Emilie & the Hollow World

by Martha Wells

  Rani managed a nod, and started to push herself up. Emilie got a toehold in the side of the channel wall, and dragged herself up all the way onto the rim. Once there, she took Rani's arm, helping to pull her the rest of the way out. Some of the water dripping onto the stone was tinged with red. “Are you all right?” Emilie asked Rani, peering at her in new alarm. “I think you're bleeding.”

  “I think I'm not as waterproof as I thought,” Rani admitted. She probed at her forehead, just at her hairline, and her fingers came away bloody. “And possibly hit my head on the bottom.”

  “We were that far down?” Appalled, Emilie glanced back at the water. She couldn't see the bottom.

  “Yes.” Rani staggered upright with Emilie's help, leaning on her. “This was perhaps not the best idea.”

  “I don't know what else we could have done.” Emilie stumbled a little on the grass as they headed for the concealment of the trees. “The merpeople must be-”

  She meant to say the merpeople must be guarding every entrance they knew about. But she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned her head, and gasped, “They're here!”

  Some distance down the open pathway, several silvery gray shapes were emerging from the forest - merpeople.

  Rani looked, and snarled a curse. She pulled away from Emilie, stumbling, and ripped the thong with the compass off her wrist. She pressed it into Emilie's hand, and said, “Run.”

  Emilie darted a look at the merpeople. They pelted toward them over the mossy grass, carrying the short fishing spears they used as weapons. Rani gave her a push, her eyes on the merpeople, and shouted, “Run, I'll catch up with you!”

  Emilie choked back a sob, and ran.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Emilie bolted through the forest, crashing through ferns, dodging past the slender green trunks. Instinct told her to run in a diagonal and not a straight line. Half-forgotten memories of hide-and-seek games with her brothers, back when they had been young enough to still want to play, came back to aid her. She stopped crashing through the brush, running more slowly but taking care not to make noise and leave obvious signs of her passage.

  She made herself stop and listen, holding her breath and trying to hear past her pounding heart. Bodies smashed through the vegetation not far away, and she knew Rani would never have made that much noise. Grimacing, Emilie fled off to the right and ducked between the bushes. She had left her boots back in their supply bag, but the ground was covered with a spongy moss that was soft on her feet and made no sound when she stepped on it.

  The forest was cloaked in deep green shadows, the air damp and thick with earthy scents. The soft birdcalls and the occasional darting insect seemed different from the dryer forest up on the island. This place is below the sea level, Emilie remembered. Maybe it was different, an artifact of the old Sealands Empire, like the flooded cities.

  She stopped three more times, and the third time she couldn't hear any sound of pursuit. Breathing hard, she kept moving but slowed her pace to a walk. They must have captured Rani, she thought, sick. Because I abandoned her. They would have both been caught if she hadn't, but it still felt like cowardice. Smart cowardice, but still cowardice.

  Emilie was sick of being compelled to abandon people. First Miss Marlende, then Rani. And your aunt and uncle, your brothers, and the rest of your family, a traitor voice whispered. That was different, she told herself desperately. That was a daring bid for freedom. But her family wouldn't see it that way, and now she might be trapped here and never able to send word to anyone. Her aunt and uncle would probably assume she had gone off to become a prostitute, but there were others - her oldest brother, Porcia and Mr. Herinbogel, Karthea, other friends - who would worry, who would think something terrible had happened to her.

  And they might be right.

  Emilie stopped, crouched down behind a tree, and gave way to tears. Once the first hard sobs were out, it was a relief, and she felt as if she could think more clearly. Still dripping tears, she licked her thumb and rubbed the surface of the compass. The arrow formed, pointing the way through the forest toward Dr. Marlende. If he was dead, would this still work, she wondered suddenly. Surely aether-navigators still worked, if the sorcerer who had made them died, otherwise they wouldn't be very practical. But maybe spells like this were different. She hoped so, because if the Nomads hadn't hurt any of their prisoners, maybe they wouldn't hurt Rani.

