The Burning Shadow (7 page)

At last the sky turned gray and they reached a trio of silent pools at the foot of a stark red hill. Pirra heard the din of hammers. She saw crows circling another rocky hill on a headland, from which a squat, uncouth stronghold glared down.

The warriors halted near the pools and sat on boulders, unslinging their food pouches and easing their shoulders. Pirra watched hungrily as they drew out leather wine flasks and mouthwatering slabs of dried tuna.

A gang of boys was filling waterskins. They were painfully thin and covered in red dust, with the cropped hair of slaves. Pirra guessed they were from the mines.

Hekabi told her to go and fill the waterskins, but she refused; she wasn't going near the warriors, or those slaves. Hekabi leaned closer. “Shall I tell them who you are?”

Pirra glared at her. Snatching the skins, she stalked off.

To her relief, the warriors were too hungry to notice her, and she found a spot some distance from them and the slaves.

As she knelt by the shallows, she saw one of the boys edging toward the warriors. When the nearest man opened his food pouch, the boy sidled closer. When the man glanced up, the boy stopped and tended to his waterskins.

Now the warrior was sharpening his knife on a whetstone.

What happened next was so fast that Pirra didn't even see it. One moment there was a chunk of tuna jutting from the man's pouch; the next, it was gone, the sack's contents were deftly rearranged so that he wouldn't notice, and the boy had shot under the willows and was gobbling his prize with the ferocity of a wild beast savaging its kill.

Pirra froze.

The boy was Hylas.

H
e seemed to sense her staring, and lifted his head.

For one astonished heartbeat, his tawny eyes widened. Then he went back to demolishing his fish. He was pretending he hadn't recognized her, but he had.

Squatting with her waterskin, Pirra sidled closer. “Hylas, it's me!”

“Shut
up
!” he hissed.

She remembered that the Crows knew his name; he'd be using a false one. “Sorry. I—”

“I thought you were safe in Keftiu! How'd they get you too?”

“What? Oh—no, I'm not a slave, I just look like one. I escaped from Keftiu. I thought I'd ended up here by chance—but not anymore . . .” She was gabbling. But it was so incredibly good to see him.

On the other side of the pool, an older boy with a hook nose and a scowl shouted at someone called Flea to hurry up. Hylas shouted back that he was coming.

“Did you find your sister?” whispered Pirra.

“Does it look like it?”

“What happened to your earlobe?”

“I got a man to cut it off.”

She winced. “Was that so they wouldn't know you're an Outsider?”

“
Sh!
” He cast about him. “Shouldn't have bothered,” he added. “Nobody'd recognize me like this.”

He was right. He'd been skinny before, but now his shoulder blades jutted like knives, and she could see every one of his ribs. He was caked in red filth, and his back was covered in weals. Only the way he moved had alerted her, and his straight nose that made an unbroken line with his brow.

“Stop staring,” he muttered.

She bristled. “You must be a bit glad to see me. And thank you, yes,” she added tartly, “I did manage to escape from the House of the Goddess, and it was actually quite hard.”

He snorted a laugh, and was suddenly much more like himself. “So how'd you do it, then?”

“I bribed a wisewoman. That's her over there. She said we were going to the White Mountains, but she lied.” She gulped. “I'm
so
glad to see you.”

He frowned, but she could tell he was pleased. “What,” he said, “stinking like a dung heap and crawling with lice?”

“Well, I bet I don't look much better.”

He flashed her a grin. “You're right about that. Bit of a change from gold spangles and Keftian purple.”

She laughed, and smoothed her tunic over her knees. “I got it from a peasant. Do I look like a boy?”

“No. You haven't got a hope of looking like a boy.”

“Oh,” said Pirra, oddly pleased.

Hylas splashed her.

She splashed him back. “You're a
really
good thief,” she said enviously.

He shrugged. “Lots of practice. You're going to need to learn how.”

“But you did take a chance stealing from a Crow. What if he'd recognized you?”

