Then the lantern threw its dim glow over the tunnel entrance. As Mattias had predicted, their crude entrance was almost completely sealed by ice. That was why the water flow had nearly stopped: there was no longer an air current to guide the water. She glanced around—where was the blower?
Fear coursed through her: What if the blower was on the other side? She stared at the wall of ice. A small hole remained of their opening, hardly big enough to put her fist through. She was trying to peer through it when she heard voices on the other side. Thea recognized one.
“Lucian, it's Thea! We're behind the wall!”
A woman's rough voice answered—Thea didn't recognize it. “Stand well back!” She and Peter pushed the sleigh back as hot water showered over them.
The new ice melted quickly, and soon an arm was thrust through the hole.
“Come,” the rough voice said, “one at a time.”
“No,” Thea called, “we need more room. Mattias is hurt, strapped to the sleigh.”
“Not much time,” Thea heard Lucian say. Before what? She wondered.
Water shot through the hole in a steady stream, and it widened slowly until Thea shouted “Big enough!” Holding tightly to the front of the sleigh where Mattias still lay unconscious, she and Peter inched forward through a large warm puddle of water. Then they were crouching to step through the opening.
The arm was extended again, and Thea grasped it as she stepped through the hole, emerging to find herself gripping the strong hand of Mattias's grandmother, Dexna.
“She is her m other's daughter,” said De xna, holding fa st to Thea as she looked her up and d own. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I don't think so,” Thea said slowly. Dexna—speaking? And with a forcefulness she could not have imagined.
Lucian stood beside Dexna, breathing hard with exertion. The handblower was on the ground beside him.
Before Thea could do or say anything else, Peter was struggling through the hole. Thea extended a hand to help him down. “Mattias would not be alive if Peter had not helped us. He has risked his own life for ours.”
Lucian and Dexna stared at Peter for a long moment. Thea had no idea what they might do, but she certainly didn't expect Lucian's bow and Dexna's handshake.
“Hello,” Peter said, then stared at the vast lake surrounded by thin-trunked trees. His mouth hung open. Through the trees, Thea could make out the forms of skaters flying along the Mainway on the way back to their workposts after their noontime meals. He would have a lot of questions.
Could it be possible that no one was going to start screaming at her? The moment Thea had so dreaded passed, and then the four of them were lowering the sleigh carefully to the ground. Mattias still slept.
“He fell,” Thea said. “His legs were wedged into the ice. I didn't think we were going to be able to lift him …”
Dexna quickly loosened the straps and furs around Mattias and began feeling his limbs, lifting his eyelids, shifting his head gently in her hands. After a minute she gave a sharp nod and said, “No permanent harm done.”
“Are you sure? He'll be himself again?” Thea submitted to a cursory examination, but then shook off Dexna's hands, forcing herself to speak more confidently than she felt.
“I'm fine. I must find Dolan to care for Ham and Peg— they've frozen their paws.” She flipped down her skate blades, feeling Peter's eyes on her.
“You'd best come to the archive with us first,” Dexnasaid as she began to wrap Mattias in the furs again. She came across one of Peter's handwarmers and poked it experimentally. Thea was about to explain when Dexna shrugged and shoved it beneath a fur. Nothing appeared to surprise the woman.
“I'll send a messenger to your aunt Lana,” Dexna went on. “I believe Dolan is at your chambers as well, along with Sela. You and Mattias were both missed at first light. They've been worried.”
Dexna gestured Peter to her own sleigh, where Lucian was busy obscuring the blower with some empty cloth sacks. Peter was still gaping at the lake. He seemed interested in the empty fishing docks now, though the boats were all out of sight across the lake. She wondered just how strange all of this was to him.
“We'll have to wait a bit if we want to avoid a lot of attention on the backways,” Lucian said.
Thea shook her head. “I can't wait. I have to get Dolan—I'll bring him to the archive.” She turned to Peter. “You go with them. I'll be straight there.” And before anyone could say another word, she skated off toward the Mainway.
