Irris walked to the table and put the tray down. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, and I’m fine disobeying the Jedenvat, but … is it a good idea, after what happened in Rhylla? If you’re out in the open you’re vulnerable. Maybe you could start by releasing some statements?”
“No. No more statements. No more bits of paper. Mael can do that, but I’m not. If I stay hidden away I’m as bad as Harun,” Sorrow countered. “I’m going out there. We’re going out there.”
“Let’s write to my father,” Irris said. “I’ll make him see we have to. He can smooth things over with the Jedenvat.”
“You do that,” Sorrow said. “I’m going to take a bath. And put on some clothes.”
Irris finally smiled. “Thank the Graces. I didn’t know how to tell you, but you smell terrible.”
Sorrow threw a pillow at her as she passed.
Charon sent a bird back that afternoon, and the haste of it made Sorrow’s heart soar with hope until she saw the flicker of shock cross Irris’s face.
“He said no?” Sorrow guessed.
“He says it’s better for you to stay where you’re safe.”
Sorrow swallowed and looked away, tears pricking at her eyes. How could he deny her this?
“To hell with it.” Irris screwed up the piece of paper and dropped it to the floor, kicking it to Sorrow. It bumped against her foot, and she looked over at her friend.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re right. You need to get out there. It’s the only way. Besides, you’re eighteen. You’re not a child. And neither am I. So let’s do it.”
Sorrow stared at her, trying to contain the hope that had flared once more. “Irris, it’s one thing for me to rebel, but he’s your father…”
“And he’s wrong. This is your life, Row.” She paused. “For Rhannon?”
“For Rhannon.”
They spent the afternoon drawing up a list between them of all the places they could think of to meet the people: faculties at the universities, unions, guilds, schools and hospitals. Then they split the list, penning letter after letter to the heads and leaders, asking when would be a good time for Candidate Ventaxis to visit. They made sure never to say which candidate it was, relying on presumption to serve them.
And serve them it did.
The birds began to return the following morning, and kept coming. Invitations to address the law faculty at the Institute, the accounting faculty in Istevar, to visit the mason’s guild, the physician’s guild, and the miner’s union right there in the east, based at the stone mine.
“Where do we start?” Sorrow asked. “One of the guilds? They’re influential. Or the universities?”
“The miners,” Irris said. “Start with the people. Write to them now. We can go this afternoon, at the shift changeover.”
When the weather broke that afternoon and the storms paused, they took it as an excellent sign. Right up until the moment the guard stationed on the main door of the manse raised his spear as Sorrow and Irris approached.
“We need a coach,” Sorrow said. “Now, please.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to leave, Miss Ventaxis. I’m sorry.” In his defence, the guard barring her way did look sorry, but Sorrow didn’t care.
“Can’t allow me?” She met his gaze with her own steady one. “Why not?”
“The vice chancellor’s orders, miss. For your safety.”
“So I’m a prisoner?”
“No, miss.”
“If I’m not a prisoner, I can leave.” Sorrow took another step and the guard raised his spear a little higher. “Get out of my—”
“Am I a prisoner too?” Irris moved forward, resting a hand on Sorrow’s shoulder in warning.
“No one is a prisoner, Lady Day. Miss Ventaxis is being guarded for her own safety.”
“And it’s you who is charged with keeping her safe?” Irris said.
“That’s right, my lady.”
“Then you can come with us. Bring some friends. There’s no point in arguing.” She held up a finger to silence any protest the guard had been about to make. “Your job is to guard Miss Ventaxis, and so you will. Wherever she goes. And you know Miss Ventaxis is running for the chancellorship. I would have thought remaining on her good side might be a priority.”
The guard swallowed.
“So I suggest you gather together four or five of your most trusted fellows, and meet us back here in ten minutes. I’ll order a coach.” Irris spoke with the authority of someone used to representing a district on the Jedenvat, of someone accustomed to being heard, and obeyed. The guard’s resistance crumbled, and he nodded, turning on his heel and walking away. He looked back twice, and Sorrow didn’t know if it was to check they were truly waiting, or because he was preparing to disobey, but in the end he disappeared around a corner. They waited in silence, and after ten minutes he returned with four other soldiers, all of whom seemed bewildered.
“Let me handle this,” Irris said under her breath, and Sorrow gave a swift, discreet nod. “Excellent,” Irris said firmly as the men approached, not giving them time to speak. “Now, because this visit is impromptu, and in the open, we don’t anticipate any attempts to harm Miss Ventaxis, as no one knows where we’re going; however, that doesn’t mean you can relax. Two of you will sit in the coach with us, two of you will accompany the driver, and the last of you can sit on the roof.”
“Where are we going?” the first soldier asked.
“To the mines. Miss Ventaxis is going to address the miners. We should be back here in good time for supper.”
Irris turned on her heel and opened the door, and Sorrow quickly followed, leaving the men scrambling in their wake.
They arrived at the mines an hour later, the coach arriving into the grounds near the main building, Sorrow’s stomach churning. She made for the door the moment the coach rolled to a halt, only for the soldier to bar her way, peering out of the window before he slipped through the door. A moment later he opened it, and nodded at her.