“He wouldn't. I'm a slave. Nobody looks at slaves.”

The Sun was rising, and farther off, the other boys had filled their waterskins.

“I'll help you escape,” said Pirra.

He threw her a strange, lost look. “You can't. I tried twice. Got as far as the Neck over there. Zan tracked me—”

“Who's Zan?”

“Pirra,
listen
! I'm a slave, see? A pit spider. That means I go down the pit every day and don't come out till dark. Down there it's not just rockfalls you got to watch out for, it's snatchers. And one's got into Spit and he's . . .” He could see that she had no idea what he was talking about.

One of the warriors ambled to the pool's edge not five paces away from them. Hylas retreated farther into the willows, and Pirra bent over the water.

The warrior dipped in his head, then returned to the others, wringing out his long black hair.

“Spit's what?” prompted Pirra. The Crows were ready to move off, and Hekabi was beckoning.

“Can a spirit get inside a person?” Hylas said abruptly.

“What? Yes, sometimes. It sends them mad. They bring people like that to the House of the Goddess to be cured. It doesn't always work.”

“That's what's happened to Spit, but the others don't believe me.” His jaw tightened. “I watch him all the time. And I've learned the places where there are beams propping up the roof. They'll be our only hope if he tries anything. Although what good will that be if the tunnel caves in and we're trapped?”

He was talking to himself; she couldn't follow. “What do you mean, if he tries anything?”

He swallowed. “He's going to bring down the mine.”

Pirra's spine prickled. Hylas was scared. It took a lot to frighten him.

Hekabi was coming to fetch her, looking annoyed.

“I have to go,” she said.

Hylas jerked his head at the warriors. “Do they know who you are?”

“Of course not!”

“So where are they taking you?”

“Kreon.”

“
Kreon?
What's he want with you?”

“Not me, Hekabi. I'm supposed to be her slave.”

He was struggling to take it in. “Whatever you do, keep your head down and don't say anything! Someone might remember what you look like.”

“Thanks, I'd managed to think of that myself.” She gave him a wry smile, but he didn't smile back.

“I mean it, Pirra, keep your head down. It's not just clothes that make a disguise. You still hold yourself like the daughter of a priestess. And you're too clean. You're poor now. Act like it.”

Pirra scooped a handful of mud and rubbed it over her face and hair.

“Better,” said Hylas.

“I will help you escape,” she said fiercely.

Again that strange, lost look. “Don't even try,” he warned. “You'll only put yourself in more danger than you are already.”

“That's my choice, not yours. We'll find a way off this island. Then I can finally give you that amulet I've been carrying around since last summer.”

Hekabi was almost within earshot.

“How will I reach you?” whispered Pirra.

Hylas shouldered his waterskins. At the last moment he turned and breathed one word: “
Hedgehog
.”

“So who
was
that?” said Zan as they dragged their empty sacks down to the deep levels.

“I told you,” said Hylas. “Just some slave I met once.”

“Oh yes? Is she your girl?”

“No!”

“Fine. Then you won't mind if I—”

“Yes I will, you stay away from her.”

“Why? She'd be quite pretty cleaned up—”

“Zan!” Hylas gave him a shove.

Zan laughed. “All right, all right. So if she's not your girl, what'd she want?”

“She's scared. They're taking her to Kreon. I told her I couldn't help.”

“You're right about that,” said Zan.

They went deeper, and the older boy became more subdued. Ahead of them, Spit began to whimper. Beetle swung his head from side to side, peering into the dark.

Mice scurried along the floor and a bat flickered past Hylas. He hardly noticed. Pirra was here, on Thalakrea.
Pirra
. Shock, joy, anxiety, fear—all churning inside him. He hated thinking of her in Kreon's stronghold. She was clever, but she hadn't grown up living by her wits. She'd need help getting out of there.

All of which should've made him angry. Now he had to think about her as well as himself. And yet—somehow, that didn't matter. He was no longer alone.

