Nigma (The Waifs of Duldred Book 3)

by Ana Salote

  ‘Now why didn’t anyone tell me about that and why don’t the Felluns fix it?’ said Yehvo.

  ‘It’s green,’ said Ferralee. ‘The Felluns can’t see it.’

  ‘It’s not a crack,’ said Gertie, ‘it’s a vein in the rock. There’s types of rock like crudium, moramor and skyvett which should never be used for building because they split along the veins. This is made from hymena. It will split but it needs encouragement.’

  ‘How much encouragement?’ said Yehvo.

  ‘Not a lot if you hit the right spot,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Hit it with what?’ said Ferralee.

  ‘Generally they use a hammer and wedge.’

  Yehvo looked high above the dam to her beloved yellow river.

  The dam held the river back in a huge reservoir. In front of it was a smaller lake. From there the water was channelled away from the gorge to the rivers and canals of Fellund. ‘Look how they’ve turned and tamed our birthright, Ferralee, just like they’ve turned and tamed our people. But the power and the beauty are still dammed inside us. You feel it I know. Wouldn’t you give your life to free it? I would.’

  Ferralee didn’t answer. They looked at the glassy green line running down the dam like a fine stream of water.

  ‘A hammer and a wedge,’ Yehvo pondered.

  ‘You’re surely not thinking of taking a hammer to that are you?’ Ferralee waved her hand at the dam.

  ‘We can find another quarry and get some more blasting powder if you prefer.’

  ‘What?! You said you’d given up on that fool idea.’

  ‘Did I?’

  ‘You said you wanted to see the river; you’ve seen it. Be content with that.’

  ‘But Ferralee, since we’re here what’s to lose?’

  ‘Gertie is talking about splitting a chunk of rock, not a wall the size of a cliff,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘You don’t know till you try. And Gertie believes in try, ain’t that right, Gert?’ said Yehvo.

  ‘Mostly,’ said Gertie, but her voice rose as though it was a question.

  Yehvo argued that dams were just extreme examples of rocks and could be treated in the same way as regards splitting. Ferralee sat shaking her head. Yehvo said that small loaves were made from the same ingredients as big, and you could build a hovel or a fort by putting one stone on top of another, and wings would carry an eagle just as well as a fly, and... She went on giving examples of big and small things behaving the same way.

  ‘Save your breath,’ said Ferralee. ‘Quantities of words don’t make a thing true.’

  ‘We’ll see,’ said Yehvo confidently.

  She waited till dark. The guards lit a fire outside the tower. Their outlines could be seen as they moved around it. ‘Where there’s fire there’s wood,’ she said, ‘and where there’s firewood there’s most likely a hammer and a splitting wedge.’ She disappeared into the darkness.

  Ferralee muttered insults, pulled a blanket around her and slept. Gertie waited anxiously. It was a long time before Yehvo reappeared. She had found a woodpile and tripped over an axe. A guard came out with a lamp but he did not see her. The lamplight had revealed the tools she wanted. She woke Ferralee to show her a pair of wedges and a Fellun-sized mallet. Ferralee looked at them in disgust and went back to sleep.

  Next day Yehvo and Gertie went down the steps to take a closer look at the seam.

  They were in full view of the watchtower but the Felluns were unlikely to see them in their dull green clothes. The wall of the dam was smooth except for the carved letters, CARNOFFA. The seam passed through the O. Gritty sat on the steps and did some drawings and calculations. Yehvo stood beside her. Gritty rested the pen on her lower lip then scribbled some more.

  ‘Can it be done?’ said Yehvo.

  ‘I think the Arcann meant it to be done; else why use a splitting rock like hymena?’

  ‘That is what I call far-sighted,’ said Yehvo. ‘And the splitting, can it be done with a hammer?’

  ‘I thought not to begin with. I started with very big numbers but they ended up small.’ Gertie showed Yehvo her workings. ‘So maybe a small force will do it. The wedge needs to go in where the vein cuts the top of the O.’

  Yehvo was leaping up the steps. ‘Come on. Tell all that to Ferralee.’

  Gertie told her.

  ‘Do you know how silly you sound?’ said Ferralee.

  ‘But you know all about balance,’ said Gertie. ‘The difference between balanced and unbalanced can be tiny can’t it?’

