The Waterless Sea (17 page)

‘Run, run!' Calwyn sprinted across the empty room and out into the maze of corridors. Halasaa hared after her, pulling Shada by the hand. The little girl stumbled, her legs weak from long imprisonment. Halasaa scooped her up onto his back, and ran on, fleet-footed, barely breaking his stride.

Calwyn ran blindly. On an ordinary day, the Palace hummed with activity: there were concerts and parties and assignations, couples met and sighed in the courtyards, music wafted through the winding corridors, there was the sound of laughter and the swish of robes. But now Calwyn and Halasaa ran through deserted corridors and galleries. Calwyn dropped her gloves and kicked off her dainty sandals so she could run barefoot.

Mica spun around as they burst into Heben' s rooms. ‘Where
were
you?We been worried sick!'

‘
Shada!
' Heben gave a choked cry, and gathered the little girl just as Halasaa set her down. Shada flung her thin arms around his neck and clung to him.

‘What' s goin on? I been out, but no one knows what' s happenin, not even in the kitchens, and they know
everythin
. They said the Emperor' s dead, and no one wants the First Prince to be Emperor, and the Army wants the Fifth Prince instead, and the rebels are comin to kill everybody. . .' Mica paused for breath at last.

Calwyn ducked behind a screen and stripped off what remained of her heavy court garments, the stiff bodice and rustling petticoats. No more posing as a courtly lady now. She pulled on her own loose shirt and trousers. It felt so good to stretch her legs and arms, to know that she could run and climb and leap!

‘I don' t know what' s happening, but we can' t wait,' she said, as she laced her boots. ‘We have to find the other children.' She put her hands to her head. Half the pins and combs had tumbled out, all the careful coiffure ruined. She shook her hair free, then with fingers as quick and deft as Halasaa' s, she braided it into her customary heavy plait and threw it over her shoulder.

‘I know where they are!' Shada dropped from Heben' s embrace, though she kept her hand wound firmly in his tunic, and his arm was tight around her thin shoulders. ‘But how long before
he
wakes up? Or. . .' Her voice lowered, heavy with the weight of hope. ‘Did you kill him?'

‘Amagis,' Calwyn explained to Heben and Mica. She pictured the black-clad body, spread-eagled on the floor. ‘He cracked his head, but I don' t think he' s dead.' Her eyes sought confirmation from Halasaa' s.

He shook his head.
No. Not dead.

‘Then we have to hurry!' There was panic in Shada' s voice. ‘He' ll hurt the others! He says, if one of us stops singing, the others –' She began to sob, terrible dry-throated sobs that racked her frail body. ‘We came here together, and we' ll die together, he says. He says, if one of us tries to kill ourselves, or get away, the others will all die! That' s what happened to the five who were here before us. . .'

Heben knelt and tried to soothe her.

‘We' ll find em!' cried Mica, eyes flashing. ‘We' ll get to em afore he can, won' t we, Cal?'

‘Four more,' said Calwyn. ‘Hidden all over the Palace. All hurt, with their feet broken, and worse. . .'

Heben said nothing, but his arms tightened around Shada.

‘Heal them, hide them, take them out of the Palace, all without being discovered.' Calwyn passed a hand over her eyes.
If they can be found, they can be healed. If they can be healed, they can
be taken away.
Halasaa' s warm hand gripped her shoulder.
Have
courage. We have come so far. We cannot abandon them now.

‘No. No, of course not.' Calwyn shook herself.

‘I know where they are,' said Shada again, staring fiercely from one to another, as if daring them to change their minds. ‘Ched is in a tower above the Autumn Quarters, not as high as mine. Haid and Vin are together, down in the dungeons. And Oron' s in the heart of the Palace, the very centre.'

‘And Gada?' asked Heben eagerly. ‘Is he here?'

‘No.' Shada dropped her head. ‘Gada is in the other place, the Black Place. He must have passed the Testing. I didn' t. Girls never pass; that' s what
he
said, Amagis. They don' t want girls there. They took me away. There' s so many, from all over the Empire, all the stolen children.' She peered up through her tangled fringe of hair. ‘Can you help them, too?'

‘Don' t you fear,' said Mica confidently. ‘When we' ve got these kids out, we' ll go and help the others.'

