The Hush (32 page)

Chester stared into Sam's pale eyes. For the first time, he saw not just anger but pain. Anguish. Chester and Travis weren't the only members of the Nightfall Gang to have put on a false show of strength.

And with a terrible rush he realised what Sam was about to do.

‘No! No, Sam you can't –'

Sam shoved him backwards, so violently that Chester crashed against the floor. He struggled back up and launched forwards to try to snatch a fistful of Sam's shirt. But Sam's headstart had been too much, and Chester's fingers were still inches from –

Sam hit the water.

The splash was a roar. The moment seemed to freeze in front of Chester: the strangled cry, the wild determination in Sam's eyes. Chester had one last glimpse of Sam's face, those ghostly blue eyes, the scars, the stubble, and a final cry from his mouth as the black smoke rose around him, engorged him …

The air gave an almighty yank and hurled Chester backwards again. He heard the clatter of bodies as hundreds of prisoners staggered sideways, tossed violently in the cage. He knew they would be shouting, screaming, but their silent lips held back the sound.

The cage that held them flashed a hot, violent white. Its bars lit up like a broken sorcery lamp and for a moment
Chester saw everything. Then the scene unfolded in staccato jerks as bodies poured between the bars, shoving out into the darkness beyond the cage …

‘Sam!'

Chester forced himself onto his knees, reaching forwards. If he could just grab the boy's disappearing hand, if he could drag him back out onto the Hush-blackened floor …

Flickering light shot down from the top of the cage. It sizzled like lightning, a tongue in the air, and hit the pond with a crash louder than a gunshot. The pond exploded with sorcery and Chester was slammed backwards a third time. He rolled to the side, gasping and cursing and forced himself back up onto shaking knees. He caught a final glimpse of Sam's hand – charred, broken, and unmistakably dead – before it vanished beneath the sheen of the water.

Chester stared at the pond. It was still sloshing, still electrified. He knew it was too late to rescue his friend. Even if he threw himself in after Sam – even if he fought the Music and managed to drag him out – the boy was already dead.

Chester felt a cry rise in his chest and he fought it down. He clenched his fists so hard that his fingernails left bloody marks in his palms.

Later, he told himself. Later, he could fall to pieces. Later, he could deal with the horrors of the cage, with Sam's sacrifice, with the fact that Susannah had betrayed him. For now, he had to hold himself together and do what he could for the rest of his gang.

Susannah was still struggling to process what Nathaniel had just told her. The
Hush
was the real world? But that meant Meloral was …

‘It's a grand piece of Music,' Nathaniel said. ‘The greatest symphony ever performed. Isn't that what music is, after all? Conjuring emotion out of sound. Conjuring stories from the air. Well, why not increase the scale? Why not conjure a whole world out of the air?'

Susannah stared at him. She opened her mouth to argue, to deny it. But her mouth was so dry that it felt like tissue and her lips stuck together in a prickly suction seal. She licked her lips and tried again, but still the words would not come.

‘This place,' Nathaniel said, gesturing at the Hush, ‘was our real world, once. It is so rich in magic, you know. So rich in power, so rich in fuel to increase the strength of our Music. Down in the depths of the earth, there are rich deposits of liquid sorcery just waiting to be harvested.

‘The earliest Musicians learnt to exploit those resources,' Nathaniel said. ‘They were seen as heroes, as
innovators. They learnt to mine for liquid sorcery, to carry it with them, to enhance their own abilities beyond their natural limits.'

Nathaniel's spare hand roamed up towards his throat. His fingers settled on his nautilus shell pendant, which curved upwards like a silver vial. Susannah stared at it, her pulse pounding violently as realisation hit. The pendants weren't just symbols of the Songshapers, they were vials of liquid sorcery, worn around their necks to enhance their powers.

Nathaniel smiled. ‘Unfortunately, as the liquid evaporates with use, we needed more of it. The process of extraction is … difficult. We dug through shafts of toxic sorcery, through rock and shale and veins of Music. We released gases and twisted melodies into the air. The process stained the air dark with fumes and pulled unnatural rain from the skies.

‘My people were no longer seen as heroes. We were villains. We were called polluters and we were shunned. We had power in Music, but no power in society. And we wanted both, my dear. We wanted it all.'

Nathaniel's eyes were alight now, bright with mania. He tightened his grip on the pistol with one hand, while the other clenched greedily at his pendant.

‘We needed people to forget,' he whispered. ‘To live in ignorance.'

‘The real world isn't real?' Susannah whispered.

‘Oh, it's real enough,' Nathaniel said. ‘It exists. It's a physical place. But we created it. We
all
created it. You created it, my dear: you and every other soul in Meloral.'