They reached one of the shafts that opened onto the deep levels. The greenstone was piled near it amid coils of rope, and the men who'd hauled it up from below were heading back to the upper levels. Hylas loaded his sack and tried to forget about Pirra. He had enough to worry about, staying alive down here.

This was one of the better places in the mines, where the roof was strengthened with beams; and the men had a lamp, so he could keep an eye on Spit.

Spit had grown even thinner and more like a skeleton than ever. Sometimes, Hylas almost felt sorry for him. Then he would remember the snatcher inside him, and what it might do.

“What's Kreon want with a wisewoman?” Bat asked Zan as they filled their sacks.

“He gets these terrible pains in his head,” said the older boy. “That's what I heard.”

“Maybe he'll die,” Bat said hopefully.

They sniggered. Hylas didn't. If Kreon died, the wisewoman would be punished—and so would Pirra.

“Pains in his head,” repeated Zan. “Maybe some spirit's sticking its knife in his ear, eh?”

“It's 'cuz he killed that lion,” said Bat with feeling. “He shouldn't of, it done nothing to him.”

“You and your animals,” teased Zan.

Hylas stopped listening.
I'll help you escape,
Pirra had said. She'd been so certain. That was only because she didn't know what the mines were like, but it still helped. And she'd called him Hylas. It had been a shock hearing her say his name, but a good one. For the first time in a moon, he felt like himself: not Flea the slave, but Hylas of Lykonia, who was going to escape and find his sister.

A bat brushed his ear, bringing him back to the present.

“Come on, Flea,” called Zan. “Time to get moving.”

As he started after them, mice scurried over his hands, and he shooed them away.

Lots of mice: a river of tiny furry bodies and scratchy little feet. It struck him that they were all scurrying the same way.

The bats too were all flying
up
the tunnel.

He stopped. What had they sensed?

Beneath his palms, he felt a tiny shudder in the rock.

He went cold. “Zan!” he yelled. “Bat! Beetle! Get back here!”

“What?”

“Get back here under the beams, quick!
It's caving in!
”

There was a roaring in his ears and the lamp snuffed out.

Then the darkness slammed down.

“Z
an? Can you hear me?”

“
F-Flea?
Where are you?”

“Down here by the shaft. You?”

“Uh . . . Tunnel's blocked. I can't see a thing.”

“Me neither. Are the others with you?—Zan?”

“Um—yes.”

“There's space where I am. Can you make it down?”

“I—I think so.”

“There's a gap, can you reach my hand? Got you. Can you get through?
Zan
. Answer me. Can you get through?”

“M-maybe.”

“Right. Bat, you first, you're the smallest. He's through, Zan. Get behind me, Bat, and mind the shaft. Beetle, you're next. It's Flea, I've got you. Your turn, Zan.”

“N-no, Spit's next.”

“
Spit?
” Hylas hadn't reckoned on Spit being there; he was the one who'd caused the cave-in by knocking out the prop.

“H-help me,” stammered Spit.

In the dark, Hylas felt bony fingers clutch his through the gap. He hesitated. He was trapped eight levels down with a mad boy possessed by a snatcher. But this was no time for a fight. Quickly, he pulled Spit through, followed by Zan. The five of them huddled together, their breath loud in the dark.

“What do we do now, Zan?” said Bat in a small voice.

Zan didn't reply. Hylas could feel him shaking. He was supposed to be the leader, but instead he was frozen with fear.

Hylas said, “What do you think, Zan? The main tunnel's blocked; any chance we could dig our way out?”

“None,” said Zan curtly.

“Right. So we find another way. Help me feel for gaps.”

The older boy seemed to get a grip on himself, and together they started groping in the dark.

“How did you know it was going to cave in?” said Zan in a low voice.

“What?” said Hylas.

“You warned us just before it happened. How'd you know?”

“Ask Spit,” muttered Hylas. “He got us into this.”

