The Crystal Heart

by Sophie Masson

  I also heard that they were only looking for fifty workers today, and there must have been at least two hundred and fifty there, by my reckoning. The odds were not looking good for me. All I had going for me was my youth and my big frame. But I was nowhere near the only one with those characteristics. I could not afford to wait till the next muster of men. I wondered if there was a way I could ensure I caught the eye of the recruiter. But I was wary that if I drew too much attention to myself, it would give the wrong impression and I’d be seen as a troublemaker.

  Presently, the tower clock in the main square struck six. At that precise moment, the door of the mines office opened and out came the clerk I’d seen yesterday, holding a large clipboard folder. Beside him stood a tall, thin man dressed all in grey. His hair was grey too, his eyes of a strange shade of violet. As soon as I laid eyes on him, I knew he was feyin. I hadn’t expected that, though it made sense. If the feyin were to let humans work in their mines, they’d want to be sure that it was one of their own who vetted them.

  ‘Form orderly rows, men,’ said the clerk in a loud voice. There was some jostling and shoving as everyone got into position. The feyin recruiter stood perfectly still, his eyes flitting from one man to the next, sizing them all up. As soon as everybody was settled, the clerk called for silence and the recruiter walked up and down the rows, looking closely at each man. He spoke not a word. When he came to one he wanted, he’d nod, and the clerk would tell the man to step out of the ranks. More and more men stepped out, and the recruiter walked past me without a sign of interest.

  I tried to keep calm. I shoved my shaking hands into my pockets, hoping that would still them. I grasped onto the crystal shard in my pocket. And then a strange thing happened. The recruiter’s head turned sharply. He left the row he’d been inspecting and immediately came to my side. Hurriedly, I took my hands out of my pockets and stood there facing him. For a brief instant he looked at me, the cold violet gaze piercing through me. Then he gave a slight nod and moved along.

  ‘Vazily Adamak, step out,’ the clerk called out. ‘You have been chosen for today’s intake!’

  What had just happened? I had a wild idea that my selection was somehow connected to my grasping of the crystal. But exactly how, I could not even begin to work out. If he had indeed sensed I had a feyin object about me, why had he not challenged me on it and demanded to see it? I’d heard it said that feyin have senses sharper than ours and that they possess an extra sense that enables them to see much more than we can. Some superstitious people even believe feyin can read our thoughts. I didn’t believe that. For if that feyin had really been capable of reading mine, I’d not be on my way to the mines, but on the high road back to prison – or the gallows.

  But that did not mean he did not sense something about me. I resolved to be careful to not draw any more feyin attention. My thoughts were interrupted by the clerk calling out in a loud voice, ‘All right, that’s it for today!’ A loud chorus of groans came from the unsuccessful applicants. Waving a hand at them as though they were pesky flies, the clerk turned back to us and said, ‘Those of you who have been chosen, come into the office to fill in the required forms. Make sure you have all your documents ready.’

  That started a jostle to the office, and as I moved up the line with the rest of them, I was glad to see that the feyin recruiter took no more part in the proceedings. Duly getting my papers stamped without any trouble, I headed off to the station to wait for the train to the mines. There, I locked myself in the station lavatory and quickly pulled down my right sock. I slipped the crystal shard inside it, then folded it down and sewed the edges of the fold together. Replacing the needle in its case, I couldn’t help a small tremor as I looked at the needle beside it, so identically harmless in appearance but with that deadly secret concealed within it …

  Poison – a woman’s weapon, so they say. Or a spy’s. The weapon of the weak, of the underhand, of the sneaky, of the wicked ones who hide the black heart of an enemy behind the smiling mask of the friend. It sat ill with me to have to use it. But I was a hired assassin who must do as he was told. If I did not want my family to suffer more than they already had, I must follow my instructions to the letter. Squeamishness was not something I could afford.

  The train to the mines arrived. It was an impressive sight, with its two locomotives – one at the front, one at the back. It had many wagons – a smart-looking one at the head for the feyin recruiter and two human overseers, a second-class one crammed with mine workers, including me, two wooden-slatted wagons for the mine ponies, and several open wagons loaded with tools and heavy equipment. At precisely eleven o’clock, we left Katena with a triumphantly loud blast of its whistle, drawing majestically out of the station and past the waving, shouting crowds on the station.

  After two uneventful hours, much of which I spent dozing, the train blew its whistle and drew to a stop. I looked out of the window. We had arrived at a station labelled ‘Mine Works’, the end of the line. Although I saw that another track branched off, heading towards a tunnel that was set in the hump of a grey stony hill, just visible in the distance.

  ‘It’s the entrance to the mine,’ one of the other men told me. He looked to be in his late thirties or so and had been working in the mines since last year. Pointing at the wagons filled with salt blocks that were trundling up and down this track, he explained, ‘That load was mined yesterday and it will be transported to Katena. They’ve got it down to a pretty fine art.’

  ‘Seems like it,’ I said.

  ‘They don’t like wasting time here,’ he observed. ‘Long as you remember that, you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, as we jumped off the train.