‘The Sundown Recital,' Dot whispered. It was the first time she'd spoken since Nathaniel had revealed himself. ‘That's what it's for, isn't it? Thousands of souls, humming that tune every night in unison.'

‘Oh yes,' Nathaniel said. ‘Five hundred years ago, the world's Musicians created the largest Musical enchantment in history. They didn't just build a sorcery lamp, or a shield, or an echoship. They built an entire world. They gave themselves a new name: “Songshapers”. They built the largest Musical enchantment in history and most of the musicians don't even know they're part of it.

‘Just think of it, Dorothy. You're a clever girl. You'll see the genius in it. Thousands of souls to replenish this world, feeding back into the enchantment, renewing the sorcery for us. Thousands of souls rebuilding their own prison for us, night after night.'

Susannah felt sick. No wonder withdrawal caused such agony. They weren't just quitting a nightly habit. They were quitting the song that had defined their entire existence.

‘It's the Song,' Dot said, looking stunned. ‘That's what holds the fake world together, isn't it? It's just another piece of Music – like the Music of a sorcery lamp but on an enormous scale.
The heartbeat of the world
…'

‘Of course it is,' Nathaniel said. ‘Why do you think we treat unlicensed Songshapers so harshly? We can't afford to have amateurs interfering with our masterpiece. They could blunder in and play an off-key note into the sorcery. They could cause ripples in our melody, or even expose the truth …'

‘But why not just
tell
everyone the truth?' Susannah said.

‘The Hush is still ripe with resources, my dear,' Nathaniel said. ‘We can't afford for anyone to interfere with its extraction.'

‘The Echoes!' Dot breathed. ‘They're made to protect the secret, to kill any trespassers they find in the Hush. They go into the most dangerous places, the places twisted and ruined by your pollution –'

‘– and tell us where to dig.' Nathaniel was smiling again now, a tight, thin smile that looked more suited to a predator than to someone showing pleasure. ‘Oh yes, very good. They're naturally attracted to Musical energy, you see – not only to the leakage that accumulates near cities, but to the natural Music of the earth itself. When they find a deposit of liquid sorcery, we set off in our echoships to harvest the loot.'

Nathaniel paused. ‘Unfortunately, over the centuries, the number of Echoes has slowly dwindled. Natural attrition, you see.'

‘That's why you've started vanishing people.' Susannah's voice was hoarse. ‘To replenish your supply.'

Nathaniel nodded. ‘By the time I took over the Hush Initiative, almost half our Echoes had dissolved into the dark. It's been a hell of a job replacing them. Unfortunately, the methods our ancestors used to create Echoes have been lost over time. A few … experiments … were required to refine the process.'

Susannah's stomach knotted.
Sam.

‘Eventually we got it right,' Nathaniel said. ‘We selected people carefully to become our new Echoes. People with
resilience, with drive, with courage. People strong enough to endure the transformation and to survive for longer in the Hush. We relied on informants in the towns and cities – people who could identify likely candidates, who could tell us who to vanish next.

‘In fact, that was where you found me, wasn't it? In the shop of one of my ex-informants. Mr Ashworth. A loathsome little man, but he had his uses. In fact, he led us to your friend Chester's father.

‘Of course, once Mr Ashworth's usefulness ended, he had to be disposed of. I couldn't leave loose threads, you see. I couldn't leave clues behind. I've always prided myself on being neat and tidy in my work.'

Nathaniel adjusted his grip on the gun. ‘But Chester's father … Ah, I have high hopes for that man. A great asset, he'll be. The man has a real knack for survival. Just like his son. But he's not as dangerous to us. Not
too
talented, you see. Not enough to pose a threat. Not like Chester.'

Susannah started. ‘Chester?'

‘Oh yes,' Nathaniel said. ‘A very rare boy, that one. It took me a while to realise it, but he was never trained, was he? Just connected to the Song on his own, as though his subconscious latched onto the strongest piece of Music it could sense. A Natural, the historians call them. Hasn't been a Natural born in hundreds of years. No wonder he turned up on my agent's radar.'

He nodded towards the group of Songshapers behind him and one of them stepped forwards. It was a woman in her late thirties who wore her dark hair tied into an intricate knot. With a lurch, Susannah recognised the
Songshaper from Bremen, the one who had chased the
Cavatina
through the darkness of the Hush …

‘She was working for you?'

Nathaniel gave a cold smile. ‘You don't understand yet, my dear? I run the Hush Initiative.
Everyone
is working for me.'

‘Not us,' Susannah said, throat tight. ‘We don't do the recital. We don't work for you.'