The courtyard was teeming with men, some covered in thick white dust from the mines, some clean before they started their shift, and they all turned as one to Sorrow as she stepped out of the coach. She faltered then, under their scrutiny, but most of them lost interest in her within seconds, and carried on with what they were doing.
“We need to find a foreman.” Irris appeared beside her.
“And do what?”
“Ask if you can go down and see the mine.”
Sorrow paused. “I thought I was going to do a speech to the union.”
“Do you have a speech?”
Sorrow shook her head.
“Well, then.”
“What am I supposed to do down there?”
“Watch. Learn. Talk. Be.”
“Can I help you?” Sorrow didn’t need to find a foreman; one had found her, and he didn’t look too happy with his discovery. He drew himself up to his full height, bringing him eye level with Sorrow. “This facility isn’t open to the public.”
“Hello, I’m Sorrow Ventaxis.” She held out a hand, and the man reluctantly shook it. “We wrote, saying we’d like to visit, and find out a little more about how I can help you and your men when I’m chancellor.”
“We thought you were your brother,” the foreman said bluntly.
“I hope you can see now that you were mistaken,” Sorrow joked. The foreman didn’t smile. “So,” she continued. “What I’d really like to do is see the mine.”
“You want to see the mine?”
“Yes,” Sorrow lied. “I’ve spent my entire life in Rhannish buildings made of Rhannish bricks. I want to see where it comes from, and meet the men who raise it.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible.” The foreman scratched his ear, frowning. “We’re not set up for visitors.”
“I don’t want a tour,” Sorrow improvised. “I want to go down into the mine and see it in action. Maybe have a go myself.”
“You
want to—”
“I really do.” Sorrow cut him off. “So, do I need any protective gear?”
A bark of something like laughter from behind her made her turn.
A man in dusty white overalls was watching her. “How fond are you of that get-up?” He nodded at her outfit.
“Not at all.” Irris had told her to dress plainly and she had, in a pale grey tunic and trousers.
“It’s cold down there,” he said, looking at her bare arms.
“I’ll be fine.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll take her down,” he told the foreman. “I owe Yaris another cycle for last week. She can come with me, and I’ll bring her back up after.” The foreman considered it for a moment, and Sorrow could sense Irris getting ready to argue with him. But then he shrugged and walked away, leaving Sorrow, Irris, her soldiers and the miner, looking at each other.
“How long is a cycle?” Irris asked.
“Two and a quarter hours.”
Irris looked at Sorrow, who shrugged. She could manage that, she was sure.
“Excellent,” Sorrow said. “Ready when you are.”
“Us too?” the soldier Sorrow had nominated as leader said, his worry evident in his creased forehead.
“One of you at least ought to,” Sorrow said. Part of her wanted to force him to accompany her in revenge for barring her way earlier. She could tell, from the sweat on his upper lip, that the prospect of going underground frightened him. “Decide among yourselves.” She fought her inner meanness.
“I don’t mind. My father was a miner,” one of them announced.
“Then let’s go,” the miner said. “I’m on the clock.”
“What can I call you?” Sorrow said, falling into step with him as he walked away, the solider trailing after them.
“Mael,” he said.
Sorrow blinked. “How old are you?”
“Eighteen. Same as you.”
From both his appearance and his manner, Sorrow would have guessed he was at least ten years older. To cover her surprise, she continued talking. “So you were named for him?”
“Me and half the mine.” He paused. “They call me Braith. It’s my surname. You can use it too. Mind your head,” he warned her as they entered a tunnel.
The air was much cooler inside, and Sorrow regretted her bare arms. Braith led them down the tunnel, Sorrow turning sideways to counter the steepness of the incline, until they arrived at the bottom to a set of metal double doors. Sorrow was puzzled by what she would have sworn was birdsong coming from within, only to find, when Braith opened the door and urged her to enter, a shelf with a row of cages, each with a small yellow bird.
“Why do you have sun finches in here?” she asked.
“The air can be funny below. Sun finches are more sensitive to gases than we are. So we take birds down, and if they stop singing, or fall from their perches, we know it’s time to go.”
Sorrow didn’t know if he was joking or not, until he reached up and took one of the cages.
“You can carry it, once you’re kitted out.” He put the cage down and crossed to a cupboard, pulling out a firm hat and a coat, passing them to her. He gave another hat to the soldier, and slipped one on to his own head.
“It won’t save you if there’s a cave-in, but some of the ceilings are low and it’ll stop you getting a nasty bump,” he explained as Sorrow pulled the coat on and placed the hat on her head.
She paused and exchanged a worried glance with the soldier. “Is there likely to be a cave-in?”
“Miss, it’s not like the moonrise. It happens when it happens. If we knew, we wouldn’t go down, would we? Right, grab your bird and let’s get to the cage.” He nodded at a second pair of doors, set back in the wall.
“The cage?” Sorrow asked.
“You’ll see.”
In the darkness of the room his teeth glowed ghostly white, and Sorrow shivered, knowing full well it wasn’t because of the chill.
