The Crystal Heart

by Sophie Masson

  ‘Karel told me they were carved by miners centuries ago,’ whispered Amadey. ‘Aren’t they amazing?’

  ‘Yes,’ I replied. I’d seen carvings a little similar to them on churches and cathedrals in Krainos, only not as many, and not quite of the same sort. Here, it was like the miners’ imagination had peopled the echoing salt-rock chamber with creatures of dream and nightmare. Did such creatures really live in the caves? It was such a strange world, anything seemed possible.

  Amadey agreed with me. ‘It feels enchanted somehow,’ he said, ‘like something that isn’t quite real.’

  But the rock was real enough, and the work. Stone tracks with footholds led between the sections, and on each terrace, several men were set to work cutting out small square salt blocks with their pickaxes. Everything was hand-cut, and to strict dimensions, according to feyin law. That was why so many men were needed.

  Ours was one of two work crews in the section. Most of us cut, but some did other jobs, such as sending the blocks down to a lift on the bottom floor of the cave. From there, they were sent up to be loaded into the carts.

  It wasn’t difficult work to learn, and within a few hours I had the hang of it. After spending two years in prison, my muscles soon ached from the unaccustomed strain of wielding the pickaxe. But I was determined not to let it show. I forced myself past the pain to keep up the same steady rhythm as the others, including Amadey, who had proven to have a very good swing. When I asked him about it during our lunch break he grinned and confessed he’d been practising. ‘My uncle’s a stonemason, so I worked for him for a few weeks to get used to it.’

  ‘Lucky you,’ I said ruefully, massaging my sore shoulders.

  ‘Not sure I’d call it lucky,’ answered Amadey. ‘My uncle’s a right old grouch and never gives you a moment’s rest. At least they let us have a proper break here. And the food’s good, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s fine,’ I agreed. All the work crews shared lunch in the top chamber. Each man received a bowl of thick barley soup, two hard-boiled eggs and a big hunk of bread.

  I kept a close eye on the daily routine of the mine, trying to learn as much as I could. For instance, they kept a keen eye on comings and goings. Before we left our work section for lunch, we had to punch our cards in the machine near the lift shaft, and again when we went back to work. That way, the whereabouts of every worker at any given time was known. The guards posted near the lift shaft on each level of the mine not only kept an eye on that, but also made sure the workers did not try to steal any of the valuable salt flowers that bloomed in certain areas.

  These flowers are perfect salt crystals that need no refining, unlike the ordinary salt stone blocks. They are so pure they can be sold as is, to adorn the tables of the wealthy. Our section did not have any of these precious incrustations, and it was unlikely anyone would be tempted to steal the heavy salt stone blocks. But we still had a guard who sat by the shaft and made sure nothing had been chipped off the blocks before they were sent up: for Night salt is renowned throughout the world, and even offcuts would fetch a nice little sum.

  It would clearly not be the work of a few hours to figure out how to avoid the checks and musters, not to speak of getting the hang of the geography of the place. From talking to Amadey and other miners, I’d already understood that the mine had another two working levels below ours, and below them was the closed lower depth, to which there was no apparent access in the normal way. But each working level also had a main section, and leading off it was a network of smaller caves, some of which were used. Perhaps some of this network might lead in a roundabout way to the lower depth and from that to the Lake.

  But how I was going to access a level lower than my own, let alone find the right way to the Lake, I had no idea. It would come to me. It would have to, for something told me that I must not wait too long to carry out my mission.

  Days passed, then a week, then two. My muscles hardened as my body adapted to the work, and as my knowledge of the mines expanded, so did the outline of a plan. The best time for me to go would be at the lunch break; if I could persuade Amadey to punch my card for me, checking me in and out of lunch break, then it would not be till the evening check-out time that I’d be missed. And by then, hopefully, I’d have made my way to the Lake. I had built in my head a rough map of the caves through which I’d have to travel in order to reach the Lake. I also knew that, though in the mine-working levels there would be light, in the rest of the caves there would be none. I would have my torch, but I had no idea how long it would last or how long it would take me to reach the Lake. So, one evening I managed to snaffle another one.

  Amadey and I had become quite good friends. We spent most of our evenings after dinner together, talking and playing cards with two or three others. We didn’t play for money but for bits and pieces: matches, buttons, sweets – whatever came to hand – and I nearly always won. I had no idea how all those things I stored away might come in useful, until Amadey asked to trade some glass buttons I’d won. When I looked at him in surprise, he flushed and revealed that he was making a bracelet for a girl back home. It was quite pretty, the clear little discs on the white thread, though I wondered what a girl would think of such a humble gift. But I said nothing about that for I didn’t want to hurt his feelings and, more importantly, I knew just what I’d ask for a trade.

  ‘I want to sneak a look at the other working levels,’ I said, ‘and I thought I’d go in the lunch break. Can you cover for me?’

