Nightpeople (18 page)

‘All that movin' opened up new places in her belly, and those holes the Skypeople had filled with burning stone moved too. The dead rock flowed out right through the Earthmother and she screamed like never before, and all the Dreamers, even the ones who weren't listenin' any more, they screamed too.

‘After the Shifting, the Earthmother started dying, right? All that dead rock, hot and flowing around in her belly, started killin' her. The Dreamers an' Skypeople who walked on her started dying too. All across this country people were dying because the Earthmother didn't have enough life to give out anymore. A lot of people left, tried to get away, but the Skypeople built the Darkedge and stopped anyone goin' out.

‘That was a long time ago. Since then, only Nightpeople ever come into the Darklands. For a long time they watched as the land died, and they watched the people dying too. Most children born in the Darklands were wrong, some born with no arms or legs, some with no eyes. The Earthmother didn't have enough life to finish making babies properly, so women in the Darklands stopped having children, ‘cause they were too afraid. Then a lot of them found they couldn't have children even if they wanted too.

‘And not many people could hear the Earthmother anymore, either. Only a few still knew how to listen and could feel the earthwarmth. These Dreamers could still find wood an' water an' stuff, but if they reached too deep they'd feel the burning deep in the Earthmother, and they'd burn up themselves, till there was nothin' left but an empty shell.

‘And the Skypeople who were left in the Darklands were cut off from the skyfire and forgot their ways, too, so Dreamers and Skypeople lived together, and Darklanders were born.

‘For a long time the Nightpeople just came and watched, never touching the earth, only watching from their hummers. But then they started to land whenever a woman had a child. If the child was clean, they'd take both woman and the child beyond the Darkedge. Sometimes, even if the child was broken they'd still take the mother.

‘And you, girl, are the last child of the Darklands. When you were born, a lot of us hoped you wouldn't be the end but the beginning.'

The old man's voice echoed around the chamber.

‘The beginning of what?'

The story made no sense. It sounded like a whole lot of Ma Lee's wild tales of night spirits, all put together. Dreamer Wanji's hands, still clasping her own, were trembling.

‘The Earthmother is getting stronger, girl. Just a little. The burning still hurts her, but she's stronger. I noticed it when your mother was born, and when she had you and you were clean, it had to be a sign that the Earthmother was healing, giving out more life. Some people thought you'd be the first of many more.'

‘But I wasn't.'

‘Nah.' The old man shook his head. ‘Nah, you weren't. Haven't been any since, and now all the women are too old. But you've got the most powerful reaching I've ever come across, and you're the first woman to ever have it. I reckon that's an even more important sign.'

‘Why?'

‘Because nothin' in the Darklands happens by accident.'

Saria sat holding the old man's hands for a long time, until finally he tried to rise again. She had to assist him back to his feet.

‘What was the fight with Baanti about, then?'

‘Ah.' He hesitated. ‘Baanti. He was one of the last Dreamers born, a long time before your mother and even a long time before Dariand. Still, you'd be the first Dreamer since him, right?'

‘Yeah.' Saria nodded.

‘But his power's not like yours, girl. Not strong. His sense of the Earthmother is cloudy. He doesn't feel her pain properly. Not like you. He doesn't understand that reaching's more than just borrowing animals for hunting or finding water. Baanti thinks everyone feels it the same way as him. He thinks it's weak for all Dreamers, and he reckons that's because the Earthmother's nearly dead.'

Dreamer Wanji took a few steps closer to the fire and held his palms out, warming himself in the sparse heat.

‘And he's not alone, eh? There haven't been any strong Dreamers for a long time, so most folk left in the Darklands, especially those over at Olympic, reckon he's right. To Baanti and those who think like him, you ent a sign of anything, just lucky chance you got born, and nothin' more.'

‘What if he's right?'

Dreamer Wanji spun round and poked a bony finger into her chest, surprisingly hard. ‘Don't you ever think that, girl, you understand?'

‘But he might be.'

‘Psht.' Dreamer Wanji spat. ‘It'd be the first thing he ever got right, then. You listen to me. Baanti's reaching is weak and only good for messing with weak people. His father's father was Skypeople, an' he's always been only one step away himself. Okay?'

‘Why did he take me to Olympic and throw me into that pit? Why didn't he try and use me himself.'