“I n-never!” stammered Spit.

“He couldn't have,” said Zan, “he was right in front of me, he wasn't doing anything.”

“We're wasting time,” said Hylas. Then later, “I think I've found something. Can you feel a draft? Behind these rocks. Wasn't there a side-tunnel?”

Zan gasped. “Of course! It's not used, but—”

“If we could clear the entrance,” said Hylas, “it might be a way out.”

A cold hand clutched his shoulder. “It's no use,” said Beetle.

Angrily, Hylas shook him off.

“It's no
use,
” Beetle repeated.

From below, a man's voice rang out. “Who's up there? Let down the rope!”

They froze. They'd forgotten the men in the deep levels.

Hylas crawled to the shaft and peered down. A man holding a rushlight peered up at him. He was filthy and gaunt, but Hylas recognized the man with the broken nose.

“Let down the rope,” he ordered.

Hylas grabbed it, but Zan held him back. In the glimmer from below, his face was clammy and pale. “
What if that's not really a man?
” he breathed. “
What if it's a snatcher?
”

Again Hylas peered down the shaft. The man with the broken nose had been joined by three others. All were wild-eyed and covered in grime. They didn't look human. Did those matted beards conceal the telltale ridge?

“We can't leave them to die,” he said.

“What if Zan's right?” whispered Spit, his eyes bulging with terror.

Hylas swallowed. He called down to the man with the broken nose. “What's your name?”

“Periphas. What's yours?”

“Where are you from?”

“What does that matter? Throw down the rope!”

“Answer me!”

“Messenia, you know that! Now the rope!”

“That proves nothing,” hissed Zan.

“You're right,” said Hylas, “but we
need
them. We can't clear this tunnel on our own. We'll just have to risk it.”

When you're underground, time doesn't exist. Hylas had no idea how long it had been since the men had climbed out of the shaft.

Only four survivors from the deep levels; although from glances exchanged between them, Hylas guessed that an overseer
had
survived, and been swiftly finished off.

They weren't snatchers. At least, he didn't think they were, but they worked with the strength of ten men, while he and the others helped as best they could.

At last the entrance to the side-tunnel was clear. It led upward; they felt a faint draft that was slightly fresher.

From the deep levels, the men had salvaged three rushlights, two coils of rope, and a full waterskin. Periphas, who seemed to be the leader, allowed everyone a mouthful of water, then they headed off. The men went first to clear the way, followed by Zan, Bat, Spit, and Beetle. Hylas volunteered to go last, with a rushlight, so that he could keep an eye on Spit.

It was painfully slow going, as they had to keep stopping to clear rubble and listen for more cave-ins. Soon Hylas' rushlight was nearly spent.

He began to regret having offered to go last. Ahead of him he heard Beetle's harsh breathing, and the others shuffling forward. Behind him—what?

He pictured the angry ghosts of dead hammermen crawling out of the shaft, and snatchers emerging from the walls and silently following. He thought of cold earthen fingers stealing down his throat, squeezing his hot fluttering heart . . .

In front of him, Beetle came to a sudden halt.

“Why'd you stop?” said Hylas. The glimmer of the others' light was moving ahead.

“It's no use,” said Beetle, shaking his head.

“Stop saying that!”

The others rounded a bend and their light blinked out. Hylas' own was nearly spent. He called to them to wait, but they didn't hear.

“It's no
use,
” repeated Beetle.

Hylas grabbed his shoulder and shook him. “I'm not leaving you, so get moving!”

Beetle turned his head and stared at him. In the rushlight's dying glimmer, his eyes were unblinking and strangely dull. His flesh felt clammy. Hylas snatched his hand away.

The light died.

In the dark, Hylas felt Beetle's breath on his face. It smelled of clay. Horror washed over him. Everything fell into place. Beetle was friendly aboveground, but surly and silent down the pit: like two people in one body.

“It's not Spit who's possessed,” whispered Hylas. “It's
you
.”