As Below, So Above
The cage was every bit as horrible as it sounded. Suspended on a thick chain, and operated by a team of four, it was designed to lower between thirty and fifty men at a time down to the underground reserves of the white stone mined for construction in Rhannon. Once, the stone had been closer to the surface, but demand sent the miners deeper into the bowels of Laethea for it, and it was there that Sorrow was to go to see them at work.
The cage wasn’t meant to transport so few people at a time, and it swung precariously when Sorrow entered, forcing her to cling to the bars and the poor bird to go wild in its own cage, flapping its wings until yellow feathers showered the floor. Braith entered and slammed the door shut, frightening the bird again. He gave Sorrow a look as if to tell her to control it, then nodded to the operators. They each took hold of a large bar attached to a wheel, and slowly began to push. As they did, the cage jerkily descended, and Sorrow heard the soldier who was accompanying them whimper above the twittering of the bird. She didn’t blame him. Even Braith looked uneasy, fiddling with the lamp he’d brought, his face watchful as they lowered.
Her treacherous mind turned to Luvian then, imagining him here. His pompadour hair flattened by the helmet, dust on his pristine suit. She could see the way his upper lip would curl, hear the sarcastic quip that would both amuse and infuriate her.
Or was that all part of the persona he’d worn to trick her? she reminded herself, stopping the smile in its tracks. For all she really knew of him, he was like the guard with her, born to a family of miners.
It couldn’t have taken more than ten minutes, but to Sorrow it felt like for ever. She saw the layers of the rocks in the lamplight as they passed, the rainbow of colours in them, saw long-legged insects skittering over the surfaces away from the light, chased by pure white lizards that Braith told her gleefully had no eyes. Finally, the cage hit the ground, and Sorrow stumbled, banging her hip against the side as she tried to keep the bird in her arms. Braith pulled the door back, and all of them left the cage on shaking legs.
He led Sorrow and the soldier down a long tunnel lit at intervals by more lamps. Sorrow had expected it to be damp, but the air was clear, and clean, and the bird seemed happy enough, launching into song. She followed the miner towards the sound of metal against stone, and they entered a medium-sized cavern, where a group of twenty or so miners were busy hacking away at the glowing white rock in the walls. Five large columns of stone had been left, and Sorrow could see where a sixth was being formed by four large men carefully scraping at the rock there instead of hacking.
There were other birds down there too, dotted around in all the corners, and when Braith nodded to an empty one Sorrow carried the small cage over to a wooden crate and left the bird on it, its song mingling with that of the others.
She rejoined Braith and the soldier at a large drum full of pickaxes, taking one when it was offered and following him to a patch of wall where five other men were already working. They turned as one and looked Sorrow up and down. None of them looked impressed, and the largest of the men, towering a good foot over the next tallest, and thrice as wide as him too, went as far as to shake his head.
“Hello, I’m—”
“We know who you are,” the giant of a man said, swinging his axe and loosening a large chunk of white rock, which fell to the ground. He picked it up and dropped it in the metal bin behind them with a decisive clang, before returning and swinging the axe once more. “We don’t care.”
Sorrow waited to see if anyone else would speak, her cheeks heating, but when they didn’t she too began to hack at the rock.
Within five swings she realized she didn’t have the physical strength to keep it up for long. Already her hands felt hot from gripping the wooden handle of the axe, her shoulders beginning to ache. As if he could sense her discomfort, Braith turned to her.
“You can stop, if you like. I mean, this is it. This is what we do. Work for two hours, then a fifteen-minute break. Then back to it. Four cycles per day.”
“Too small,” he grunted, his own axe carving out a chunk three times the size of Sorrow’s head, which he hefted easily on to his shoulder, then into the bin.
“How is it too small?”
“No good.”
“Why not?”
The man paused, and wiped a layer of dusty sweat from his brow with a hand the size of a dinner plate. “Because I said not.”
Sorrow met his gaze. “I don’t accept that.” She picked up her small piece of rock and took it to the bin, making sure to meet his eye as she dropped it in. It didn’t make a sound, and her skin burned again as she waited for his response.
The man watched her, and the air between them became taut and brittle. The others around them had stilled, and the soldier moved closer to her, but the giant didn’t pay him any more attention than he would a fly, his stony gaze fixed on her, his expression betraying no hint of his intentions.
Then he shrugged, and the tension vanished as he turned back to his work. Sorrow’s heart was battering her ribs inside her chest, but all she did was take a deep breath and return to her part of the wall. She glanced at Braith and he gave her a brief nod of approval.
“How does the stone become homes and buildings?” Sorrow asked as she attacked the wall again.
“It’s ground down, and mixed with a binding paste, then baked, to form bricks,” Braith said, cutting out a medium-sized rock and carrying it to the bin. “The bricks are used for building.”
“So size doesn’t actually matter,” Sorrow said as she swung again and loosed another small piece.
The giant who’d decided she was his enemy stopped mid-swing, driving the handle of his axe into the ground and leaning on the curved iron top of it. “What do you want, little girl? Why are you really here?”
State of Sorrow Page 32