  ‘How?’ he asked, looking anxious.

  ‘I just need you to take my card and punch it in and out for me. I’ll be back at work by the time you get back from lunch.’

  ‘But how will you get into the other levels? They keep everything locked.’

  I produced a long thin pin I’d filched that afternoon. ‘This will do as a picklock.’

  Amadey’s eyes widened. ‘You don’t want to take anything, do you? You know what they do to anyone who helps themselves.’

  ‘Of course not!’ I said, pretending to sound offended. ‘I’m no thief! I just want to know more about the different kinds of work there is so I can get promoted.’

  He looked surprised – I’d not exactly given the impression of being ambitious before – but he nodded. ‘All right, Vazily. But you promise you’re not doing anything silly?’

  ‘I promise,’ I said, and I meant it. What I was doing wasn’t silly, it was plain dangerous.

  Amadey accepted this, even saying that I might do the same for him one day, and took the buttons. ‘It would be easy,’ he added breezily, ‘and it would be funny to outwit the guard.’

  But in the morning Amadey did not look quite as sure of himself. He’d clearly been thinking of all the things that could go wrong.

  ‘You might get lost,’ he said nervously. ‘Or you could fall down a hole and never return.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure-footed,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’

  ‘But the guards – what if they catch you?’

  ‘They won’t,’ I sighed.

  ‘But they might. And then there’d be an investigation and they’d find out I helped you. I’ll lose my job, too. We’ll both be shipped home in disgrace.’

  ‘That won’t happen,’ I told him firmly. ‘It will be fine. I promise you.’

  If he was anxious, I was feeling utterly calm. I worked through the first part of our shift hardly stopping for breath. Morning break came and went and still I worked steadily, while Amadey kept fumbling his pick and was told off by the foreman. Then it was time for lunch. We downed tools and moved towards the stamping machine. I could see Amadey was as jumpy as a hatful of crickets and I could only hope he’d play his part as we’d discussed. I’d planned it so we’d be last in line, so no other worker would see what we did, but it all depended on timing. If that was lost, so would the chance.

  There were ten people in front of us, then five, then three. As I’d hoped, the guard was not paying attention as Amadey punched his card;
and then, just as we’d planned, my friend fumbled and dropped his card. I bent down to help him pick it up and slid mine on top of his. He picked it up and punched it, the guard only making exasperated tutting noises. Holding both our cards, Amadey walked up the steps towards the level above, with me following behind. But while he kept going, I hid quietly in the shadows, waiting for the guard to go to lunch.

  As soon as he’d gone, I raced back down the steps. The way to the next level, through a lower door, would also be locked, but I had my pin for that. It took a good deal longer to unpick the lock than I’d predicted, though, and I was sweating by the time I’d finally got the door open. I slipped through, closing it carefully behind me. This level was different to ours, being a series of smaller caves. In and out of these I went, looking for the exit; and as I reached the last one, I had the uneasy feeling of being watched. Moving back into the shadows, I waited. But nothing happened.

  I moved on and found the exit. I picked the lock, quicker this time, and emerged at the top of a steep, long flight of steps cut into the rock, leading into the darkness below. Down, down, down, down until I was at last on the final level. I entered a large cavern that reminded me of the crypt of a cathedral, with freestanding pillars of black salt stone dotted about. And on the floor was something strange – what looked like footprints frozen in the stone, some larger than any beast’s I’d ever seen, while others were small and delicate.

  But I did not waste time wondering about this strange sight. I had to find the Lake. The only exit I could see here, though, was the one that led to the level above. The cavern otherwise seemed completely sealed, as I discovered on my third frustrating circuit of the place. I was conscious that the workers would soon be back from lunch. I walked round and round, desperately trying to think. I had to find a way.

  But in my rush I wasn’t looking where I was going. The toe of my boot snagged against one of the stone footprints and sent me sprawling. I heard a crack and thought it was a bone. But then, as I managed to scramble to my feet, I realised what had happened – the crystal, which I kept rolled up in the top of my sock, must have smashed! Panic-stricken, I pulled out the crystal. Holding it very carefully in my cupped palm, I examined the damage. As I’d feared, it was cracked all the way through. But it hadn’t shattered.

  At that moment, I felt a strange movement beneath my feet, like the ripples of a wave. All at once, a narrow shaft opened in the ground, and I was sucked into it so dizzyingly fast that I barely had time to draw breath. I hit the ground below with a sickening thud, and was so winded that it took me a moment to realise that I was in almost complete darkness, with only a dim illumination coming down the shaft from the level above.

  Somewhere in that hurtle down the shaft, I’d lost both my torches and was now without light. I clutched the crystal in my hand. Above my head, I heard pebbles come flying down and, immediately after, a grinding, clashing sound resounded. It could only mean one thing – the passage to the level above was closing, and I was marooned down here in the darkness with no hope of ever getting back. I had to find the Lake before the shaft closed and locked me into eternal darkness.