‘Because the silly bastard couldn't feel you. Didn't have the landsense to know you for who you are. He just thought that if he had you he'd be able to take over the council. He would've too. These old buggers'd do whatever he told them if they thought he had the last child. He'd get rid of me, first of all. Then he'd hand you right over to the Nightpeople.'

‘Why?'

‘Because they want you. They've been chasing you from the moment you were born. Dariand and me, we did our best to fool them, and mostly we succeeded, but there was one of them, a woman, I reckon, though it's hard to tell with Nightpeople, who kept lookin'. Right up until a few seasons ago.'

‘She didn't find me.'

‘Dariand and me still know a few tricks between us. It wasn't difficult to keep her lookin' in all the wrong places.'

‘Do you know why she was so keen to find me?'

‘You heard the story; you're the last Darklander. If they get you, it's the end. They'd get our last child, and in return they'd make Dreamer Baanti and Slander and that mob comfortable for the rest of their sorry days. That's all you are to Dreamer Baanti, girl, alive or dead. He never gave a bugger about anyone else, the Dreamers or the Earthmother, because he couldn't feel any of it properly.'

Dreamer Wanji fell silent and Saria walked out into the darkness until one of the chamber walls loomed before her. Slowly she leaned her forehead against the flat, grey surface. It felt cold, lifeless. She closed her eyes and stood for a few moments, until she felt the old man's hand lightly on her shoulder.

‘Come on, girl. Let's get back up top and get some food into you.'

All the way up the tunnel the cold touch of the rock lingered on her skin.

Night had long since passed into day, and with the return to the surface came the return of Saria's appetite.

When they emerged into the hut that guarded the entrance to the tunnel, Dreamer Wanji crossed straight to the door and heaved the shutter aside, resting it against the wall before stepping out into bright sunlight.

‘You coming?'

‘What if somebody sees me?'

‘Ah.' He shook his head. ‘That don't matter.'

‘Dariand told me there might be people from Olympic here.'

‘Even so, don't make any difference. After what happened down there last night …' His voice trailed off.

‘What?'

‘Don't worry about it. Just trust me that nobody's gonna bother us.'

Why not? Saria wondered. After all the secrecy involved in getting her into town, what could have changed?

‘Come on.'

She walked beside Dreamer Wanji as he guided her through the dusty alleys.

Woormra in daylight was uninspiring. Like Olympic, everything was coated with a layer of fine red dust, and the fierce sun baked it so the entire place had an earthy, cooked smell.

Winding through narrow alleyways, they came to the large cleared area in the centre of the town. A group of old women stood gossiping around a low stone structure in the middle of it. Three men, also old, sat in the shade of a hut on the far side and a couple of skinny, dirty dogs chased one another in circles, snapping at each other's heels. Saria thought one of them might have been Baanti's animal, but as the two skittered by close to her, she realised her mistake.

‘What are those women doing?'

The women had buckets and a strange array of pots and jugs.

‘Gettin' water. That's the well.'

‘Well?'

‘A real deep hole. Right down into the Earthmother. She fills the bottom with water, and that's how we live. They got one over at Olympic, too, although theirs isn't as reliable as this one. Filthy water, too. This one here's the best well in the Darklands.'

‘Where does the water come from?'

Wanji gave her a strange look.

‘I jus' told you. The Earthmother.' He led her towards a hut opposite, on a course that would take them past the group. They'd walked only a few steps when one of the women nudged her neighbour and they all fell silent, watching. Saria itched under their narrowed gazes.

‘Why are they staring?'

‘Don't worry, they're harmless.'

One of the women broke from the group and rushed towards them. She was gaunt and thin, her clothes so tattered they looked as if they might drop off her at any moment. As she approached, Saria drew closer to Dreamer Wanji.

‘That's her! That's her!' The old woman pointed a gnarled finger and shouted. ‘They told me and I said to meself, "Psht, that girl was dead as she came outa her mum, she was," and I remember ‘cause I was there when Dreamer Wanji burned you, and I remember all that, right? But they all reckoned you were here, and …'

She reached and stroked dry, grubby fingers through Saria's hair and down her face, touching her eyes and lips, probing and feeling as if to make certain that Saria was real.

‘It is you, isn' it? You're Jani's kid? Eh?'