  ‘Even so – look at it.’ She waved her arm at the dam and picked up the hammer. ‘You want to smash that with this.’

  ‘No,’ said Yehvo. ‘I want you to smash that with this.’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Ferralee. ‘I’m done with your mad schemes.’

  ‘Then I’ll do it myself,’ said Yehvo. ‘We need rope.’ She scanned the top of the dam. ‘There’s nothing to fix the rope on so we’ll have to tie it round you, Gert.’

  ‘You don’t have any rope,’ said Ferralee, ‘and if you did I wouldn’t trust her to hold it.’

  ‘Then I’ll climb down without a rope.’

  ‘There’s nothing to hold on to,’ said Gertie. ‘That wall’s as smooth as a china pot.’

  Ferralee looked up and narrowed her eyes.

  ‘No it isn’t,’ said Yehvo. ‘You see them don’t you, Ferralee. Above the F, there’s bumps.’

  ‘Never,’ said Gertie. ‘They’re no more than shadows.’

  ‘If I have to stand on shadows that’s what I’ll do,’ said Yehvo.

  ‘Yehvo, it ain’t possible,’ said Gertie.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Ferralee snapped. ‘I’m done with this. Give me the bag. I’ll show you that it can’t work. Then we can all go back to our lives.’

  Ferralee slung the bag over her shoulder and ran straight out onto the wall of the dam. She climbed down to the giant F without faltering, using the slightest of bumps and depressions.’

  ‘There’s not another body in the world could have done that,’ said Yehvo.

  ‘If it works she’ll die won’t she?’ said Gertie. ‘Oh, Lor, she’s too alive to die.’

  ‘I have felt the strength in her hands,’ said Yehvo. ‘I’ve never felt such power in man, woman or animal. If anybody can survive this it’s her.’

  Ferralee stood on the deep grooves of the F. They watched as she felt with her fingers where the seam crossed the carved O. Then she took the wedge from her bag and jammed it in the rock.

  ‘It looks like there was a crack there already,’ said Gertie.

  Ferralee knocked the wedge with the heel of her hand and reached for the hammer. She eased her body back and managed to tap the end of the wedge three times.

  ‘It’s holding,’ said Yehvo.

  Ferralee brought the hammer back behind her head and struck. She struck hard. The sound bounced around the gorge. She struck again unleashing even more force.

  ‘She meant that,’ said Yehvo. ‘Come on my brave one. Believe! One more.’

  Ferralee struck again. The cracking sound was deep and startling. The echoes rattled around the dam. Ferralee turned her face to Yehvo and Gertie and raised her arm with a look of grim triumph. Then she pushed herself off the rock and fell in all her wild beauty. Her body shaped into a perfect dive and she disappeared into the shallows.

  Next came sounds of strain and grinding. The wall slackened. Invisible joins appeared. Along the seam one side sheared away from the other. Then total collapse, a deafening rumble, stone rain, a hole where there was structure, free water pouring through. Madness and a new equilibrium, air shining with spray. Gertie and Yehvo felt the ground shake. They held onto each other in shock and exultation. Droplets ran down the furrows of Yehvo’s face as the yellow river poured through the gap. ‘There she goes,’ she said, ‘the Cheelah’s going home.’

  18 Drowning

  Bominata was waiting to get into the Red Cave. The Chee miners were taking too long. Any interval between wantin
g and getting made her angry.

  It was Meccanee’s job to calm her. ‘Not much longer, your Density. They’ve got the best men on the job. If there’s any weakness they’ll find it. Very experienced they are.’ She spoke above a steady patter of blows. ‘They’ve got the hang of it now. Striking at an angle. That’s better. There’s bits flying. Ooh, that’s a big one. Did you hear that crack, Fellona? A great flake came away. There’s another, even bigger. It’s opening up. Not much more and... that’s it. They’re tidying up the edges and they’ll be ready for you. They’ve gone in with the lamps. You can go in now. Let me put your mat down.’

