by Ehsan Ahmad
“Who else is out there? Who else is doing something?”
Nomora opened his mouth but stopped himself.
“What about the Kinassans? They defied the Vitaari, didn’t they?”
The Lovirr shook his head. “No one has heard from them in years. They withdrew far to the south. I believe an attempt was made some time back, but there was no confirmation of contact.”
“Where else? Where else are people taking action?”
Nomora held up his hands. Sonus noted how small they were, like a child’s. “Let me talk to my contacts. But I ask you to do nothing until we have spoken again. I am assigned to this ship for the next few months. I will be back before too long. Make plans if you wish, but please wait.”
“Very well.”
“Sonus, you have a rare gift. I understand you may want revenge, but you must not risk your life too readily. We need you; we need what you can do.”
Sonus leant over him. “I do want revenge, you’re right. But I want something more. And I can’t do it alone.”
“I understand.”
Nomora peered around the corner of the container. “I should go.”
Sonus handed him the bag of figurines. “If anyone asks, we must tell the same story. There are four in there. How much apple will that get me?”
“About eight pounds.”
Sonus offered his hand. Nomora shook it. “Be careful.”
“You too.”
Cerrin made good use of her last day of freedom. The guards had revealed that the women would be back with a big crew the following day, though no one seemed sure what the work would be. She was not with Yarni nor Sadi, but while her fellow laborers were eating, she found time to sneak off. There was an area she needed another look at.
Without a reference, it was difficult to work out how the layout of the tunnels corresponded to the surface. But she had found just such a point on the second day of the job. The top layer of tunnels was fitted with air ducts. Cerrin had never paid much attention to them before, but by pacing out distances, she had established that one came out below a grill situated on the far side of the latrine. It was too narrow to fit through, but the tunnel underneath ran roughly parallel to the accommodation block. Cerrin could only guess at the distance to the surface, but she and Sadi agreed it could not be much more than fifteen or twenty feet.
Cerrin now stood directly below the base of the air duct. Brushing away a wispy cobweb, she continued on along the darkened tunnel. Ten paces. Twenty. The closest lamp was now a long way behind her. She reached into her overalls and took out a candle Yarni had been saving and a fire-lighter supplied by Sadi. She lit it and continued on.
The yellow light pooled across the rusting remnants of some piece of machinery. Cerrin climbed over it. Beyond were more cobwebs and some pale roots that had broken through the roof. Thirty paces. Thirty-five. At forty, she felt sure she was beyond the wall of Mine Fourteen. The tunnel ended five yards ahead. If her estimates were correct, a continuation of it would come out on the slope above the river. She gave no thought to getting across it, or anything else that might distract her from her current concern.
She walked up to the solid wall of earth and held the candle close. Scattered amongst the hard-packed soil were jagged lumps of rock. It would not be easy to dig through, but again, that was not something that required consideration yet. She and Sadi had agreed on their approach: one step at a time.
As usual, the meeting was arranged through young Yarni. Entering the latrine, Cerrin found Sadi washing her face in a trough of water. The Palanian shook her head and pointed at one of the cubicles. They spoke only when the occupant had left.
“Well?”
“It’s out of the way. Dark. Perfect. If we can get to it.”
“I had a quick look between Blocks A and B yesterday. I agree it’s not right on top of the tunnel, but there’s nowhere else out of sight to start digging.”
“No good,” said Cerrin, who had given the issue a great deal of thought. “The noise. It’s not only me who made a window by knocking out a ventilator. Yarni’s been checking. There are seven or eight holes in the back of the container. Someone will hear us.”
“Where, then?” asked Sadi. “On the far side of B are those other containers, but they’re packed tight as can be.”
“Not quite. I had a look. There are gaps. And it’ll be out of sight. And quiet. We can check now.”
Cerrin led the way. The greatest risk came as they passed through the light from the lamp above the latrine door. There was only a little patch of darkness between it and the one on Block A. Any Vitaari looking in that direction would see that they were not returning to the container, but the pair heard no shout or sound of movement. There was little noise at all: just the rumble of some drill far beneath and the rattle of the conveyor as it moved the never-ending supply of rock from the mine to the warehouse.
Block B was quiet; all the laborers were working below. Cerrin hurried past the open door to the stack of containers beside it. They were four across and three high. Beyond the last of them was unused space, then the compound wall.
With only moon and starlight to guide them, they headed right and stopped at each point where the containers met. Cerrin was correct: there were gaps, but the first two were only of inches. They could not move between them, and certainly would not have space to dig. But the gap between the last two containers was larger, perhaps ten inches.
“Careful,” whispered Sadi. “Might be stuff on the ground.”
Cerrin turned sideways and entered the gap. She shuffled along with hands against the cold metal, taking each step slowly. Eventually, she reached an intersection between four of the containers. The shortest distance between the corners was about thirty inches. Not much space. But enough.
“We can dig here,” she said. “No one will see. No one will hear. These containers haven’t moved in years. They’d have to shift both blocks to get to them. What about tools?”
