Nightpeople (25 page)

Back in the small cavern, Saria waited long enough for Dariand to get well ahead, steeling herself for the task ahead.

There was no way she was about to let a group of old men decide her future for her No way at all. If Dariand wanted to argue on her behalf, that was fine, but she was determined to hear for herself what happened down there. Even if it meant finding her own way to the council chamber. Alone. In the dark.

She cast a quick glance around the small chamber, toying with the idea of making a torch. There wasn't much material, though, and in any case she'd have to extinguish it well before she emerged into the main chamber. It would be no use at all for getting back again.

No. She'd do it on her own.

Closing her eyes, Saria took a couple of deep breaths and let her mental picture of the tunnels fall into place. It shouldn't be hard. The climb down the fork wasn't at all difficult, and the fissure leading from there to the cavern had seemed fairly straight.

Kneeling, she threw several handfuls of dried dung onto the fire, blowing on it until it flared up. Dariand wouldn't have been happy with the amount of fuel she was using, but it would give her a lot more light on the way down. And besides, she wasn't planning on coming back here.

At least, not if things went well.

When she was certain Dariand would be well and truly down in the chamber, Saria crawled out into the passage, then returned and retrieved a half-full water-skin, slinging it across her back.

As she'd suspected, the climb down the rough fissure to the council chamber was simple. The stoked-up fire threw out enough dull light to illuminate the floor during the first part of the walk, until she rounded a shallow bend and was cut off from the direct glow. As the remaining light grew more and more diffused, Saria closed her eyes and trailed a hand along one wall, just as she had in the breathing tunnel, guiding herself downwards. A hanging outcrop caught her a glancing blow on the side of her head and she cursed softly, then continued more slowly.

Finally her ears picked up the murmur of voices somewhere below. At almost the same moment the warm rock under her fingers faded to cold muteness, and, opening her eyes, Saria found herself standing just inside the narrow opening of the fissure, the expansive darkness of the main chamber right in front of her. Cautiously, she poked her head through the gap.

Over towards the main entrance, lit by the flickering fire-pit, the council sat on their stones, a new gap in the circle where Baanti had held his position. Other people stood behind the outermost stones. She immediately recognised Dariand by his confident stance, and a little away from him the bulky form of Slander. None of the men looked in her direction; all stared into the centre of the circle and the fire.

Confident that both the darkness and the men's concentration would conceal her, Saria flattened herself to the floor and crept slowly forward until she could clearly hear the discussion taking place. Dreamer Wanji was standing by the fire in the centre of the circle, and his voice trembled with barely concealed anger.

‘The girl's a Dreamer so she'll make her own decisions. Now you shut up, Slander You'll get your chance to speak at the proper time, but any of you open your mouths again and you won't be welcome in council any longer, understand?'

Slander, who'd positioned himself slightly forward of the rest of his group, now stepped back a little into the shadows. His dark eyes flashed in the firelight.

‘Listen up!' Dreamer Wanji's face, lit from below, was old and drawn. He turned slowly, taking in every one of the men surrounding him. ‘You lot all know why we're here. Strange things've been happening since Saria came down from the valley and a lot of bad feelings have been thrown around. It's all got to stop, you hear? We start fightin' among ourselves and we got no chance at all. There's never been war in the Darklands, not ever, even after the Shifting. The only way we've all managed is ‘cause we keep together, and that's not going to change. Right?'

Murmurs of agreement echoed around the chamber

‘Good. We all agree. Whatever the council decides to do about the girl, then that's it. No more arguing an' no more storming into one another's towns looking for a fight.' The old man glared at Slander, whose only response was to glower back.

‘Now, it seems to me that several people reckon they got a claim over the girl, and we'll hear from them first. Then you lot can bugger off and the council will make a decision, understand?'

Those standing outside the stone circle nodded.

‘And I wanna make it real clear here; you can argue your case alright, but any silly business and you're outa the chamber. This is a Darklands decision, and it gets made by the council, not by any of you. You agree?'

There was more nodding, but Dreamer Wanji shook his head, dissatisfied.

‘I wanna hear each of you say it. If you don't agree, you can leave now, eh?'

‘I agree.' Dariand was the first to speak. His voice echoed around the chamber, and Dreamer Wanji nodded.

‘Good, then. How about you?' He looked at Slander.

The silence grew thicker, until finally the large man nodded.

‘I agree.'

One by one, those outside the council circle gave their consent. Then Dreamer Wanji sat.

‘Right. Slander, you first.'

Slander walked between the stone seats and stood in the light. The yellow flickering seemed to wash some of the colour out of his body, lending him the look of a ghost or night spirit.

‘You all know that after what happened to Dreamer Daali, we made laws about this, about what'll happen when a Dreamer burns someone out. And that law's clear. When a Dreamer burns out someone, they take on that person's debts. That's the penalty for doing what she did to Baanti, and it doesn't matter if the Dreamer is a bloke or a girl, young or old. That's the law as this very council made it.'

He paused for a moment, then pointed at Dreamer Baanti's vacant stone.

‘Well, that's all we're asking for now. What the law owes us. She burnt out Baanti, and so she takes on his burdens. His obligations to Olympic. That's our claim over her, and you all know it's strong. If she's Dreamer enough to burn out Dreamer Baanti, then she's Dreamer enough to keep Olympic alive a little longer That's our right.'

This final proclamation echoed around the chamber for a long time, then Dreamer Gaardi spoke.

‘What you gonna do with her?'

‘That's not the concern of the council. You only need to worry about keepin' the law.'

‘You gonna trade her to the Nightpeople?'

‘If we do, it's not your worry.'

‘Crap! Even if she goes across to Olympic with you lot, she's still the last Dreamer. She belongs to all the Darklanders.'