  Meccanee unrolled some red cloth and spread it on the ground. Bominata bustled forward eagerly. The gap would still be a squeeze. The men discussed how to get her through. ‘Which way is she widest?’ they asked Meccanee. Meccanee shushed them and told them that she was just as wide all ways. Bominata refused to wait any longer. She insisted that the gap was big enough. Rigaw agreed. He hoped that she would remain stuck there forever. At worst he had a chance to push her violently. The miners pulled her from one side and Rigaw pushed from the other. Bominata cried out in pain but she urged them to try harder. At last she was through though her dress was in shreds. Rigaw followed. The cave was well lit with lamps and candles. Both of them were impressed. Bominata could see everything and see it well. Her sausage hands and feet expressed her excitement. Her digits waved and quivered. ‘I want it,’ she said. ‘I want the fort lined with it. What is this nonsense about too hard to cut? Give me a pick.’

  Rigaw stretched his hand out for the tool. ‘I’ll give it to you,’ he said. He aimed the pick at Bominata’s neck.

  Meccanee acted out of instinct. She pushed Bominata so that the pick went beneath her arm and not into the soft part of her throat.

  ‘Would you?’ Bominata screeched into Rigaw’s face. ‘Guards.’ The guards were briefed by Rigaw. They did not move. She screamed every curse she could think of and made up some new ones of her own. The guards began to advance on her. She lunged for the exit and dragged herself through it.

  Once outside they could not hold her. She swung all her weight behind her fist and smashed one man’s eye socket then she barged at Rigaw. She carried him backwards for some distance crunching him against the cliff wall. She had her arms around his waist. He hung over her shoulders. She was clamped tight and they moved in a dance of hatred. Rigaw pulled his knife from his thigh strap. He plunged it into her back. The knife broke. She was plated everywhere thicker than horn. Now she pushed in the other direction taking him over the edge of the platform. Meccanee, the miners and the guards watched. None of them cared much about queen or consort. The couple slid together landing on a wider ledge below. Bominata’s eye patch had slipped covering her good eye. Rigaw mocked her. ‘Before I kill you, my queen, I want you to know that Guerm has agreed to husbind me. Guerm will be the new Fellona before the day is out. She has always favoured me. She has promised she will make no ridiculous demands. She will respect me and...’

  ‘Guerm! Guerm! She’s no Fellona. Soft as cake she is. Repulsive. She will give under your hands. How can you even think...’

  ‘I can think of her. I like to think of her. I hate you.’

  ‘I hate you more.’

  ‘I have always hated you.’

  ‘You can’t hate me more than I hate you.’

  A wind was coming down the gorge. It smelled of stone and weed. The guards were fixed on the fight and did not hear the rumble. The miners were attuned to the sound of rock falls; they looked around and above them. There was no avalanche. Far along the gorge what looked like a monstrous dust cloud raced towards them. Thought was barely fast enough to register it as water. They began to climb. The water hit. The high river with rock and tree boiling in it surged around the guards. Many of them lost their footing and fell. Rigaw and Bominata were washed to the edge of the ledge. A second wave took them off and down. They were gone.

  The Cheelah flowed with unstoppable power. It lifted the hearts of the miners clean out of their chests. They praised the skies, wept and embraced.

  Soon the rim of the gorge was lined with Chee whooping and hollering. The Felluns stared numbly. Fast as water the news travelled that Bominata and Rigaw were lost in the flood. The Chee story was that the pair were so angry they continued to fight in the river, shouting water bubbles at each other till anger turned to panic, and waving and kicking they sank rapidly together.

  19 E for Exiles

  The Glumaws were back to front but the peaks were still recognisable. It was odd to see them looking so small and distant, like returning to a childhood haunt and finding that everything had shrunk. It was strange that Nondula and Fellund were so close yet they were sealed like a dream behind the storm wall. For the next few days the minds of the four friends were free to wander backwards and forwards in time. There was no need to be watchful; no one was chasing them. The waifs realised how much they had changed since leaving Affland. They looked and thought differently.

  They reached the Glumaws. The slopes on the northern side were gradual and the forests had not been thinned by loggers. They climbed above the snowline and back down the other side. The air was wonderfully clean and cold. As they descended they saw the tracks of dog sleds. They saw a moonbur caught in a trap. Its eyes were frosted shut and blood stained the snow around its snapped leg. Alas removed it from the iron teeth. ‘That will feed us tonight,’ he said. Lil looked disgusted. ‘Some of us,’ he said. After that they trod carefully in case there were more traps hidden in the snow. Next evening they saw the dark blocks of the trapper camp and the fenced dog pounds. A plantation of pines ran along one side. The waifs’ supplies were unlikely to last till they got off the mountain. They debated whether to steal from the trappers or risk trading with them.

