock. It was indeed warm. Not unpleasantly, but more than he could explain. Urton knew about rock and earth, about his mine. The wall should be damp, cold and clammy. Not warm and... spongy. He pushed, feeling his hand sinking slightly into the surface. He s.n.a.t.c.hed it away and stared at his palm. It had come away clean.

Then he leaned forwards, and peered closely at the surface. It appeared unblemished.

'Feel it,' Nepath repeated, his mouth uncomfortably close to Urton's ear, his breath hot an Urton's cheek.

'No,' Urton said. 'No, I don't think '

But Nepath cut him off. 'Feel it!' he shouted. And his hand slammed into the back of Urton's head.

'Feel it!' The words re*echoed round the chamber, hammering again and again into Urton's senses as his face slammed into to rock wall. He tried to cry out, but his face was smothered, covered, sinking fast and deep into the sweaty rock. The wall seemed to be pulling him into its glutinous surface. Smothering him. It was hot, getting hotter, searing its way through his skin, his flesh. Urton was screaming, but the sound was absorbed into the rock. And he felt it push back, flowing into his mouth as he cried out. Hot in his blistering throat. Scalding.

'Feel it! Feel it flow into you, through you!' Nepath's voice was all there was now.

And the burning.

Chapter Four.

Warm Reception It was their custom on a Sunday evening to sit round the fire. Rosie was in the back room getting the tea. James was reading aloud from the Book of Psalms.

Harry Devlin was proud of his family. But at the moment his pride at hearing his eldest son reading was tempered by the knowledge that in another week he would no longer have a means of providing for them. He remained calm and impa.s.sive. trying not to let his anxiety show. Rosie was terrified at the prospect, he knew. They had talked quietly and emotionally during the evenings and into the nights while the children slept in the next room.

He stilled little Annie's fidgeting with a glance, catching her eye and nodding towards James as he continued to read in a monotone of concentration. He read well. Better than Rosie. As well as Harry did himself. And Lawrence was catching him up. Of his three children, Lawrence would be the brightest. That was why Harry continued to let James read out loud on a Sunday. Wouldn't do for Lawrence to be seen to overtake him, not yet.

It took him a while to realise that James had finished. He sat with the Psalter open on his bare knees, waiting for a cue from his father. The fire crackled and popped in the grate.

'Well done, lad,' Harry told him. 'That was good. Very good.'

'Shall I read another?' There was an edge of worry in the boy's question. He was nearing the end of his concentration.

Annie shuffled uncomfortably on her seat. She was past her limit. Harry got to his feet and tousled James's hair. 'No, lad. That's enough for today.' He winked at Lawrence, and smiled to Annie as she looked at him expectantly. 'You can get down now. Get yourselves cleaned up for tea.'

There was sudden noise as the children raced off, each wanting to get to the pump first. A moment later came the shouts and remonstrations of their mother as they hared round the tiny kitchen and got in the way.

The knock at the door was loud, even above the sound of the children. Insistent.

Harry sighed and crossed the room. The front door opened directly into the living room. Off the living room was the kitchen. That was it. Upstairs were two small bedrooms, one shared by Rosie and Harry and the other where all three children kept themselves warm in a single small bed.

He lifted the catch and swung the door open. He was half expecting to find Pete Manson on the doorstep, grinning in his inane way and offering to buy Harry a pint. It wouldn't surprise Harry if Pete was back from Ambleton within the week. Strange he hadn't heard from him a note had been sent to the pub. Some message. They had worked together for a long time. They were friends.

But the figure on the doorstep was not Pete Manson. The man was too tall, wearing a hooded cloak that was altogether too lavish for Pete to afford in a month of Sundays. His face was shrouded in shadow, and he shuffled past Harry and into the room unbidden.

Only when he was inside did the figure push back the hood. Harry had been on the point of demanding an explanation, of throwing the man back out into the street. But now he just stared. The firelight flickered behind the man's shape, silhouetting him, glowing round him.

'Your Lords.h.i.+p!' Harry said aghast. 'I'm sorry, I wasn't '

Lord Urton gestured for him to be silent. 'No matter, Devlin.' His voice was crisp and precise. It lacked the friendly expansive tones that Harry was used to from the mine.

'What can I do for you, your lords.h.i.+p?' Harry ran a finger round his collar, feeling the sheen of sweat. Suddenly he was feeling hot.

'I want you to work for me,' Urton said. 'At the mine.'

Harry frowned. 'I do do work for you at the mine,' he said. 'For the next few days, any road.' work for you at the mine,' he said. 'For the next few days, any road.'

Urton shook his head, the hint of a smile touching his mouth. His eyes glittered in the firelight.

'Who is it, Harry?' came Rosie's voice from the kitchen, followed immediately by her call to the children to be quiet.

'It's for me,' Harry called back, not taking his eyes off Lord Urton. There was something about him, about his manner...

'We're going to re*open the mine,' Urton said softly. 'You and I. And my partner, Mr Nepath.'

'To dig for... what?' Harry asked, amazed at his own impertinence. Why not just accept it? This was the best news he could have imagined, yet he felt nervous. Apprehensive.

Urton ignored him, or perhaps did not hear. 'We shall need a few men. Just a few to start with. Until the machinery arrives.'

'Machinery?' Harry shook his head.

'The latest mining equipment from London and Birmingham.' Urton turned towards the door. 'We have some serious excavating to do,' he said as he crossed the room. 'Be at the mine tomorrow morning at eight o'clock sharp.' He opened the door, turning back towards Harry as he crossed the threshold. 'There is something you have to see,' he said.

Then he stepped out into the darkness, closing the door behind him.

Harry stared at the door for a while. He was still there when Rosie put her hand gently on his shoulder. 'Tea's ready,' she said.