The Devoured Earth (60 page)

By the crisp afternoon light, the charm looked magnificent, even foreshortened as it was by her position on its surface. From the air, it took her breath away. Two days earlier, Griel had taken her for a ride in one of the three combat blimps that would be permanently stationed at the stronghold. The complex tangle of lines and shapes that she had once despaired of ever grasping stood out in crystal clarity through the thin layer of ice protecting it from the elements. Ink-black moss provided by the foresters’ gardens was ‘planted’ in furrows cut a hand’s-length deep into the ice, where it continued to grow strongly and steadily, despite the ice that formed naturally over the top. In even those most unlikely futures where the Maintainers had somehow failed and let the great work stand untended, the moss would grow to plug any gap that formed. The living, self-repairing charm would only ever completely fail if the lake melted — and recovered Ice Eater records indicated that not once in the previous thousand years had such ever come to pass — so it would, most likely, outlast her by many, many centuries.

Vehofnehu touched her arm. ‘Is everything all right?’

She lowered the spyglass. ‘I think so. But I’d like to send a runner to Sal and Highson, just to make sure.’ Father and son were jointly responsible for the devel watch, for the time being. Even though Sal’s wild talent had dropped back to its usual level, it hadn’t retreated any further yet, and the pair made formidable opponents. Individual devels had learned not to harass the carvers and planters on the ice, but there were still occasional groups, willing to take the risk in order to disrupt their work and bring about a Cataclysm, either way.

‘I’ll organise it immediately.’ The empyricist downed his tools and hopped nimbly across the charm to where a cluster of workers had gathered around one of Shilly’s detailed diagrams.

She watched him go, wondering at how comfortable he seemed on the ice. He had traded a climbing hook for clawed boots much more easily than anyone else she knew. Perhaps it came with extreme age, this incredible ability to adapt. One either changed with the changes or died.

A sudden twinge in her gut made her hiss through her teeth. She leaned forward, placing her left hand over her midriff. This wasn’t the first time she’d felt unwell in recent days, like cramps but without the usual bleeding. Her period was in fact three weeks late, a detail she had noticed with the distant concern of someone who didn’t want it to be a problem, but was afraid to confront it directly just in case it was. She hadn’t been sick, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. There had been a few women in Fundelry blessed with easy pregnancies. Perhaps she would be like them, if her suspicions proved correct.

As she waited for the discomfort to pass, a new wave of disorientation hit her, one that had nothing to do with her gut. The world spun, and the Flame flared up like a landbound star. She eased herself down onto her knees, not wanting to fall and not caring what people thought. Voices called her name in the distance, but she barely heard them.

A strong mixture of grief and yearning flooded her, feelings she had indulged only once since she and Sal had returned from Fundelry. There had been no holding it in then, and time was only slowly making it easier: on seeing Marmion and Kail laid out together she had wept for what felt like days, mourning the family she had never had. She had valued her relationship with both of them; they had come to
feel
like family, even if they weren’t. And Marmion had saved Sal’s life just as Kail had saved Marmion’s. Now they were both gone. There was just her and Sal, and a nebulous possibility that she was too afraid to test, just in case it didn’t turn out to be true.

The feeling became stronger. She closed her eyes, gasping. What
was
this? She hadn’t felt anything so severe during her time with the seers. The visions from her future selves had been clear in their intentions, even if they had confused her at first. This felt unfocussed, forced. The Flame’s interference, if such it was, was making the sender’s job even more difficult than it must already have been.

She wondered which future this message was coming from. Was she trying to warn herself, or offer reassurance, perhaps advice? Was something coming she had to know about immediately? Was a crisis looming just as the charm neared completion? What had they
missed
?

The disorientation increased, and a strange familiarity crept over her. She knew the person at the other end, trying desperately to make the connection. It wasn’t her, though. There were enough differences to make the distinction absolute.

Who are you?

Her mental voice parted the veils between her and the sender, just for a moment. She glimpsed a youthful, vigorous mind with considerable raw talent behind it. A girl.

Mummy? Is that you?

Shilly didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

What’s your mother’s name
? she asked the girl, not wanting to jump to a wrong conclusion.
Where is she now? Why isn’t she keeping an eye on you
?

The girl giggled.
Pukky told me you’d be angry. I told him not to be scared of you. You only really get angry at Daddy when he doesn’t do the dishes. The rest of the time you’re just pretending
.

I’m
—
what
? Tears welled in her eyes, but at the same time she felt powerfully like laughing. A joy as pure as any she had ever experienced rose up inside her.
Okay, I’m not angry at you. Not right now. But you shouldn’t be here. It’s probably dangerous
.

