Nightpeople (16 page)

Dariand's prediction that they'd manage the distance in just one night had been wrong. They'd made slow progress because of the number of times they'd had to avoid patrols.

‘I've never seen this many around,' he'd said after the fourth time.

‘Are they looking for us?'

He shrugged. ‘I suppose.'

‘Slander wanted to give me to them. Maybe he's told them about us.'

‘Slander? Perhaps.' Dariand frowned slightly. ‘Though I wouldn't have thought he'd sell us out so cheaply. Baanti wouldn't allow it.'

Even with the delays, they managed to continue slowly nightwards until, as the third night was drawing to a close, Dariand stopped at the crest of a small hill.

‘There.' He pointed.

Lying in a low valley was a collection of shacks, much the same size as Olympic but without the surrounding fence. In the pre-dawn darkness the town looked lifeless. A gathering of shapes and shadows huddled under the immensity of the nightvault.

‘I'm going to leave you here while I go and wake Wanji, alright?'

‘Can't I come with you?'

The thought that a patrol might come past while she was alone threw shivers down Saria's spine.

‘No,' Dariand answered. ‘Just because the town was safe when I left doesn't mean it still is. You wait here until I come and get you. Even if I'm gone for a while.'

‘What if Nighpeople come?'

‘Here.' He handed her a water-skin. ‘You know what to do. I trust you.'

Even through her nerves Saria flushed at the compliment.

‘Wait under those bushes.' Dariand pointed at a small clump of desert scrub a little way down the slope. ‘I'll be back as soon as I can.'

And then he was gone, loping towards the town. Saria watched, but he quickly melted into the shadows of the nearest huts.

Sighing, she made her way down the slope and settled in the shadows of the bushes.

Soon the light was growing and the town emerged from the gloom. Saria studied it with a sinking feeling. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. Woormra was even more rundown and dilapidated than Olympic. Many of the huts were clearly empty, missing walls or roofs, and large gaps yawned where the buildings had either collapsed or had their parts pirated. Like Olympic, the town seemed thrown down, shacks strewn across the landscape with no sense of reason, separated by alleyways and dirt streets of varying widths.

The morning grew brighter and people began appearing in the streets, going about their daily routines. Saria slipped around to the back of the bushes to avoid being noticed and wondered what was keeping Dariand.

Eventually, exhausted and bored, she scraped a small hollow in the sandy ground and slept for a while.

Dariand woke her in the late afternoon.

‘Shh.' He placed a gentle hand over her mouth. ‘Stay quiet. When it gets darker, I'll sneak you in to town.'

‘Why can't we just go down? I thought Woormra was safe?'

‘Baanti and Slander thought Olympic was safe, too. But I come and go there whenever I want. You never know who's watching and listening. If we have Gan keeping an eye on the Olympic mob, who's to say they don't have someone here?'

‘Did you see Dreamer Wanji?'

‘Yes.'

‘What did he say?'

‘You'll meet him yourself soon.'

The two sat until the nightvault was dark. Then Dariand rose silently, gesturing Saria to do the same.

He led her around the edge of the town before angling into a dark alley between two deserted huts. Like Olympic, Saria was soon disoriented as they wove through the maze in the darkness. At one point they came to a broad open space, just like the one she'd glimpsed between the huts in Olympic, with a low, round structure in the middle of it. Several people stood around it, talking.

Dariand signalled her to stop, and they waited, crouched in the shadows, until the gathering broke up. When the people had gone, they dashed across and into another alley.

Finally, Dariand led her into a hut as rundown as all the others. Unlike the others, though, this one was shuttered and almost as dark inside as it had been down in the pit.

‘What are we doing?'

‘You'll see.'

Dariand pulled a tin sheet over the doorway and the darkness was absolute. Then came a strange creaking noise and as her eyes adapted, Saria made out a dull red circular glow in the floor.

‘Over here.'

Silhouetted against the flickering light, Dariand was nothing more than a large shadow looming out of the darkness. He took her hand and gently led her towards the circle. As they came closer, Saria realised it was another pit, another covered hole, and she tried to pull away. But Dariand kept a firm grip.

‘It's not a cell. It's a tunnel.'

‘A what?'

‘Look for yourself. I'll stand over here.'

He moved away and cautiously, keeping one eye on him, Saria crept forward and peered down. The round chamber dropped to about the same depth as the cell in Olympic, but firelight was spilling into it from a passageway dug into one side.

‘Where does it go?'

‘To Dreamer Wanji. Come, I'll go first.'

Dariand dropped easily into the hole, then held his arms up to lift her down behind him.

Saria hesitated, memories of the pit still fresh in her mind.

‘I don't think I can.'

The hole looked so small, and the tunnel might be nothing more than a narrow trap.

‘Saria, trust me.'

Trust me.

She looked into Dariand's eyes and found nothing in them to suggest he intended her any harm. Wordlessly, she sat, swung her legs into the hole, and let him take her weight and ease her to the floor.

The tunnel disappeared into the earth, curving slightly and dropping at a shallow angle. While she stared along it, Dariand reached up and pulled the hatch cover back into position behind them with a thump.

‘How far does it go?'

‘You'll see. Follow me.'

Dariand had to walk almost doubled over to avoid banging his head on the roof, but Saria could walk upright. The light grew brighter as they curved downwards. They passed a recessed space in the wall, in which a small dung-fire burned, the smoke vanishing up a narrow chimney cut into the top of the alcove.

‘The smoke comes out under an abandoned shack.'