Thea stumbled on her skates just before she reached the first pass, catching herself before she hit the hard ground of the Mainway. She needed rest. It was midday and full light, yet everything looked dim to her, even after her hours in the dark tunnel. All of the light had agreenish tinge to it, she realized. How had she never noticed it before?
She knew she had to decide what to say to Lana, but the ability to think logically escaped her. The best she could manage was one deep breath while she flipped up her skate blades before opening the door.
Lana stood near the greatroom basin with Sela. Their faces flooded with relief.
Dolan sat at the long table, a bowl of food in front of him. Seeing it, Thea had two realizations: One, she was almost as hungry as she was tired. And two, Dolan must be upset indeed. His plate was untouched.
Dolan rose to his feet. “Deceit, Thea? Deceit? I thought I knew you. You may consider your duties at the breeding grounds concluded. I will not put Chikchu lives into the hands of a person so unworthy of trust!”
He was almost shouting, which was a shock. She had never heard him raise his voice before, except to be heard over a pack fight. Too exhausted to cry, she stood just inside the door, shaking her head mutely.
Finally noticing the state of Thea's fur and the scratches on her hands, Dolan softened his tone. “Are you hurt? What happened to you up there? Thea, where is Mattias?”
Thea kept shaking her head. These were three of the most important people in her life. How could she tell them that she had risked Mattias, that she had almostlost him, so that she might have a glimpse of the wider world? And another thought crept in: Had Dolan said “up there”?
Sela grabbed her hands and forced Thea to meet her gaze. “Where is Mattias?”
Sela must fear the worst. “Mattias is safe,” she managed. “He is with his grandmother at the archive.”
Sela kissed Thea and flew out the door.
Thea felt herself sway a bit. She turned to Dolan. “Peg needs care, and Ham. They are at the archive too. Will you help me with them?”
Already starting for the dock door, Dolan said, “I have a team here, we'll take the backways. It will take a while longer arriving, but we'll have the proper equipment when we …”
“Dolan,” Lana interrupted quietly. “Thea cannot go with you. Have sense.”
Thea had every intention of going. She had to get to the archive. Peg was there, hurt. Mattias was in no condition to explain to everyone what had happened, and the boy Peter was surely bewildered beyond words. She had promised to see him back home.
She tried to frame a sentence in her mind, a place to start. She wanted Lana to know about the tunnel, and the murals. She wanted Lana to know that they were meant to rejoin the wider world. She wanted to explain about Mattias, to share the depths of that despair withsomeone who would truly understand, and to tell her about Peter, and what he and his dog had risked for them. She wanted to tell Lana about the stars, and the air, and the sun, and the vastness of the surface.
No time. She had to get back to Mattias, to Ham and Peg, to Peter. She tried to cross the greatroom behind Dolan, but her feet were taking tiny steps, as if she were a child again. Just as she felt herself falling, Thea was embraced from behind.
“I have you,” Lana said. Thea's eyes closed against her will as Lana cradled her, easily holding her aloft in arms strengthened by a lifetime of nurturing.
Peter stared at the lake. How could Thea have left him here without telling
him what was going on? It was obvious the place was more than a camp. Peter had seen enough to know that before he was five steps out of the tunnel. His father had told him that there were such things as freshwater lakes deep inside the ice sheet—they were heated by magma, and gases that escaped through fissures in the earth. But Peter was pretty sure they didn't come equipped with docks or trees along the shore. Or benches under the trees.
The man and woman talked quietly together. Every few minutes the woman leaned over to touch Mattias's face or pat the furs around him. They had asked Peter to sit on another sled, one they must have brought with them, and now they seemed to have forgotten all about him. He kept one hand on Sasha.
The lake was vast and glimmering. He couldn't see the far side—the water just faded into darkness. Peter looked up and found that the ceiling, about ten feet above his head, was shedding a bright, faintly green light. How? He wondered if it had to do with the humming sound he heard.