Shada did not smile, but a light came into her huge eyes. ‘The Black Place is in Hathara,' she said.

Heben' s face went still. ‘Hathara is the harshest part of the desert. Those who venture there seldom come out.'

‘That Amagis come out of there, and these kids come out,' cried Mica. ‘We' ll come out, too!'

Calwyn swallowed, and wished that for once Mica could be a little less enthusiastic, a little more pessimistic, like Trout. The task ahead was daunting enough, without piling another on top of it. What was this Black Place, what would they do when,
if
they reached it? A memory flickered, just out of reach: something Darrow had once told her – She felt a stab of longing for Darrow, for his experience, his guidance. She would have given her right hand at that moment just to see his grey eyes meet hers across the room, to feel the warmth of his hand on her own. But they had come here to find the chanter children, and they could not turn back now.

As if he read her thoughts, Halasaa unfolded his long legs and stood.
Come. The four children first. Then the rest.

‘Will you heal them, like you healed me?' Shada gazed solemnly at Halasaa. ‘How did you do that?'

It is a gift of healing, a gift of my people. You can sing. I can dance.

‘We should split up,' said Calwyn. ‘Shada, which way do we go?'

Shada said, ‘I know every corner of this Palace, every room and every passage, every stair and every balcony. I' ve sung them up, day and night.'

Calwyn nodded. ‘I have an idea.' Inspired by the sled she' d made for Shada, she ripped down one of the large wall-hangings and spread it on the floor. ‘Halasaa, come and hold up one end. No, stand on it, in the centre – yes, like a mast on a boat.' She sang a quiet chantment of the winds and the mat bellied out in front of Halasaa. ‘You see? It' s a sail, we can slide down the corridors much quicker than if we went on foot. Mica, you and Halasaa take one and I' ll take another. And once we' ve found the children, they can hold the mat up with chantment.'

Mica grinned at her in admiration. ‘You been spendin too long with Trout! That' s good as any idea he ever had!'

Calwyn flushed. ‘Shada, you wait here for us, with Heben. Save your strength, we may have a long journey ahead.'

But Shada shook her head. ‘No. The room in the centre of the Palace has no windows and no doors. You' re not an ironcrafter. You' ll need me.'

‘I will come with you,' said Heben firmly, his hand on Shada' s shoulder. His steady dark-blue eyes met Calwyn' s for a moment, and suddenly she was very glad that she wouldn' t be alone.

They agreed that Mica and Halasaa should go in search of the two children in the dungeons beneath the Palace, territory that Mica knew well. Calwyn, Heben and Shada would rescue the others. Each group would find a way out of the Palace and return to the camp where they' d left the
hegesi
.

If not for the chaos in the public rooms and corridors, and the general upset of the Court, they never could have done it. Mica and Halasaa sped off down the passageway, Mica whooping with excitement, while Halasaa held up the mat, his long hair streaming behind him. Shada growled out a chantment to hold up the second mat, and Calwyn sang a blast of wind to propel them forward, leaning precariously to the side to steer. Relieved to be out of their confined rooms at last, Heben gave a broad grin as they rushed down the smooth tunnel of the first corridor, swooping and gliding around the bends and turns.

The sailing-sleds were no use on the stairs. But Shada directed them to the passages the servants took when they shifted furniture, where they could wheel the cabinets on their castors along ramps rather than haul them up and down steps.

They shot along the smooth slopes faster than Calwyn had ever slid down any snow-covered hill in Antaris. It was an exhilarating way to travel, from one side of the Palace to the other, up and down between the levels, for Calwyn could propel them up the ramps with chantment just as quickly as they slid down. Room after empty room flew by in a blur of creamy stone.

When Shada tugged at Calwyn' s sleeve and pointed to a wide archway on the right, Calwyn turned the mat and they shot out onto a promenade that twisted along the length of the Palace. The floor was made of thousands of small tiles, each grained differently, so that the surface caught the light of the setting sun and glimmered like mother-of-pearl.