He led her down and down, past more dung-fires. The spiralling curve of the tunnel seemed to grow tighter as they descended, and Saria had no idea how far they had walked when abruptly they stepped out into a far bigger space.

At first she thought it must have been the inside of a large hut, because the light coming from the tunnel behind seemed to dissipate into space. She soon realised, though, that they had merely stepped into another tunnel, one much larger than the first. It was big enough that even Dariand could stand upright.

‘Are you alright?'

She nodded.

‘Good. This way.'

Another fire-hollow flickered some way off, and Saria could see more beyond that. Large areas of darkness between each one gave the tunnel a feeling of vastness, especially after the confining closeness of the entrance passage.

Passing through one of the light patches, Saria looked at the walls. They were rough and angled, as though someone had torn through the rock. The floor was smooth and easy to walk along, though at one point she stumbled and tripped.

‘Careful!' Dariand was beside her, helping her up. ‘Walk close to the walls. It's safer.'

Kneeling, Saria peered at the floor, trying to see what had caught her foot. Embedded in the smooth rock was something cold and hard and pitted and like nothing she'd ever seen.

‘What is it?'

‘We don't know.' Dariand shook his head. ‘It's from the times before. There's two lines of them down the middle, so stay over to the sides.'

‘The times before what?'

‘The Shifting. These tunnels are old.'

He wouldn't say anything more; he just kept walking.

When they'd first stepped into the larger tunnel the air had seemed colder. As they walked though, it grew warmer and more humid and she was soon sweating.

Finally, an opening loomed ahead and beyond it a dark space, clearly enormous.

‘Here we are. Journey's end.' Dariand stopped and crouched before her, straightening her robe and using his hands to brush down her hair as best he could. When he was finally satisfied with her appearance, he leaned back slightly and held her shoulders.

‘You ready?'

‘Where are we?'

‘The Dreamers' Council. This is where the Dreamers meet. From here, you go alone.'

‘Why?'

‘I'm not a Dreamer. I'm not on the council and I'm not allowed into their meetings.'

‘But I'm not…' She began to speak, but Dariand placed a callused finger on her lips.

‘We both know you are. And even if you weren't, you'd still be allowed in.'

‘Why?'

‘Because you're … unique.' He hesitated. ‘Listen, Saria, back at the waterhole. When you reached for me …'

‘I'm sorry, I really didn't know it would …' she began, but he cut her off.

‘I know. You don't have to explain. Gan and I talked for a long time that afternoon. I'm the one who should be apologising. It's just that you should know …' He paused, then grinned. 'I'm talking a bunch of camel dung. You should go into the council. And whatever happens in there, remember, you're not on your own, right?'

‘But …'

‘Go.'

He didn't give her time to say anything more. With a gentle push, he propelled her towards the council chamber.

Stepping into the underground chamber was like stepping into a night empty of vaultlights. The walls stretched into darkness and the roof, high above, remained hidden in shadow. The only indication Saria had that she was deep underground was the stillness – a kind of unnatural lack of sensation, as though even the air was long-settled.

The only source of light was a dull fire in the middle. Saria stopped. The distance between her and the fire seemed huge, the floor dark and indistinguishable. In her imagination, huge pits yawned, bottomless, cloaked and waiting for her unsuspecting step.

As her eyes adapted, she noticed hunched shapes around the fire, perhaps ten or eleven of them. None seemed aware of her presence, and as the echo of Dariand's footsteps faded away up the tunnel behind her, she became aware of the murmur of men's voices, low and unintelligible, distorted by their reflection off the stone walls and roof.

‘Eh, girl.'

The voice came out of the air right beside her, almost in her ear, and Saria jumped, startled. There was nobody there.

‘Don't be worried.'

Now the voice was behind her and she whirled, searching for the speaker, but a strange kind of echo made it move, shifting around her. At the same time, she recognised the voice.

‘Dreamer Gaardi?'

‘Yeah. You come over here, now.'

One of the figures by the fire stood and took a couple of steps towards her, and, even though his face was hidden by the darkness, Saria recognised the shuffling walk of the old Dreamer.

‘It's okay, right? There's nothing to trip you up.'

Saria started out into the darkness and, as she moved away from the tunnel opening, Dreamer Gaardi's voice faded into the detached background mutter of the other conversations.

Halfway to the fire the old man met her. At first he didn't say anything, but reached out and touched the tips of his fingers against her neck. His touch was unnaturally warm and she instinctively pulled away.

‘Shhh, girl. I won't hurt you.'

It took every bit of control she had not to turn and flee back up the tunnel behind Dariand. She willed herself to stand still while Dreamer Gaardi's warm fingertips settled against her. For the tiniest of moments she had a sensation of warmth through her whole body. Then, with a stab of brightness, the old man's mind touched hers; it was the same sensation as when she had reached into Dariand, the same intense flash, but this time it was controlled and gentle. With it came a flooding of strength and shared power.

After a brief moment Dreamer Gaardi withdrew his touch and smiled. He whispered to her, softly enough that the other men by the fire wouldn't hear, even with the strange acoustics of the chamber.

‘You come now, and remember what I told you back in the desert, eh? Don't tell anyone about you being able to do reaching, right?'

They came closer to the fire and Saria counted thirteen people, all men, seated on low boulders arranged in a ring around the fire-pit. There were unoccupied boulders in the circle, too, perhaps twenty in all. Burning dung scented the air and as they stepped into the firelight all conversation stopped.

The shadowy figures studied her in solemn silence. Her heart pounding, Saria was barely aware of Dreamer Gaardi returning to his stone seat. Finally, one of the other men stood and stepped forward.