The Dig (36 page)

“Don’t you think?” Pwig said to him.

“Sorry, Pwig, what did you say?”

“Which part?”

“I don’t know. I wasn’t hearing you.”

“I said, the screamers will probably eat the dead ones when they find them. Don’t you think so?”

“I don’t know. If there are more, I suppose it’s possible.”

“What do you think Tillyt and Otillyt are doing right now? Do you think they’re good still?”

“I think so,” replied Irin, distracted.

“You don’t think they are, do you? Do you think their food ran out?”

“What? No… no, they are fine. There is plenty of food. Not even two nights have passed. Don’t be thick.”

“Do you think—” Pwig began.

“No, Pwig, be silent. Let’s just walk, please.”

Pwig muttered to himself and then fell silent.

As Irin walked, he could feel soreness in his legs, and a sharp pain nagged at him from under his arm with each step of his left foot. He had felt something pop inside when the screamer’s head dropped upon him.

Eventually, the sky behind them began to change colors—the early signs of sunrise. They had made little progress toward any better terrain for daylight sleeping. He knew it would be very difficult for everyone to get any sleep with the light of the sun reddening their eyelids from without. He had considered it before they left Pwin-T, not anticipating the good fortune of caves, but hoping they might at least find a forest or some sort of sheltering area. Peering off into the distance ahead, he saw no sign of any cover. He had also contemplated walking during daylight, perhaps shielding their eyes with scraps of clothing.

He watched a crawler scurry in front of him and dart into its cave in the ground. Perhaps they could dig their own crawler holes—they had brought many dirtpulls. He thought about it for a moment and dismissed the idea. Perhaps they would proceed with such a plan when they reached their destination, but it would take far too much time to dig enough holes for everyone now.

He moved aside again and stopped walking, allowing the group to pass him by. He studied their faces as they passed, and again wondered at their strength. The fighters all looked strong and unfazed by the journey. Farther down the line, the men pulling n’wips were a different story. With their k’yot middles hanging behind them, they looked worn out, even on this flat land. The women, too, appeared fatigued and no doubt hungry. He reminded himself that none were accustomed to this much walking. Only the new seemed truly cheerful, chasing crawlers to their holes while their mothers scolded them.

“Those may be only the babies, Gillen,” he heard one mother say to a laughing girl. “The old may be the size of screamers, waiting to leap from a giant hole in the ground and gobble you down!”

Orin approached, and he walked to her. Behind her, Wil, his face dripping with sweat, pulled Owil and the newest.

“Do you have a second to help you, Wil?” Irin asked.

Wil looked up at him with a guilty expression. Irin tilted his head. Wil nodded in Orin’s direction.

“Orin?” Irin said in disbelief. “Are you pulling this n’wip?”

She looked at him, untroubled, “Yes. What of it?”

“What of it!” he replied angrily. “I don’t want you becoming exhausted before everyone else! You mustn’t deplete your legs of their strength.”

Another woman moved close to them as they walked.

“She’s been helping others with their n’wips as well,” the woman confided in a disapproving tone.

“What do you care, Oinilyg?” Orin snapped, and pushed her face so that her jaw made a clopping sound. Oinilyg stalked angrily away, cradling her cheek.

Irin put his arm around Orin affectionately. “I like your strength with her,” he said with a smile.

“She is useless—with no higher purpose than silencing the new and stealing food from the n’wips.”

“Well, it’s good that you stand up, but I want you to stay away from the work of a man, understand?”

“I understand what you are saying, but look at me and then at Wil and the other pullers. Do I appear as weary as them? When you see my shoulders scraped and raw and my eyes drooping, then you can tell me to stop and I’ll be happy to perch atop a n’wip as you would have me do.”

He didn’t like it, but he had to admit, she did not yet appear exhausted. Eventually, though, she would tire, and when she did, he would return and embarrass her by doing exactly as she said: sit her in a n’wip and pull her himself. Until then, perhaps her insolence would work to motivate, whether by shame or by example, any man tempted to complain.

He allowed the travelers to pass him until the rear guard caught up. Now that they were no longer confined to a narrow path, the line had widened.

The sky grew brighter behind them, and Irin decided it was time to stop and ready an encampment. Marching ahead, he found Pwig and Norrit having similar thoughts, and so they stopped and surveyed the area after sending word back to circle the n’wips. Irin also sent scouts out forward and to the sides to see what lay just beyond their sight. People voiced their concerns over how they would sleep under the sun, and he suggested huddling together and using clothes to shield their eyes, as the new did when playing blind-eyes. All complied, though the prospect of being caught in full sun frightened them.

Shortly after the n’wips had been arranged in a loose circular enclosure, long daggers of sunlight shot out from between the distant peaks. People began to groan in pain and also in fear. Many of the smaller new cried and huddled behind their mothers as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

Irin saw one of the men unstrap his k’yot top and turn it around with the face hole in back. He tried it himself and found that, though it hurt against his face wound, it did a good job of shielding his eyes from the light without blinding him completely.

Most of the people had finally succumbed to their exhaustion, while others rolled about uncomfortably, squinting in the dazzling light. Checking on the sixty fighters who stood guard outside the barrier of n’wips, he found several trying vainly to shield their burning eyes with their hands. After showing them how to turn their tops around backward, he returned to find Orin, asleep beside the n’wip that had carried Owil. Beside her, Owil slumbered, the sleeping newest a shrouded lump beneath her blanket.

As he knelt down between Orin and another woman, he saw Wil’s face appear from beneath the same blanket. Wil squinted at the faceless k’yot before him.

“Irin?” His friend’s voice sounded anxious.

“Yes, Wil,” he replied, and turned the k’yot top around just enough to reveal the side of his face.

“No… don’t,” Wil breathed with dread.