  Emilie wiped her face on her sleeve, looped the compass' cord over her head, and took quick stock of her resources. The matches and the knife Rani had given her were still in her pockets, though the matches would have to dry out before she could use them. Other than that, she had nothing. Just herself. You can do this, she thought, still sniffling. Whatever you have to do, you can do it. You aren't Emilie, runaway girl from the country. You're Emilie, the adventuress. Now get on your feet and find Dr. Marlende. She stood up and followed the compass through the shadowy forest.

  Emilie made her way through the trees and brush for perhaps two hours, though it was hard to judge the time. Water wasn't a problem - she had crossed three shallow clear streams cutting through the mossy floor - but she knew she was going to be pretty hungry by the time of the next eclipse. The texture of the moss kept her bare feet from getting too sore, but she was collecting an impressive array of bruises and scratches. She stopped at one point to climb a tree, finding handholds and footholds in the hard ridges that circled the trunk. It was a dauntingly tall tree, but she climbed just high enough to catch a glimpse of the airship's balloon through the heavy screen of palm leaves.

  Her first indication that she was nearing her destination was when she stubbed her toes on a rock. Hopping and muttering curses she had heard the Sovereign's sailors use, she realized it was a line of paving stones, half-buried in the moss. I bet I'm close, she thought, stepping over the paving and moving more carefully. There must be an old Sealands city or fort or something down here, which the Nomads had taken over.

  After a short time, the ground started to slope up, and she could see the trees and ferns thinned out ahead. She ducked down to creep close to the ground, and pressed on. As she got closer to the edge of the forest, she saw the ground dropped away into a bowl-shaped depression, and above it rose the silver-gray curve of the airship's balloon. Near it was a collection of conical white stone roofs. Emilie flattened herself down in the moss in the shadows under the last clump of ferns, and crept as close as she dared.

  Now she had a better view. Down in the shallow valley was a small city, much bigger than it had looked from the top of the waterfall cliffs when it had been concealed by the trees and mist. There were round towers, each a few stories tall, and between them short squat single-story buildings of smooth white stone. Unlike those in the Queen's city, they were round with bulbous curving sides. The floor of the little valley was dotted with large pools, all perfectly circular. She could see the airship where it was anchored near this end of the valley, the cabin hanging level with the roof of the nearest round bulgy tower.

  She could also see merpeople. Several moved purposefully out of one tower and toward another. There were three standing in front of the doorway of the tower nearest the airship, clearly on guard. All were armed with the short fishing spears. As she watched, another two merpeople surfaced in one of the pools, walking up the steps and out onto the mossy ground. The pools must be connected, to each other and maybe to the buildings. And maybe to the channel that circles the canyon? Emilie wasn't sure that would help her, if it was true. But there had to be a hidden harbor somewhere, where the Nomads kept their boats, and it would make sense if it was reached via underwater tunnels. She thought this place must be used as a fortress, rather than a permanent settlement; she didn't see any children, just adults.

  She looked harder at the airship, trying to see if anyone was aboard it. Like Lord Ivers' ship, the cabin was tucked up below the oblong balloon, and ran more than half the length of it. Unlike his, the cabin looked like it was made of some
light coppery metal, and had a narrow walkway with a single railing running all the way around. She didn't think it was large enough to have two decks. The oblong windows were larger, but she couldn't see anyone moving around inside. The compass pointed toward the airship, or at least toward that end of the compound.

  A plank bridge ran from the flat roof of the tower up to the closed door of the airship. The prisoners could be inside there, Emilie thought.

  There were no windows in the top of the tower, but there were big trees along the ridge of the valley; and the bottom of the cabin, and the metal catwalk, were just above their heavy branches. It looked like a possibility to Emilie. Maybe the only possibility. The plank bridge suggested that there must be a trap door in the roof to allow access to the airship. But surely that door would be guarded too. Maybe not, if the prisoners are locked up in rooms inside the tower, she thought.