Dreamer Wanji took the old woman gently by her shoulders.

‘Darri, quiet now.'

‘Hah!' The other women had walked over now and a tall one in the back laughed. ‘After what she did to that old bastard Dreamer Baanti, she got no call to be scared of Darri here.'

The women chuckled, but the sound wasn't friendly. It was dry, the laugh of people finding mirth in something grim.

‘Quiet now,' snapped Dreamer Wanji. ‘All of you shut it, right?' The women fell silent immediately. ‘She had a long night and I wanna get some food into her and get her off to sleep, so you all let her be for the moment.'

‘I bet that's not all he wants to get into her!' the skinny one muttered, and they started chuckling again.

‘Come on.' Dreamer Wanji took Saria's arm and led her forward, and the women parted to let them through.

‘What happened to Dreamer Baanti?'

‘Eh?'

‘That woman said I'd done something to Dreamer Baanti.'

‘Just follow me now and we'll talk about that later.'

‘I want to know.'

‘You just gave him a nasty shock, eh? He wasn't expecting you to fight him back. Now let's get you somthing to eat.'

On the other side of the common, they entered a hut no different from any of the others.

‘Dariand!' Wanji called from the door. When there was no answer, he led her in. ‘Must be hunting.'

The remains of a fire burned in a fire circle and beside it some bits of freshly cooked meat rested on a flat piece of tin, a few flies buzzing at them.

‘Left us some tucker, though. Here.' Dreamer Wanji shooed away the flies and offered the platter to Saria.

The meat was still warm, a small pool of thin juices around it, glazing it with a fatty coat, and Saria bit into it. Juices ran down the back of her throat. As she swallowed, she could feel the weight of it slide down inside her. She took another small piece and ate that too, and then another.

Dreamer Wanji also started to eat, and soon both of them were full. Only some bones and scraps remained on the tin platter.

‘You found the food, then.' Dariand was standing in the doorway. As usual, he had approached without a sound.

‘Yeah. Good tucker. Thanks.' Dreamer Wanji twisted to look at him. ‘Where you been?'

Dariand threw a quick glance at Saria.

‘Out.'

Some wordless communication passed between the two men, and Dreamer Wanji nodded.

‘Fair enough. You happy for the girl to bunk down with you in here?'

A look of alarm crossed Dariand's face.

‘Shouldn't she stay with you or one of the women?'

‘No. I'm an old bloke, without the energy to look after a young pup like her. And I'd rather she didn't listen to all the rubbish and stories those old hags by the well make up.'

‘You told me to bring her here to Woormra,' Dariand interrupted. ‘You never said I'd be keeping her.'

‘It's just for a while. Until I can get her trained.'

‘Trained?'

‘Teach her how to use her reaching properly. Show her how to control it.'

‘Are you sure that's wise?' Now Dariand looked even more alarmed. ‘After …'

‘Not just wise, necessary.' Dreamer Wanji didn't give him a chance to finish. ‘She's got more power than anyone else on the council. More than anyone I've ever met. You've seen what she can do already and she's still young.'

‘But she's got no control …'

‘She can learn it. Would you rather I left her the way she is now?'

Dariand didn't answer.

‘If anyone's gonna be able to find a way out of the Darklands and start building a new people, it'll be her. So I'm gonna give her every bit of teaching I've got to help her do it.'

Saria was sick of them discussing her as though she wasn't there.

‘Build a new people? What do you mean by that?' she demanded. Both men turned to her, clearly startled.

‘Don't worry about it …' Dariand began, but Dreamer Wanji cut him off.

‘Time's up for us Darklanders, Saria. We've run our race, eh? But the only hope we've always had is that one day someone will get outside and start over. Make a new, strong bunch of Dreamers who'd be able to help the Earthmother heal. That's you. That's why I told you all that stuff down in the chamber. You're gonna have to know everything about our history, so that you can start puttin' together our future.'

‘How do you expect her to get out? You've seen the Darkedge. The only way she'll ever get over that is if Slander and his bunch win out and hand her over to the Nightpeople. And what good'll that do us, eh? Even if by some miracle she can find a way out of the Darklands, what's there gonna be on the other side for her? Nothing. Not other Dreamers, that's for sure.'

Dreamer Wanji shook his head in disagreement.