The woman began to come toward him. Her fur was a little different from Thea's. It was open at the collar, and had loose sleeves that flapped at her wrists when she walked. She held a grayish cup out to him. “Water,” she said. “Best thing after a journey.”
He took it and drank. It tasted like water.
When she raised her hand to take the cup from him, one of her sleeves fell back, revealing something clasped to her arm. Something that was a shade of red he knew well. His heart began to pound. This place had something to do with the ring in the ice.
Something to do with his mother.
“Ready, then?” The woman smiled. “Lucian will escort you to the top of the passage.”
“Now, you mean? But … won't I see Thea again?”
The woman looked surprised, and shook her head. “I'm afraid not.”
“But … but how is it that you live here? Are there lots of other people? What are you doing down here?”
The woman looked him over slowly, from head to toe and back up to his face again. Then she sat down next to him. Her hair, twisted into a bun, was a silvery gray, but her skin was remarkably smooth. Something about her dark brown eyes, shaped like almonds, made him want to like her.
“We don't know each other, but I can feel goodness in you,” she said. “And I am sorry, but I cannot answer your questions.”
He absorbed that, trying not to be scared. She took one of his hands in hers. They felt cool and feathery.
“And I will ask you not to return here, though you may be curious about this place. I won't demand your word. We both know that I have asked, and perhaps that will be enough.”
She didn't say it rudely. Peter got the sense she was trying not to hurt his feelings. He nodded, and then decided to take one last shot. “Can I ask one thing? You can say no.”
She smiled again, and Peter noticed flecks of green in her eyes. “You may ask me a question.”
“Can I see what's on your arm?” He nodded to her right hand.
Her expression changed—she was calculating something—and then her face relaxed again. “I can think of no reason why not,” she said, and raised her sleeve to reveal a row of bracelets exactly like the one in the ice wall. Twisting bands, the color of blood.
He had no idea what showed on his face.
“Do these mean something to you?” Her tone was friendly, but it was obvious that the question was important to her.
“No—no, I've just never seen anything like them before. They're pretty. I mean, that's a nice color.”
She nodded and dropped her arm. “I must see to my grandson now.” She looked at him very closely, as if she were trying to memorize his face. “Good-bye, Peter.”
Peter nodded and stood up. “Bye.” He didn't know her name.
“What's that noise?” Peter asked the man—Lucian— when they were at the tunnel entrance.
“What noise?” Lucian looked around quickly.
“It sounds sort of like a heartbeat. Don't you hear it?”
The man looked relieved. “A heartbeat. How apt an analogy that is. Yes, I do hear it,” he said. “But I am unaware of it for the most part.”
It wasn't much of an answer. Lucian seemed to enjoy questions about as much as Thea and the old woman did.
Lucian waved Peter toward the tunnel. “Just push yourself through. I'll send your companion after you.”
Peter climbed awkwardly into the tunnel. Without Thea's light, it was almost completely black. He heard Sasha somewhere near him. He tried to feel his way to her and hoped that he wasn't about to collide with Lucian.
The passage suddenly blazed around them—Lucian stood holding a round lamp like the one Thea had used. Peter squinted against the bright light.
Then Lucian was striding along ahead of him.
There was no longer any water on the tunnel floor, and the walking was relatively easy at first. But Lucian managed to stay well ahead of Peter, making it difficult to talk.
“Why are we in such a hurry?” Peter asked after a quick scurry that caught him up for a moment.
“I'd like to get back down before someone notices that hole in the wall,” Lucian snapped. He was touchy.
“Oh,” Peter said. “Is it like a secret back door or something?”
Lucian stopped walking and turned to him. “It is the only door.”
“The only door,” Peter repeated. Surely these people didn't live sealed up in ice.
“Yes.” Lucian looked at him steadily. “Our people were hunted. Our ancestors created this land so that we might live in peace.”