  Emilie settled back into the ferns to think about it, knowing this was no time to act rashly. And that she had a few hours left until the next eclipse, so she might as well spend it resting, spying, and trying to think of a less mad plan.

  But by the time the eclipse fell, she was fairly certain a mad plan was the best way to go.

  Sometime after darkness fell, Emilie crouched on the edge of the valley, in the stand of big trees that overhung the airship, impatiently waiting for someone to notice her distraction.

  The Nomads had lit their encampment with lamps made from big curving shells, burning fish oil. The lamps lit the paths between the buildings and the pools, but the light didn't quite reach the airship, which was now just a big shape in the dark. While that would prove helpful, Emilie was afraid it was too dark to see her distraction.

  Maybe I should just go ahead, she thought. She chewed her lower lip, considering it. The problem was, she wasn't sure she could do this at all, let alone do it in complete silence. But you can't just sit here, she thought in frustration. She couldn't come this close and stop.

  Then below, a merperson came running from the opposite end of the compound, calling out to the others, pointing back over his shoulder. Emilie sat up, relieved. Finally.

  Earlier, as the eclipse had been about to descend, she had crept around to the opposite end of the valley from the airship, and heaped up a big pile of dead brush and fallen palm fronds. The wood was green and damp, so setting it on fire had taken most of the Cirathi matches that Emilie had tucked into her pocket. But it had finally started to smolder and then burn.

  She still couldn't see the smoke, but a moment later the breeze brought her the scent of it, which must have alerted the merpeople. Many of them ran toward that end of the compound, calling out to each other. Several dived into one of the pools, disappearing under the surface, presumably to carry the word or get reinforcements. The three men who were guarding the door of the tower moved away from the open doorway, facing down the valley, trying to see what was happening.

  Emilie took a sharp breath; she had hoped they would leave, but had known that was a little much to expect. All right, here goes, she thought, and stood and turned to the tree she had picked out.

  She started to climb, gritting her teeth as the ridges around the trunk dug into her fingers and toes. This tree was older and pointier than the one she had climbed earlier, but the trunk was also bigger around, giving her more room to climb. It was so dark she couldn't see her hands on the trunk, and the merpeople were all still occupied trying to decide if the fire meant an attack by the Queen's forces. But it was still a relief when she reached the shelter of the screen of drooping palm leaves.

  Emilie was sweating by the time she reached the gentle bend where the trunk broke up into individual branches, extending in curves out toward the airship. She shook the sweat out of her eyes and peered ahead. So far, so good. The balloon and the cabin now blocked her view of the tower and the guards, but also their potential view of her.

  She gripped the trunk with her legs and scooted awkwardly forward, out onto the highest branch. She climbed along it, closer and closer to the dark bulk of the airship. The branch was getting more slender, and Emilie winced when it creaked under her. She tried to tell herself it wasn't as bad as climbing out the prison window, but she wasn't so sure. Those ledges seemed quite wide and safe compared to this tree. She couldn't think what was worse, falling and dying or falling and breaking a leg or an arm or both, and being at the Nomads' mercy. Neither, she thought, please let it be neither.

  She edged further and further forward, until finally the airship's catwalk was just above her. About five feet above her. Hell, it didn't look that far from across the valley. Emilie tried to ease up slowly, felt herself start to slip, and dropped back to grip the branch tightly. She held back a sob of terror. This won't work, she thought, feeling the branch sway beneath her. It had to work. She couldn't go back.

  She looked up again. She couldn't do it slowly, so she would have to do it fast. She pushed herself up into a crouch without letting go with her hands. Then she braced herself, and shoved upright in one quick motion, making a wild grab.