‘Dariand, mate. You've always been the one with faith. Don't let it go now, eh? Give us a chance. We Darklanders started when the Dreamers and the Skypeople mixed ourselves together. Now we've got a chance to do it again.'

No reply was forthcoming and the old man stepped outside into the heat of the early afternoon.

‘Let her rest up today and tonight,' he said over his shoulder. ‘Tomorrow we'll start teachin' her some proper reaching.'

Dreamer Wanji left and Dariand, sighing, turned back to Saria.

‘We'd better get you somewhere to sleep.'

Saria looked about. The inside of the hut was stark, bare, without any of the touches that she'd become used to living with Ma Lee. Dariand's own sleeping mat lay on the ground beside the fire circle, and there were a couple of rough tin cooking implements beside it, but otherwise, that was it. As she made her survey, she became aware that Dariand was watching her closely. Something in the way he regarded her sent an uncomfortable itch up her back.

‘If you don't want me to stay here …' she began, but he didn't let her finish.

‘No. If Dreamer Wanji says you stay with me, then that's what you do.'

‘Do you always do everything Dreamer Wanji tells you?'

She hadn't meant the question to sound rude, but that stony expression of anger crossed Dariand's face.

‘Most of the time,' he snapped, before stalking outside.

He was back a few moments later with an armful of bedding.

‘Here.' He unrolled a sleeping mat similar to his own and placed it beside the fire, piled a couple of old blankets on it, then set about gathering his own sleeping gear together.

‘What are you doing?'

‘Moving this stuff.' He lugged his gear over to a spot by the far wall, on the opposite side of the fire and as far as possible from the sleeping place he'd just set up for her.

‘Why?'

‘To give you room,' he grunted.

‘You'll get cold if you sleep that far from the fire,' Saria protested.

‘I'll be fine.'

‘But …'

His look was enough to silence her.

‘Now,' he said when he'd finished setting up his bedding, ‘I'm going out again. You stay here and rest, and I'll be in later.'

‘Where are you going?'

‘I have things to do.'

Saria wondered what ‘things' could possibly need doing in a place as tired as Woormra.

‘Can't I come?'

‘No. You heard what Dreamer Wanji said. It's sesta time, anyway, so get some sleep.'

He didn't give her an opportunity to argue further, and left abruptly.

Saria sat on her mat for a while. She even went so far as to lie down and close her eyes, but sleep resolutely refused to come. Finally she sat up with a sigh.

Woormra was a disappointment, she had to admit. After all the walking and wondering, she couldn't believe that all she'd come to was an empty hut in a dirty town full of old people. Dreamer Wanji talked in riddles she couldn't understand, and Dariand was surly and made her feel more useless than ever.

Start a new people.
It would be nice to think that she was going to somehow save the Darklands, but Saria knew there was no point fooling herself. Even Dariand didn't believe the old man any longer, and something had changed in his manner towards her, too, leaving Saria with the uncomfortable impression she'd done something to offend him. When Dariand had delivered her to the entrance to the council chamber the night before, he'd been … different. The way he'd spoken to her, and the soft press of his finger against her lips – there was no hint of any of that in the way he'd just spoken about her with Dreamer Wanji.

Soft footsteps padded around the back of the hut and something scraped against the tin wall. She wondered if it was Dariand returning, but a couple of moments passed and there was no sign of him.

From the other side of the wall, a dull thud echoed softly as whoever was out there flopped to the ground.

‘Dariand?' Saria called.

No answer.

Silently, Saria rose and crossed to the door, slipping out into the heat of the afternoon. Woormra was quiet as she walked around the corner of the hut and into one of the alleyways that opened onto the central common. Keeping the wall of Dariand's hut on her left, she followed it around to where the noise had come from.

At first she didn't see it. Crouched in the shadow of the hut, its reddish-yellow coat was almost the same colour as the dirt on which it lay.

‘Dog?'

The animal looked up at her, and gave its tail a single, exhausted twitch.

She could tell it was in a bad way. Its eyes were shot through with red and its tongue lolled from the side of its mouth. Even lying still, the animal's breathing was fast and shallow.

Without hesitation, Saria crouched and reached for its mind. Earthwarmth flowed into her easily and as she touched the dog she knew right away its exhaustion and thirst. Something else she knew: it wasn't here because of Dreamer Baanti. It was here because of her.