  ‘No problems. You take care, and make friends. Best way to cope here,’ he said, but didn’t offer to become my friend. That was fine. I didn’t really need friends anyway. I wasn’t planning to be long in the mine.

  The surrounding landscape was not very attractive. It was flat, apart from that grey hill. There were only a few spindly trees, dusty roads, and barracks buildings of basic brick and wood scattered about. It was a busy scene, too, and not sinister at all. We were directed to the barracks buildings and allocated a room and a bunk, then given a uniform, which we were told to change into at once. For an awful moment I thought they would give us new footwear and socks, too, but they did not. I put my needle case in the uniform pocket.

  Next, we were ushered into a big hall to listen to a long speech about mine customs and safety, most of which seemed to consist of what not to do.

  ‘Don’t leave your work party,’ said the overseer, ‘and don’t take any side tunnels, or go alone into the mines. You lot are working in the salt mines – there are others mining opals on the other side of the mountain, but you’re unlikely to meet them. Whatever you do, don’t take any kind of meat into the mines – it attracts cave goblins and, take it from me, you really don’t want to attract those bloodthirsty little beasts. You’ll be fed lunch in the barracks, so there’s no need to take any food into the mines, though water is allowed. Don’t attempt to take anything from the mines. Stealing is punishable by immediate dismissal and prosecution.

  ‘Now listen, lads! If any feyin comes anywhere near your work detail on their way above ground, don’t look at them. They do not like being watched by humans. And don’t sing or whistle if they’re around, they dislike the pitch of our voices when we do this. Don’t try to go into the levels beyond the mine. This is an offence punishable by a lengthy prison term, if you’re lucky and are caught. If you’re not –’ and here the overseer smiled grimly – ‘you will never find your way back. You will wander till you die, or fall to your death – or worse still, be seized by the fearsome monster who lives in the bottomless depths of the Lake down below. The mines are beautiful but dangerous, and it’s as well you remember that.

  ‘This is a fair place to work. If you follow the orders of your unit foreman and your overseers, no harm will come to you. You will be well pa
id and well fed, and your families will be able to afford what you’ve always wanted for them. If you transgress the rules, then at best you will be sent home in disgrace, and at worst you will pay for it with your life. Is that all understood, gentlemen?’

  ‘Yes, sir!’ came the chorus from dozens of throats.

  ‘You will be entering an unfamiliar world, and the sooner you understand that, the better. Keep your wits about you, and you’ll come to no harm. Now, then – to business. We will put you in units of twenty-five and allocate jobs,’ said the overseer, and he started calling out names.

  People with skills – carpenters, plumbers, blacksmiths – were given specific jobs. Tomas Durak, a big burly fellow in his thirties, who had clearly worked here before, was appointed unit foreman. Those of us with no apparent skills were the general labourers. This suited me fine, as a man within a mass of ordinary labourers will be missed less quickly than a specialist worker.

  ‘And now,’ said the overseer, brightly, ‘you are all invited to a dinner in the mess hall, where you will meet your fellow toilers and no doubt learn a good deal more than you ever wanted to know about mining. Just remember,’ he added with a wink, ‘not everything you will hear is true!’

  ‘What did you think of all that?’ A voice from behind startled me. I turned to see a young man about my age, with a friendly open face and a grin that suddenly reminded me of my friend Franz, back on the island. But in prison I had got out of the habit of friendship. And I had no desire to take it up again, no matter what that miner had told me earlier.

  I shrugged.

  He looked a little crestfallen at my curt tone. ‘Have you been here before?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh.’ He paused then went on, tentatively. ‘My older brother Karel was here last year. He says that everything goes well if you keep your head.’

  ‘Not having a head would certainly be a problem,’ I said dryly.

  The stranger shot me a puzzled look, then laughed. ‘Oh, I see. Sorry. I can be a bit slow with jokes sometimes. My brother says I’m easy to trick.’

  ‘Brothers will exaggerate,’ I said, not wanting to be drawn into more talk.

  But it was a mistake, for he seemed to take it as a friendly gesture. ‘Oh, yes, you’re so right! Do you have brothers, too?’

  ‘Yes,’ I lied.

  ‘Older or younger?’

  ‘Both.’

  ‘Oh, just like me! Isn’t that strange?’

  ‘Very,’ I said, though my tone was lost on him.

  ‘They call me Amadey,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Vazily,’ I said, shaking his hand reluctantly. Perhaps it might do to befriend this Amadey. I might get him to cover for me. It wouldn’t be too hard to pull the wool over his eyes. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

  Amadey beamed. ‘Oh, as I am to meet you too, Vazily! It would be good to have a friend to share things with.’

  For the rest of the walk to the mess hall – and, indeed, the rest of the evening – I was spared the necessity of saying too much about myself by Amadey’s relentless stream of chatter. He spoke of his family, his friends, his home town, his favourite tavern and the various girls he had a fancy for. He was one of those kind but naive people who have had a happy life and never imagine life could be different for anyone else. And he would no doubt be horrified if he realised who I really was. But he was equally unlikely to guess I was hiding anything, and thus was the perfect ‘friend’.

  Once, I would have been ashamed of such thoughts. Once, I was a naive boy as trusting as Amadey. No more. I could not afford any soft feelings.