  ‘I don’t think trappers would be interested in trading for beads,’ said Gritty, ‘though they might for bones.’

  ‘I’d like to hold onto the bones if we can,’ said Alas. ‘We’ll get a better price in the markets.’

  ‘We needn’t fear them taking us for Porians now,’ said Gritty. ‘We’ve grown too much. Alas, since you’re getting near man-sized, go down and say you lost your way in a snowstorm and need food to see you back to the road.’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that,’ said a voice behind them.

  Two figures came out from behind a snow bank. They were dressed in furs. Their hats were low and their collars high so only eyes and noses could be seen. The eyes and noses were familiar.

  ‘Kurt?’ said Alas.

  ‘Bram!’ said Oy.

  The furry figures waded towards them. Kurt held Alas by the shoulders and apologised to him. ‘You were right all along. I think I knew it before I even got in the cart.’

  ‘You survived. That’s all that matters,’ said Alas.

  Gritty laughed. ‘You did better than survive. You were left to die with a crust, a knife and a vest, and now look at you: grown three oggits and dressed like a lawyer in winter.’

  Lil was introduced. Kurt and Bram stared at her for too long and she walked away in a huff leaving Gritty to explain Dresh moods and manners. There was some talk about who had grown the most, then Bram invited everyone back to the icehouse to eat, drink and share their stories in comfort. Oy went to fetch Lil but Lil didn’t want to be fetched. She was drawn to the rocks below the snowline. She wanted to be alone and would wait there till morning. Oy said he understood and waved her off.

  Bram and Kurt showed off their fur-lined icehouse. The waifs sat on deep layers of pelts. Gritty snuggled down pulling furs up around her. Bram showed off the pelts: the blue tipped ears of the snowrab, the silvery sheen of the moonbur, the steely gallomouse.

  Oy seemed troubled. ‘They must be cold without their coats,’ he said.

  ‘Oy, the animals have to die so’s we can eat and keep warm,’ said Kurt.

  ‘I know,’ said Oy. ‘Only I wish they didn’t.’

  ‘It’s the only way to survi
ve out here. We get to the traps before the trappers, take the catch and reset the traps. I take these beauties down to Crust for trading. We live pretty well don’t we, Bram?’

  ‘Well enough,’ said Bram.

  ‘How did you find Kurt?’ said Oy.

  ‘After you got away I wanted to do something to help the others,’ said Bram. ‘All the sewers in and out of Duldred were gated the day after you went – same at the factory. There was no repeating that trick. Then I got to thinking about Kurt. Was it too late for him?’

  ‘Never write off a Porian,’ said Gritty.

  ‘I nearly wrote myself off,’ said Kurt. ‘I was done for when this fella comes along. I heard whistling – thought it was a dream, or ice crystals tinkling in my brain. Up he puffs, blowing steam, cheerful as you like. Struck a fire on the spot and brung me back from the dead. He took me back with him and we planned another expedition to see if anyone else had survived up here. We found signs near the trapper’s camp but nowhere else.’

  ‘Waif inspections have tightened in Crust,’ said Bram. ‘Officials come for the leavers and go with ’em to the boats. Everything has to be open and in daylight and all the paperwork triple stamped. Now we watch for rafts coming in. If there’s no catchers waiting we get the waifs away, show them the best places to hide, how to stay free and survive. We plan to build a settlement on the far side of the mountains. It takes the brunt of the storms – too harsh for Afflish, but not for us, eh Kurt?’

  ‘I like it,’ said Alas, grinning. ‘I like it a lot.’

  ‘What’re your plans?’ said Bram.

  ‘Depends. Do you know what happened to the others?’

  ‘Your friends at Duldred? They’ve been moved to the factory. The court case is dragging on. It’s said the only thing that will end it is when they all run out of money. There’s not much you can do. Why not stay here with us?’

  ‘I want to see for myself,’ said Alas, ‘and Oy has a job to do.’

  Alas, Gritty and Oy took turns to tell their story. It was dark before they finished.