  Her right hand brushed metal, she gripped the slim post of a railing, just as her feet slipped off the branch. She hung for a moment, her arm straining, then found the edge of the catwalk with her other hand. She hauled herself up as far as she could, her heart pounding with the effort, then managed to pull a leg up and hook her foot onto a supporting strut for the catwalk. Pushing from there let her drag her weight up onto the metal walkway. She huddled for a moment, breathing hard, astonished to be still alive. That was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, Emilie thought, and scrubbed sweat off her forehead.

  She eased to her feet, gripping the railing because her legs were still shaking. She felt the airship move slightly under her, pushed by the wind. She realized belatedly that it might have moved when she had been hanging off the railing, but it was far too big to tip or shudder with her weight. If the Nomads had noticed anything, they would think it was just the wind.

  Emilie crept around the catwalk, stopping to peer into the darkened windows, but she couldn't make out anything inside. As she came around the bow of the cabin, she had a good view of the compound, while still being in the shadows above the reach of their lamps. There was still activity at the far end, toward where she had set the fire. She bet the darkness in the woods was helping her; the fire had been slowly smoldering rather than burning brightly. The Nomads were probably having trouble locating it. The three door guards were still looking off that way, and there weren't any other merpeople around, at least that she could see.

  Keeping her steps as quiet as possible, Emilie moved along the catwalk down the airship's side, to the narrow plank bridge that led from it down to the round roof of the tower. Ha, I was right. There was a round opening in the roof, dimly illuminated by a light somewhere inside. It would have been disappointing, to say the least, to discover that there was no way inside the tower from here and that they had reached the airship with ladders up the outside or some other unusable method.

  Emilie reached the catwalk and started across, moving slowly to keep the light wood from creaking. It was too dark to see the ground below her, and the bulk of the tower blocked her view of the guards.

  She stepped down onto the smooth material of the roof, reflecting that the good thing about this stone was that it didn't creak. No one below would hear her moving around up here. She went to the opening and cautiously peered down.

  All she could see at first was a white stone stairway with shallow steps, spiraling down the center of the tower. Emilie crouched on the edge and listened, but couldn't hear any movement or voices inside. She circled the opening, angling for a better view; she could see some bare floor in the room below, but that was all.

  Nervously, Emilie leaned down far enough to get a good look, ready to dart away if the room was occupied. But it was just an empty room, at least from this angle. She stepped cautiously down the stairs, until she could see the rest of the room. It was empty, except for an
old pile of ropes and nets in the corner. There was only one big room, too, no doorways.

  She kept going down, and repeated this process at the next opening in the floor, which led down into the room below. It was empty except for a few clay storage jars, and a bowl-shaped lamp hanging from a ceiling hook, providing the wan light. All right, this isn't good, Emilie thought, moving quietly down the stairs. This place wasn't big to start with and she was running out of room to discover prisoners. What if those men outside are just guarding the airship, she thought. What if the prisoners are all locked up in another building nearby? She suppressed a groan, and checked the compass quickly.

  The arrow now formed a circle. Emilie's brow furrowed. It wasn't doing that earlier. It looked like it meant for her to go down. All right, then.

  Emilie went down to the next opening, the one that looked down into the ground level. She lay flat on the floor, angling her head so she could see toward the open doorway that looked out into the compound. She couldn't see the guards from here... No, wait, there's one, Emilie thought. She could just see his leg and part of his back, as he was facing away from the door. She leaned down a little further for a peek at the room, and grimaced in disappointment. It was empty, too, bare of anything except a round medallion on the floor, a few steps from the end of the stairway, on the furthest side from the outer door. Emilie blinked. A medallion with a handle, and a bolt. That had to be it. There's an underground room. And it's locked from the outside.

  Emilie threw another look at what was visible of the guard, then ghosted silently down the stairs. At the bottom she stepped quickly to the trapdoor; the solid stairs blocked a little of the view from the doorway, but if anyone walked past... She knelt, slid the bolt back, and carefully pulled at the door. It lifted on slightly rusty metal hinges; it was heavy, and didn't creak.