No, it’s not. Pukky showed me how. It’s really not that hard, not for someone smart like me.

I bet you are smart. And I bet I know who this cursed Pukky is
, Shilly wanted to say, but didn’t.

Is Pukje there
? she asked instead.
Could I talk to him
?

No. He flew away when Daddy shouted at him.

Did he tell you to come here?

No. I wanted to. It was my idea.

Really? Are you sure he didn’t suggest it to you first?

Yes, really. Don’t you believe me?

The girl sounded resentful enough to confirm Shilly’s guess.
You have to go now. This is a bad thing you’re doing. Pukky wants to hurt Mummy and Daddy’s work, and he’s using you to do it. I’m not angry at you, but I want you to stop: And I want you to stop listening to Pukky. He’s not your friend. Do you understand
?

Is Daddy there
? the girl asked.

No
, Shilly said firmly.
He’s busy
.

You’re mean. I just wanted to say hello.

Well, I’ll tell him you said hello. I’m sure he’d want to say hello back
. Neither of them said anything for a moment.
Do you really think I’m mean
?

No. I love you, Mummy. Look after me in your tummy, and don’t be afraid. It’ll all be okay. That’s what you tell me, and it makes me feel better.

It does make me feel better. Thank you
, Shilly said, weeping again.
I
love you too
.

Goodbye.

Goodbye, for now.

The girl was gone before Shilly could ask her name. The disorientation passed, and she was suddenly and acutely aware that her knees were cold and damp and that a crowd of people was pressing in all around her.

‘I’m fine. Really, I’m fine. Give me some air.’ She brushed their hands away and clambered without help to her feet. Tom and Vehofnehu remained firmly in her face, and she pushed past them to see the Flame. A small crowd had gathered around it too, alarmed by its sudden activity. The intensity of its light was already fading. Within two breaths it had gone out completely.

The absence of the Flame and the future it tried to keep out ached in her chest like a wound. But there was no pain. Only happiness. Shilly wanted to down tools and run to Sal, to tell him everything. But she restrained herself. Time would reveal all. There was no point rushing things. When she was certain of her condition — certain that the voice out of the future wasn’t a phantom from another world-line, something she would never see realised in hers — she would tell him that much, and let the rest unfold naturally. Let him be as surprised as she had been.

They would have a daughter. She would love her parents as did any ordinary child. She would be rich with the Change even at such a young age, and Pukje would teach her things she shouldn’t know. But her daughter’s childhood friend would do little more than cause minor mischief. Of that she would make absolutely certain.

It’ll all be okay
, the girl had said.

Better than
okay
, Shilly thought. Barring unforeseeable disasters, soon she would, at last, have a family of her own.

‘Perhaps I’ll take a bit of a break,’ she told Vehofnehu. ‘Then I’d like to head back to shore. Can someone call Rosevear and ask him to see me when I arrive?’

‘I’ll make sure it’s done,’ said Vehofnehu. He didn’t ask what was wrong, and he didn’t proffer any reassurances. He simply loped off on his errand, leaving her in Tom’s clumsy hands.

You sly dog
, she thought.
How much do you know
?

But she didn’t call him back. She tipped her head back so the cool, untainted sunlight caressed her tear-stained cheeks, and resolved to wait.

* * * *

EPILOGUE

he tree surprised everyone, a skinny sapling reaching for the sky where the previous day there had been none at all. Once noticed, however, few gave it a second thought. Strange things were second nature to the people patrolling these parts.

The sapling went undisturbed and was allowed to grow tall and strong, immeasurably broadening a hair-thin crack in the stonework into a hole wide enough to pass a trunk wider across than a pair of outstretched arms. Human, Panic and man’kin enjoyed its shade without considering its origins.

Every Senior Maintainer bore a fragment of the Change-robbing Caduceus, as a sign of rank and also so that when they gathered together no one could eavesdrop on their business. They occasionally remarked on the tree’s strange vitality, but no one ever suggested removing it. The green of its leaves added welcome colour to an otherwise bleak vista. Children, what few there were in such a remote outpost, enjoyed playing in its branches. Fallen twigs never ended up in the kitchen fires: some were whittled into elegant shapes; others were cut and varnished and given away as good-luck charms; a handful went into the making of a magnificent wooden chair, designed to seat the Goddess of the Flame, should she ever return.

The elderly Grandscribe himself once came to visit. During the tour of operations he paused under the tree and stroked its rough bark, smiling gently.

‘This old wonder has a story or two, I bet.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘If only it could talk, eh?’

His guides led him to supper, where waited the mother of his children and their eldest granddaughter, the twelfth in his proud line.

When they were gone, the native stretched its broad arms and rejoiced in its beautiful world.

* * * *