  Back in the dormitory after a plentiful, if plain, dinner, Amadey badgered the occupant of the bunk below me to swap with him. He was so pleased by the success of that little rebellion (for swapping was not encouraged) that he furtively brought out from his pack yet another miniature revolt, in the shape of a leather flask of home-brewed herb cordial.

  ‘It’s my grandmother’s famous recipe. She is something of a witch, you know,’ he said, smiling. ‘And when I was little, she scared me by saying that if I drank any of this, I’d be turned into a frog!’

  ‘Clearly you don’t believe that anymore,’ I said, as he took a swig and handed me the bottle. The cordial tasted strongly of mint and was quite refreshing.

  Amadey grinned. ‘You’re right there. But I wouldn’t mind if it turned me into a prince so I could lay the world at the feet of a beautiful girl someday. What about you?’

  I shrugged off the unexpected pang that went through me at his words. ‘Magic or no magic, I’ve no one to impress.’

  ‘No – I mean, what would you like it to turn you into?’

  ‘A cave goblin,’ I said, and couldn’t help laughing at the expression on Amadey’s face.

  ‘You’re a real joker,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘But it doesn’t do to joke about them! Karel told me one of his work unit was bitten by one of those creatures. Did you know their teeth are poisonous? That poor man lost his leg because it went bad from the bite.’

  ‘I thought cave goblins hardly ever ventured into the mines. Aren’t they only found in Night?’

  ‘No. Didn’t you hear the overseer? He said to bring no meat, because it attracts –’

  ‘Yes, but then he also said there was a mons –’ I stopped myself, thinking better of what I was about to say. ‘He also said there was a month in which you were paid twice.’

  Amadey’s eyes widened. ‘I didn’t hear that. He really said that?’

  I sighed. ‘No, he didn’t. I was just making another joke. Sorry.’

  ‘No need to be sorry. It’s good to be jolly,’ Amadey remarked, handing me the bottle again. To please him, I took another swig, and then he closed the cap of his flask again. ‘It’ll make our work go much better. Hey, do you think we’ll see any feyin?’

  ‘I have no idea.’

  ‘It’s strange, isn’t it?’

  I sighed. ‘What is?’

  ‘How we were at war with them, and now we’re not. My grandmother, who has met feyin, says they are changeable folk and not to be trusted. What do you think?’

  ‘I think your grandmother is a wise woman.’

  Amadey beamed. ‘Oh, that is so! But you know, despite that, I really would like to see a feyin in the flesh. I have seen them in books and in the newspaper, of course, like when the Prince of Night visited with his daughter and –’

  ‘Look, Amadey,’ I said, more sharply than I’d intended, ‘I couldn’t care less about feyin, royal or not. And if you don’t mind, I’m dog-tired. I need to sleep.’

  ‘Oh. But it’s still early …’ began Amadey, gesturing towards the other bunks, whose occupants were busily engaged in playing cards.

  ‘You join them if you want,’ I said, climbing the ladder to my bunk. ‘I’m whacked. And we have an early start tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I said firmly. Pulling the grey blankets over my head, I pretended to go to sleep. But pretence very soon turned to reality as exhaustion set in, and I slept without a break all night long.

  Kasper

  It was just on dawn when we were woken the next morning. After a hurried wash and breakfast of porridge and strong tea, we were bustled out of the barracks, allocated picks and sent off to the mines on foot. The entrance was guarded by a couple of brawny giants who demanded to see our identification before giving us each a card that we had to punch into a machine at every section we entered and left. Beyond the entrance and the first machine was a long narrow passageway lit only by flickering lights, down which we were funnelled, emerging into a cavern dominated almost entirely by a metal lift that took up more than half of its walls.

  ‘Karel says it’s used to ferry the carts that carry the salt to the surface. They would have been the first ones down this morning,’ Amadey said in an awed whisper, as we entered the lift.

  ‘Good for them,’ I said, but my irony was lost on Amadey, who
seemed to delight in every small experience in the mines.

  The lift crawled slowly down a long shaft, ejecting us finally into a huge chamber, well lit by gas lamps. It felt like another world, with no sense of night and day. There was a strange splendour to the place: the walls, ceiling and floor were made of black salt stone; bright white crystals of salt rambled on two giant rock pillars, and a large statue of the Prince of Night, carved in rock crystal, stood in a prominent niche against one wall.

  This was the place where the work crews punched in at the beginning of a shift and checked in with over seers, and it also served as the loading dock for the mine ponies. Before we were sent off to our workstations, the head overseer gave us another little lecture on safety in the mines, and then as a demonstration, he had all the lights switched off in the main cavern, so that we’d know what it was like if we were ever tempted to wander. It was so dark you felt as though in some strange way you had ceased to exist, for you had become invisible to yourself, and even touch and sound seemed muffled.

  After that, our section overseer immediately directed us to a long flight of slippery stone steps that led down to the place where we were to begin our tasks. This was a large cave, or even a chasm, which had clearly once been much more solid but had been terraced into sections. Here and there were lively carvings of strange creatures – goblins, gargoyles, long-haired wisps, mermaids.