‘She's taken on Baanti's place, even his bloody dog worked that out.' Slander caught the brief expression of surprise that flashed across Dreamer Wanji's face. ‘Oh, yeah, we know all about that. You ever hear of a Dreamer's dog willingly following another?'

‘That means nothin',' Dreamer Wanji interjected. ‘The way Dreamer Baanti used to treat that animal, it's a wonder it didn't take off a lot earlier.'

‘That's not how dogs are and you know it. That girl took Baanti's dog, she took his power, and in the end she took his life. She left Olympic with no Dreamer. That gives us a claim over her, which is all the council needs to concern itself with.'

With that, Slander turned his back on Dreamer Wanji and the other Dreamers and marched back into the shadows outside the circle. Saria was alarmed to notice that a couple of the Dreamers had spent most of his argument nodding their agreement. Dreamer Wanji kept his face expressionless.

‘Let's keep this moving along. Dariand?'

The nightwalker stepped into the middle. He didn't stalk around the fire like Slander had, but stood still in the light, facing Wanji but speaking to everyone.

‘You all know my claim over this girl, and you all know it's the only one that counts, so I won't waste your time re-telling old stories and spinning a lot of rubbish.'

And with that, he stepped back out of the light, and Saria's heart sank. She thought Dariand would argue for her to stay in Woormra, but instead there'd been nothing, no argument at all. Across the circle, Slander was grinning.

‘Fair enough.' Dreamer Wanji stood again. ‘You lot should all clear out now, and we'll make our decision. It'll take a while, so don't hang around. Go back up top and one of us'll come and get you when we're ready.'

‘What about the girl?' Slander demanded. ‘We still don't know where she is. I reckon now's the time to hand her over. Then if the council doesn't agree with our claim, we can return her.'

‘It's not gonna happen that way, Slander.' Dariand's reply was quiet but deadly serious.

Too late to stick up for me now,
Saria thought.

‘Quiet, both of you,' Dreamer Wanji snapped. ‘Slander, you got the council's word that if the decision goes your way, we'll hand her over to you safe and sound. The council's word has always been good enough for others, so you'll just have to accept it too.'

‘You'd better not be messing with me, Wanji, or this town of yours'll be …'

‘Enough! Out, all of you.'

Still muttering, the delegation from Olympic slouched towards the entrance tunnel, a couple of them holding torches to light the way. Dariand let them get well clear before following. Around the fire, the circle of old men sat still and silent until the last sounds from the departing men had faded completely. Then, sighing, Dreamer Wanji sat back on his stone seat.

‘So, whadda we do about this, eh?'

‘Law is law, Dreamer Wanji. You said it yourself.'

‘True, but the laws are about what's best for the Darklands, not just for Slander and those who live at Olympic.'

‘No difference, as far as I'm concerned.' One old man stood slowly as he addressed the council. ‘The Darklands are all but dead now and it's gotta be time that we started accepting the fact. Pretty soon we're gonna need all the strong towns and people we can muster, and no matter what you think of Slander and that Olympic mob, they know how to survive. Hell, if they've managed to get by with Baanti as their Dreamer, they'll do fine with the girl.'

A murmur of agreement ran around the circle. Only Dreamers Wanji and Gaardi shook their heads. Still concealed in darkness, a shiver ran through Saria. She had to do something. She couldn't just let this group of old men send her back to Olympic. Why hadn't Dariand argued more? He'd told her he'd look out for her interests, and she shouldn't worry.

But she'd watched his attempt at ‘looking out for her' and now was more worried than ever

Dreamer Gaardi was on his feet.

‘You send that little girl over to Olympic, you might as well just chuck her down one of the pits here. Slander'll trade her off to the Nightpeople first chance he gets.'

‘We don't know that. And if he does, it's his right.'

‘Crap. She's the last of us. And look at how that mob treated her the first time they had her in their hands.'

‘That was different. That was before they knew she could do reaching.'

‘What? You think it'll be any better for her now? You all know she's refusing to do reaching any more. How do you reckon that'll go down with Slander? Think he won't try and force her into it? You happy to live with that decision, Kenjii?

‘What difference is there between them handing her over to the Nightpeople, and you letting her go haring off into the desert chasing some imaginary “call”?' Kenjii retorted. ‘You reckon the Nightpeople aren't gonna find her there? At least if we send her off to Olympic, then the Darklands might get some benefit from it.'

A long silence fell over the group. Saria craned her neck, trying to see their faces, but most were hidden in shadows. The only person she could make out with any degree of clarity was Dreamer Wanji, who kept his expression as blank as possible.

‘There's no benefit in it for us if she isn't comfortable with what she can do, fellas,' Dreamer Wanji replied. ‘We all know that. You can't reach properly unless you can do it like breathing. But after everything that's happened to her in the last couple of weeks, Saria reckons that every time she touches the Earthmother, or lets the Earthmother touch her, she ends up hurting something. So it's no wonder she sees things the way she does. How many of us have ever burned someone out?'

Around the circle, the other men's gazes met Dreamer Wanji's evenly.

‘You know the answer to that, Dreamer Wanji.' Saria couldn't identify the speaker.

‘I do. And so do you. None of us. Ent any of you, or me either, for that matter, can understand what it's like to burn the spirit out of someone. None of us know how that feels, because only two Dreamers have ever done it. The first of them was Dreamer Baanti, and we saw what effect that first burning had on him. He ended up being a bloody useless Dreamer, more of a danger to himself and others, and that's why now he's buried outside this town. And we all know why he ended up that way – because we never let him understand his power. After what he did to old Dalii, we were all too scared to really let him get under the skin of it and touch the Earthmother properly. So he never did. The only other one who's ever burned someone out is Saria, and now she's headed exactly the same way as Dreamer Baanti. Is that what we want, eh?'