‘Oh, but of course you do.' Nathaniel's voice was patronising, as if he was a master speaking to a foolish pet. ‘You're the ones who tested the security for me. You're the ones who helpfully discovered the flaw in my defences. And you're the ones who brought Chester Hays into my grasp.'

‘You –'

Nathaniel's smile broadened. His teeth gleamed, spectral in the Hush-light. ‘I'm afraid that I can't let a boy like that keep breathing. He's a threat to the Song and to the order we've worked so hard to create.'

Susannah was enraged. It was all tied together: the lies and the poverty those lies had created. ‘You mean the system where only rich people can become Songshapers?' Susannah snapped. ‘The system where
you
control who gets power, and you run roughshod over anyone who's not lucky enough to be born with filthy rich parents?'

‘Why, yes,' Nathaniel said. ‘That system exactly. The Hush Initiative is not cheap to run, my dear. We need students who can contribute to our cause – not the sort of riffraff who would dare audition with empty pockets.' His eyes narrowed. ‘But now I come to think of it, where
is
our dear little prodigy? I have a score or two to settle with the boy.'

Susannah stared at him. Didn't he know? Her heart hammered a little faster and she tried to hide the twist of hope that threatened to show on her face. If he didn't know that Chester was here, that he was already inside the cage …

‘I said, where is he?' Nathaniel repeated, and there was a new edge to his voice now. ‘I want him to be part of this little conversation.'

‘I …' Susannah hesitated. ‘I don't know.'

‘Liar.' Nathaniel stepped towards her and raised his gun. It pointed directly at Susannah's face now and she swallowed down a throat full of bile. She stared right down the barrel into that shadowed tube of silver metal and all she could imagine was the roar of a bullet to her face …

‘I don't know! He didn't come to the Conservatorium with us!'

‘You're lying,' Nathaniel said. ‘I know he auditioned. I know your plan. I was part of it, remember?'

His finger hovered over the trigger. Susannah flinched, thinking for a moment that he was about to fire, but she kept her lips sealed. Her heartbeat felt as fast as a rush of fingers on piano keys. There was still hope that Sam might find Chester somehow, might bring him out of this alive …

‘I don't know where he is!' she said, stronger this time.

‘You're lying.' Nathaniel ran his tongue across his teeth. ‘Interesting. You know that I could shoot you dead, but still you're lying. You obviously care for the boy.'

He considered her for a long moment. ‘But how much do you care for him? More than you care for your friends?'

He swung the pistol sideways so that it pointed straight between Dot's eyes.

‘Five seconds,' Nathaniel said. ‘Five seconds to tell me where the boy is or I'll blow dear Dorothy's brains all over the marble.'

No one spoke.

‘Five. Four.'

Susannah tensed. She prepared to leap sideways, to shove Dot aside at the moment of firing …

‘Three.'

Susannah tightened her muscles. She felt as though the world was running in slow motion, and at any minute –

‘Two.'

There was an almighty crash. Lightning smashed across the bars of the cage and Susannah heard screaming. The next thing she knew, the world was a blur of bodies and clawing fingers.

The crowd surged around Chester, wild and frothing in the thrill of the lightning. He was knocked aside as a huge man barrelled past, then someone kicked him. The world spun around him like the curve of a fiddle.

A fiddle!
Where was Goldenleaf?

He found the fiddle lying near the edge of the pond, mercifully untouched by the rush of bodies. Even in their half-crazed state, the Silencers knew to avoid the water;
they poured around it like living molasses, a parted sea of frantic limbs. Chester clutched Goldenleaf to his chest and let the crowd carry him, stumbling and gasping as the silent bodies surged towards the bars.

At the edge of the cage, he was slammed against the bars. He let out a cry of pain as the metal bruised his ribs but, raising the fiddle above his head, he twisted aside and squeezed through a gap in the bars. They were still lit by sorcery, painting brightness into the Hush, and Chester strained his eyes for a sign of his friends.

The crowd had spat him out the wrong side of the cage. He whirled around and looked to both sides but there was no sign of the others. He tried to shove Goldenleaf back into its case, but the bodies surged again and his fingers lost the case and bow in the turmoil. He heard an awful crack and splintering as the case vanished beneath stampeding feet, and he was left clutching a naked violin in the lightning's glow.

He heard a scream in the distance, from the other side of the cage. Chester pressed his fiddle against his body and shielded it with his arms, then charged into the melee. Desperate and confused, he burst around the curve of the cage and through the crowd until finally, he saw them.

Susannah stood in the rain, her face half-lit by the glare of the cage bars. She was grappling with someone in the darkness: a fully grown man, with the glint of a pistol in his upraised hand …