Now Calwyn could truly use the power of her chantment. ‘Hold on!' she cried, and she sang up a wind into their makeshift sail that was as strong as she dared. The mat swelled out before them, and Heben gasped as they zoomed onward. The promenade ran along the side of the Palace, but it didn' t overlook the desert. A high wall enclosed it, covered in flowering vines that flashed by in a blur of green. But the walkway was open to the sky, and Calwyn could see the light fading fast, bleaching the sky to the colour of bone. Soon it would be night. Had Amagis recovered consciousness? Would he find them? Were there other sorcerers, hidden somewhere in the Palace, who would help him, or was he alone?

‘Please, be careful!' cried Heben. They were veering close to the wall, and Calwyn hastily corrected her course. Torn and scraped by the Palace floors, the wall-hanging was beginning to wear thin, and a rip had appeared at one edge.

They were near the Summer Quarters now and, for the first time, there were people about. In the dimming light, Calwyn saw astounded faces in the archways of the promenade. A knot of startled courtiers had to leap out of their way. The sailing-sled moved too fast for anyone to catch them on foot, but they had been noticed. Even on a day of bizarre events, the sight of a wall-hanging laden with people, flying along the promenade like a boat under sail, was a spectacle to set tongues busy.

They swerved off the walkway and back inside. Deeper and deeper toward the centre of the Palace they sailed on their ragged raft. Even with the help of chantment, it would not serve them for much longer. The threads were fraying and falling apart, and no amount of magic would hold them together.

Presently Shada whispered, ‘This is the way to the room where Oron is.'

Calwyn halted the raft. The passage before them twisted abruptly. Shada leapt up. ‘It' s a maze. I' ll show you the way.'

While Heben kept guard outside, Shada led Calwyn through the twists and turns of the maze, confidently doubling back and darting forward; the path was so narrow that the two girls couldn' t walk abreast. At last they reached the centre. The wall that confronted them was blank and featureless, about four paces wide, its surface bulged and pitted.

Shada took a deep breath, and began to sing, unsteadily at first. Gradually her voice grew stronger, and the wall quivered and trembled.

‘Keep singing, Shada!' cried Calwyn. ‘I' ll help you.'

The top corner of the wall started to crumble like a piece of cheese. Calwyn summoned up a breeze to blow the crumbs of stone away. Soon dust blew all around them; they kept their eyes screwed shut against the storm of white grit.

Now Calwyn could hear a third voice: another child, adding his chantment to the struggle, punching out from the inside with all his force. When the wall was breached, Calwyn opened her eyes and saw a small form crouched inside the whirl of white dust and chips of stone. The wall was collapsing fast, the room dissolving before their eyes. Calwyn stepped inside and snatched up the boy. Oron clutched at her neck, just as Shada had done, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light after being sealed in the dark for so long.

Calwyn, Heben, Shada and Oron sailed on, deep into the deserted rooms and cold corridors of the Autumn Quarters, moving more and more slowly. Calwyn urged the frayed raft onward with her spellwind, fearing that every corner they turned might be their last. She nudged Oron, and gestured to the biggest tear in the wall-hanging, but he stared back at her blankly. Calwyn looked to Heben for help.

‘Please, can you mend it?' he asked the boy. Oron shrugged, and reluctantly began to sing, binding the threads tightly together. Calwyn felt his hostility, and she remembered what Halasaa had said, that Shada' s spirit had been more badly hurt than her feet. It must be the same for Oron.

At last they reached a small door at the base of the second tower. Calwyn and Heben left the children huddled on the mat while they climbed the dark stairs. These were wider than those inside Shada' s tower, and Heben was able to climb to the top.

When they came out at the roof of the tower, the sky was ablaze with stars, thicker than Calwyn had ever seen. This was the first time since they' d come to the Palace that she had seen the night sky.

It was only at Heben' s sharp intake of breath that she noticed the dark figure outlined against the shimmering backdrop of the stars. Marked with a vicious gash across the chin, Amagis' s ghastly white face loomed out of the dark. Calwyn heard a muffled cry of pain, and saw that the sorcerer held a boy, smaller than the others. He had one hand clamped hard over the child' s mouth, to stop him crying out or singing. Ched struggled fiercely in the sorcerer' s grip, though every movement must have caused him agony.

Amagis' s lips were moving. Calwyn was jerked violently to one side; the sorcerer' s chantment had seized her shirt and dragged her toward the low railing, to hurl her over the edge.