“We can get a shovel or two out of the mine,” said Sadi. “But we’re, what, forty feet from where we need to be? On a diagonal, total distance might be sixty. Even if we could get someone from the night shift to help, we can’t do it in daylight—what if a patrol flies overhead? And between us, we can do at most half an hour a night. It would take months.”
Cerrin had arrived at the same conclusion days ago.
“We need more people,” added Sadi.
“I know. A lot more people.”
The cloak was made from a thick, hardy blanket. Qari had given it to him for his thirty-fourth birthday. But even as he pulled it tight around him and tied the clasp below his neck, Sonus did not think of her. He tried to think of her and Karas only when he felt prepared for it, and now was not one of those occasions.
At first he thought no one was on duty, but then he spied the light coming from the small cave closest to the walkway. His approach startled Orani and her husband, who were sitting close together, wrapped in layers of their own blankets.
“Who—” The old man’s sight was not good.
“It’s Sonus,” said Orani. “What are you doing up at this hour?”
“Just realized I left some equipment switched on in the yard. I’ll be in trouble if it stays on all night.”
“Ah.”
“Sit with us a while, lad,” said the husband, who was named Keras.
“I really should get up there.”
“Just for a moment. We’ve some hot tea. It’ll warm you up a bit before you brave the walk in this snow.”
Sonus admitted to himself a few moments with the old couple might be pleasant. He could not remember the last time he had just talked to someone. Keras found a stool for him, and he sat down between them, facing the snow streaking through the darkness. From above came the weak glow of the lights attached to the walkway.
This duty had been divided amongst the inhabitants of Mine Three for as long as he could remember. It was
not a result of Vitaari orders, but something the community had decided on. There were several reasons why it was useful to have someone watching the mouth of the cavern. The first was they could give adequate warning if the guards came down the walkway. Their considerable weight caused the scaffolding to shake in unmistakable fashion, and early word could give a crucial minute or two to anyone who needed it. The second reason was to provide help to anyone who got into difficulty. Over the years, several people had been lost over the side, and one unfortunate had been found clinging to the bottom of the shaky structure.
The last reason was perhaps the most important. In the first few months, there had been several suicides. People simply got up and walked out of their caverns, leaving someone or no one, and threw themselves off. There had been even more deaths from this spot than within the mine. Sonus had a theory about it; people felt most alone in the dead of night.
“To be honest, I didn’t realize you still did this. Have there been any… incidents?”
“No, not recently,” said Orani.
“Apart from the hawk,” said Yeras.
Orani tutted.
Yeras continued: “One night last week, the wind died for a few hours. A snowhawk landed on the rail, just a few yards from here. Beautiful creature. Magnificent.”
“I wish I’d seen that.”
“If Orani hadn’t been here too, I might have thought I imagined it.”
She poured Sonus’s tea—from a flask into a mug.
He kept his gloves on while he drank.
“Would you like me to cut your hair again?” asked Orani.
Sonus did his best to rearrange the shaggy mess that now hung down over his brow and ears. “Yes, thank you, Orani—when there’s time.”
“Such a nice color, just a little unruly.”
Sonus’s mother had always told him his hair was his best feature. She had also told him he was handsome, but he had long ago realized he was middling at best. He had at least inherited his father’s athletic frame, which had given him an advantage over most of his peers at the university.
“I hear you’ve been back in the yard a lot,” said Keras.
Sonus nodded as he sipped the tea: it was weak but pleasant. “Cleaning drill tracks.”
“Any luck with those figurines?” asked Keras. “The freighter was in today, wasn’t it?”
“It was. I did a deal—all four for eight pounds of dried apples. Won’t be here in time for Maker’s Day, but we can still hand them out to the young ones.”
“Well done,” said Keras.
“Was there any news from the Lovirr?” asked Orani.
“Not much. You know how they are. It was all I could do to persuade them to trade.”
“Arkus speaks to them now and again,” said Orani. “He says they have forgotten us.”
“So has everyone,” added Keras. “We are alone up here.”
“The Maker has not forgotten us,” said Orani, turning to her husband. “You said that hawk was a sign. A sign from him.”
Keras seemed embarrassed. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“We are the only living things up here,” said Sonus.
“Apart from them,” said Orani.
“They do not count,” countered Keras. He looked out at the snow for a time, then spoke to Sonus. “You are an intelligent man. You were at the university. You must agree with me that everything we Palanians had achieved in the last decades improved us—medicine, exploration, science, politics. We made our society richer, more advanced, more fair.”
“We did.”
“The invaders are far, far more advanced. Rich beyond imagining. And yet they are so cruel. I do not understand why.”
After he’d finished his tea, Sonus left them. He had known stronger winds, but the snow was incredibly heavy: dense flurries of inch-wide flakes that whipped across the walkway. He kept at least one gloved hand clamped to the scaffold all the way, and it took him twice as long as usual to reach the top.
He knew from the night shift that the Vitaari hadn’t bothered to post a guard at the top for more than a year; they had obviously concluded there was no need.