Irin turned the k’yot fully around and held his hand before his eyes to block out the unbearable, blinding light.

“What is it?” he asked, troubled by his friend’s behavior.

“Your k’yot… that’s how you wear it…”

At first Irin didn’t understand; then it hit him: Wil’s vision! He must be wearing his k’yot top backward at his death. It made sense—now that he had discovered a good way to filter the sunlight, of course he would be wearing it in this way. Wil had said it would be during daylight. But when? Did he even know? He had said only “soon.”

He turned the heavy protective garment backward again and stood peering round the group and beyond the n’wips. He could see nothing of concern—no approaching creature, no building storm to flood them, no rocks that might fall on them.

Placing his hand on Wil’s shoulder, he said, “Sleep, my friend, and don’t worry—there’s nothing in this moment that we can do.

As Irin’s racing mind slowed, he drifted off to sleep and fell immediately into terrible dreams. A flyer swooped down and snatched him up, only to drop him from a great height. He landed on the ground and felt crushed, as he had when trapped under the screamer. The flyer came again and dropped him over and over again. After a while, he could no longer move any part of his body. The flyer lifted him by one foot and flew him far away from his people. As he hung from the monster’s beak, he felt himself melt into a brown liquid, like thin mud, and drip down to the ground. As his melted face sank into the dirt, he felt that he could no longer breathe. In the darkness, his body tried to come back together, but the soil was too hot, and he began to merge with it, losing himself in it, so that he could not say where his body ended and the dirt began.

He awoke to the cries of Owil’s newest beside him. Seeing the faint blue of a lightstick, he realized that his k’yot top was still backward. He turned it around and saw a black vault of sky, strewn with stars. Relief washed over him—he had lived to see another night! No danger had awoken him; no creature had come to kill him. He inhaled the cool air and closed his eyes, savoring the sensation.

Sitting up, he realized that he was one of the last few people still asleep. How long had the sun been gone? There was certainly no sign of sunset light in the distance. He looked for Orin, but she was not in sight.

He stood up, his side aching, and felt his neck pop and crack as he rolled his head around. Looking about for Orin, he saw a crowd of people around two displaced n’wips. Words and arms were flying; there appeared to be a problem.

Irin stepped over to a crowd of some fifty people, with Orin standing in the center, shouting at Gwilt.

“You think Irin would allow this? This is foolish, and you’re endangering all whom you gather.”

Gwilt, short and thick and missing a front tooth, shoved her away from him. “Do not speak to me as if you’re a man, Orin!” he roared. “You have no special stature just because you’re Irin’s!” He jabbed the heel of his palm into her chest, and she tripped backward, just stopping herself from falling.

Irin held back for a moment and watched. He remembered, long ago, knocking that tooth from Gwilt’s mouth. They were younger, and Pwig was still new. Gwilt was making Pwig and another new eat dirt, telling them that it was what the oldest men had decreed. Seeing Pwig’s lips covered with dirt, and tears dripping down his dirty face, Irin had smashed Gwilt’s face with his fist. Gwilt had spat blood and run off, screaming that he would kill Irin. Now he had just struck Orin.

“Don’t you touch me, coward!” Orin shouted at him. Other men nearby began to grumble, and Irin knew he must put a stop to it, for she was definitely speaking out of line and in front of too many.

“What is the problem?”

The grumbling stopped, and all eyes were on Irin.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Orin stepped back. “Go ahead, Gwilt,” she said calmly. “Tell him.”

Doing his best to remain defiant under Irin’s cold stare, Gwilt said, “We’re going back.”

“Are you really? Back to the city to be killed?”

“No, back to the caves, where it’s safe and where people can sleep in the dark, where they’re supposed to.”

Irin nodded coolly and gazed around at those behind Gwilt.

“And who are the ‘we’ who you think are going with you?”

“Everyone you see here,” he said, gesturing at the downcast faces around him.

“You all wish to return to the screamers’ house?” Irin yelled to them. “To wait for more to come and tear you to pieces? Or do you suppose you can fight them and win because I and two others were so fortunate?”

From the crowd, an anonymous voice bellowed, “There are no more screamers!”

Nodding, Irin took a deep breath and looked squarely at Gwilt. “You wish to bring many people back with you, I see. And these n’wips?”

“Yes, we’ll need food and supplies,” he replied.

“I cannot allow it,” said Irin quietly. “The food belongs to the group. You leave the group, you leave the food and the n’wips.”

Gwilt’s face soured, and he looked about him for support. “I pulled this n’wip half the way here! And these men pulled the other one. They are ours.”

“I cannot allow it,” Irin repeated, looking calmly at the enraged Gwilt.

Someone in the group behind him muttered, “Just forget it, Gwilt,” and Irin watched as the people began to disperse.

“I need no one’s permission to save my family and friends!” said Gwilt, turning toward the n’wip. Anyone who’s coming, let’s go!” And he placed the poles on his shoulders.

Some people hesitated, looking to Irin for a cue, while others, with determined expressions, grabbed their women and new and began to follow Gwilt as he dragged the n’wip away. Others sat back down or busied themselves with other tasks, as if they had nothing to do with the mutiny.

Orin’s face went to Irin’s ear, and she whispered, “Twill.”

She knew! And not only did she know, she was telling him he needed to do something. He looked into her brown eyes and saw the stony resolve behind them, then looked over to see the back of Gwilt’s n’wip sliding away, with perhaps twenty followers joining him. Unfortunately, Irin thought, he wouldn’t be able to dispose of this problem in secret, as he had with Twill.

He overtook the n’wip and stood facing Gwilt.

“What’re you going to do, Irin?” he snarled. You can’t stop us merely by being a nuisance. Move out of the way!”

Irin put his hands on his hips and sighed with disappointment. “I can’t convince you to stay?” he asked.