“But why? Where did you come from? You all sound like you're from England! Who would want to hurt you?”
Lucian walked with his eyes on his feet. “Our people were from England, originally. So were our pursuers: We fled to the cold world—to the place you know on the surface.”
“You mean Greenland?”
Lucian looked at Peter searchingly. “It is your home, then?”
“No! I'm from New York. I'm just visiting—my dad is a scientist, he studies glaciers.
The tunnel was gradually getting steeper, and Peter leaned hard into his strides. Sasha stayed next to him. They walked in silence for a time. Drawings appeared on the passage walls: people, dogs, bundles of furs and other things on sleds. He hadn't noticed them on the way down—too busy trying to hang on to the sled.
“I just think that I could help you,” Peter said after a while. “Or my parents could. My mother is English, too.”
He was just looking for things to keep Lucian talking. But he had clearly said the wrong thing.
Lucian stopped and fixed him with a dark look.
“Forgive me if I am not comforted by the fact of an Englishwoman in Greenland. Some believe that we may have been followed here.”
“But that's crazy,” Peter said. “There are no people waiting up there for you! My mother isn't looking for you! She's a scientist!” But as he was speaking, three images flashed in the back of Peter's mind: the ring in the ice wall, the old woman's bracelets, and his mother's drawing of mitochondrial DNA.
“Is she?” Lucian asked. “What kind of scientist?”
The pieces were coming together too quickly. “What?”
“What kind of a scientist is your mother?”
“She's a biologist.” A biologist who absentmindedly doodles pictures of jewelry from your secret world. A biologist who is looking for something. He heard her voice: Find it for me, Gregory. But his mom couldn't be any sort of hunter. That was impossible.
Lucian didn't say anything. He started walking again. Peter could see his rope lying on the tunnel floor now, leading out of the passageway. He wished Lucian wouldn't walk so fast. “But … how do you breathe? All closed in down there?”
The tunnel was steep now, but Lucian didn't break his stride. “We draw our air from the surface, through tiny channels in the ice. I'm afraid I have no more time for questions.”
They were at the top of the passage. Two words were written over the archway that led o
utside—“Hope lives”— but Lucian hardly gave them a glance as he stepped under them and into a light wind. The sun was high but clouded over.
“Can you find your way from here?” Lucian asked, glancing up.
“Yes,” Peter said. He thought of his sled at the bottom of the steep hill. More climbing.
Lucian nodded. “I'm afraid I'll need that fur,” he said.
Peter felt almost undressed in his coat. He had gotten used to the weight of the fur.
Lucian put his hands on Peter's shoulders and said, “Thank you for helping Thea bring Mattias back to us. And remember what I have told you.”
“I will,” Peter said. “And you're welcome.”
Peter and Sasha began to walk down toward their sled. Peter looked back once and saw Lucian standing at the edge of the slope, watching them, but the second time he looked the man was gone.
When they had dragged the sled back to the top of the long hill, Peter saw that his hook and rope were gone, too. He turned and walked toward home slowly, Sasha pulling the sled and Peter walking behind it. His body had never been so tired, but his brain felt wide awake. Had he really just been to a place no one else knewexisted? Why had these people been hunted? Was his own mother looking for them? Was his father?
By the time their camp came into view, it was hard for Peter to believe it was still the same day he'd left. As Sasha drew the sled up to the dogs' shelter, Peter's father came out of the blue tent, zipping his jacket. He looked upset.
“Sorry, I know it's late,” Peter started. “But I had all of my emergency equipment, in case anything came up.”
“Good,” his father said. He was distracted. “Peter, I came out here because I want you to be prepared. Your mother is having a bad patch.”
Peter thought of their living room at home, of the chair she always propped her body in during her “headaches” while her mind went someplace else.
“Sometimes these things go quickly, Peter. She may be herself in the morning.”
That had happened. Once. “Is she talking?” Peter asked.
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