Hunched over, holding his hood tight with one hand, Sonus walked across the slushy ground to the corner of the closest building: the generator station. He looked up at the tower and spied a figure move away from a window. Two guards could be seen trudging toward the mine, powerful flashlights lighting their way.
Sonus peered around the corner toward the armory and gained the solitary piece of information he needed. The guard was clad in a bulky jacket, with a visored helmet upon his head and wrappings to protect his face. His rifle was over his shoulder, and he was walking circuits between the armory and the barracks to keep warm. He was alone.
The visions were getting better. Without even opening his eyes, Vellerik reached over to the box and grabbed another capsule.
He walks out onto a terrace bathed in sun. The wind is light but strong enough to refresh. Barefoot, he strides down the slope to the water. She is already on the little island. Sand yields under his feet until he pushes off. The water is perfect, and he enjoys every moment of the swim because it brings her closer. As he walks up the beach, she stands, pale robes clinging to her form. She smiles, eyes enchanting and kind.
Happiness.
20
The workers stood in silence. Three Vitaari guards watched while a fourth paced up and down, eyes fierce.
“Who was it? I know it was one of you.”
They had been on their way to a freshly cut shaft. They’d passed numerous male drilling crews and several tracked loaders. They’d been through clouds of thick choking dust, through tunnels none of them had ever seen before. The guards had revealed they would be ferrying wheeled crates of aronium: the crews were cutting so much that the loaders couldn’t keep up.
A vehicle had broken down ahead of them, so they’d been told to wait. Two of the Vitaari had gone ahead; the other pair had stayed with the workers. Eventually, the loader was repaired, and the vehicle came past them. The two guards returned. One of them had left a pack against the tunnel wall. It had disappeared.
“Who took it?”
Like the others, Cerrin was keeping her head down. She knew the guard’s face, and he knew hers.
“I’m waiting.”
He turned off his translator and spoke to the other guards. They didn’t seem particularly concerned.
Everyone present knew he wouldn’t wait long. If they were late to their work, it was he who would be in trouble.
He stopped by one of the younger women, clicked his translator back on, and nudged her chin up with his hand. “See anything?”
“No, sir.”
He toyed with his jolt-rod. “Sure?”
“Yes, sir. I was just waiting like the others.”
He eyed a couple more, continued along the line in Cerrin’s direction.
“You—you were running around, as usual. You must have seen something.”
A murmur of concern from the women. Cerrin peered forward and realized he was looking down at Yarni. Dwarfed by the guard’s enormous bulk, the girl had fixed her eyes on the ground, hands clasped in front of her.
“Speak!”
“I don’t know anything about it, sir.”
Cerrin could not stop herself. She was already moving through the others when a strong hand gripped her wrist. She turned and saw Sadi, face resolute. The Palanian eased her grip and gave a barely perceptible shake of her head.
“Liar,” said the guard. “You’ll all lie to me. Unless you can be persuaded to tell the truth.”
He reached for his belt, pulled out his jolt-rod.
One of the other Vitaari walked toward him.
The guard grabbed Yarni by the shoulder and turned her around to face the others.
“Someone better start talking.” He moved his thumb over the controls of the rod. “There—weakest setting. She�
��s still going to smoke a bit though.”
Yarni’s eyes scanned back and forth. Realizing she was looking for her, Cerrin stood as tall as she could. When she saw her, Yarni somehow smiled.
The guard glanced at his colleagues, then back at the women. “Still waiting.”
He held the jolt-rod an inch from Yarni’s head. She kept her eyes on Cerrin, who was already moving forward again.
Sadi tightened her grip once more and whispered into her ear.
“Don’t do it.”
“Last chance,” said the guard. “Someone better say something quick.”
Cerrin had just shaken herself free when the other Vitaari—who looked quite a bit older—spoke and pointed at the ground on the other side of the tunnel. The guard holding Yarni snapped some-thing back at him. His compatriot kicked at the dusty ground, then gestured at one particular spot.
The guard walked over to him, then reached down and plucked his pack from the dirt. It appeared to have been squashed by the passing loader. As he checked the contents, the other three laughed.
The older guard turned on his translator and walked up to Yarni. He stroked a finger across her hair, then ushered her back to the group. One of the women held her close.
“Let’s move out,” said the guard. “Quickly.”
The younger man was still inspecting his crushed belongings.
As the others moved off, Sadi whispered to Cerrin once more. “Same place, same time tonight. We need three names each. Got it?”
Cerrin nodded.
As Sadi moved away, Yarni broke free of the woman holding her and grabbed her hand. Cerrin held it tight.
The hours of the morning passed with agonizing slowness; a single line from Kadessis had thrown Sonus into a panic. Just as he’d reached the maintenance yard that morning, the administrator had walked past. “I need to speak to you later.”
Sonus always found it hard to read the tone of the Vitaari, and he had replayed the incident countless times. Had the phrase seemed casual? Serious? Grave?