  Was that a glimmer of water? I crawled over the uneven and spiky ground and made my way to the faint watery shimmer. Just as I reached the Lake’s edge, I heard the passage closing with a clash of awful finality. I flung myself on the ground and groped towards the water.

  Bone-crushing, blood-freezing, mind-numbing cold. My teeth chattered, my body convulsed in a violent shiver that shook me from head to foot. Still I held on to the crystal, still I forced myself to go on. Taking a deep breath, I launched myself into the Lake.

  Izolda

  ‘Have you heard the news, my lady?’

  I looked up and smiled at Glarya, who had burst excitedly into my room. Small, sharp-nosed and fair-haired, she was a cheerful soul but also somewhat noisy and clumsy – a rare thing here. For that and the fact of her lowly origin – Glarya was from a remote outstation at the edge of the realm – she was looked down upon by the rest of the palace staff. My choice of Glarya as my maid no doubt hardened my bad reputation. When, last year, tired of being observed every minute of the day by unfriendly eyes, I dismissed my ladies-in-waiting and declared I would only have a personal maid by my side, it caused great consternation. My father let it pass for he knew that, following Fela’s death, I was at the end of my tether.

  Glarya did open her heart to me. Frequently! Though she was not like the rest of them here, she did share one thing in common with the other feyin. Like them, she had no desire to venture above ground. She did not understand why I should miss it.

  I smiled for her sake, because she is warm and kind. ‘What is it then, Glarya?’

  ‘They have caught a creature, my lady.’ Despite repeated instructions from the Chief of Protocol, she was always forgetting to call me ‘Your Royal Highness’, which suited me. I did once tell Glarya to call me by my given name, but soon realised that was as impossible for her as remembering my correct title. A feyin lady was a feyin lady – that was the way of the world, and Glarya ignores my human half. ‘They found it by the Crystal Fountain, half dead. Some say it is a creature from the abyss. Others say it is a shapeshifting wizard from That Place, who has come through the Lake.’

  The abyss is the place where our world ends, at the very edge of the Outlands. No one knows what is truly in it. That Place is what Glarya calls the lands above. She doesn’t distinguish between any of them. That Place is where humans rule, there are no feyin, and feya are found only as solitaries. And that to her is surely a disturbance of the natural order of things.

  ‘You shouldn’t listen to gossip, Glarya,’ I said half-heartedly. ‘It’s hardly likely to be either of those things. It’s probably just a stray cave goblin or Outlands skulker.’

  Glarya wore a stubborn look. ‘Well, my lady, I heard the Prince himself has ordered that it be brought to him. He will personally decide its fate, and you have to agree that is not the usual way for a simple trespasser.’

  No, indeed. A skulker illegally working in Night would simply be arrested by the City Guard, fined and sent back to whence he came. Cave goblins, however, are regarded as vermin and have no such privilege. They are immediately destroyed by the Marshals. In neither case was my father ever directly involved. So why was this different? What kind of trespasser could possibly interest my father? Only something more than commonly dangerous and unusual. Something … or someone. An intruder from above, who has somehow made their way through the Lake …

  My stomach churned. I tried to still my shaking hands, to swallow the lump of hot iron that had suddenly seemed to have lodged itself in my throat as a wild, impossible idea flooded into my mind. I thought of the crystal heart, long since abandoned somewhere in the bottom of a clothes chest. I had to find it.

  ‘Glarya,’ I said, trying hard to keep my voice calm, ‘you know how people gossip. They are likely to be rumours, and we should not listen to them.’

  ‘Yes, my lady,’ said Glarya, looking supremely unconvinced. She has never been able to hide her feelings. That’s another thing that endears her to me – it’s so different to the other staff, who keep a poker face at all times. At times I itched to slap them, just to see if their expressions would change. Happily, I had thus far resisted the temptation.

  ‘Kindly go and inform Lady Fandoren that I will not be attending the fitting this afternoon.’

  ‘But, my lady,’ Glarya said with a look of dismay, ‘the presentation is the day after tomorrow!’

  ‘Do you think I have forgotten? There will be time enough tomorrow for a last fitting,’ I said brusquely. ‘Right now, I am tired and need to rest. A complete rest, do you understand?’ I added sternly, looking at her.

  Glarya blushed. ‘I’m sorry, my lady, talking on and on like that … I just thought you’d like to hear –’

  ‘No harm done,’ I replied gently. ‘Now, if you will run that errand for me, it will be a load off my mind.’

>   ‘Certainly, my lady,’ Glarya said eagerly. ‘And if I may bring you anything to –’

  ‘No, no,’ I snapped, wanting her to be gone. Seeing her hurt look, I relented. ‘I will be fine. I just need a little rest, that’s all.’ I felt bad lying to her, my only friend, but I had to.

  ‘If you’re sure, my lady,’ she said, before leaving the room.

  Finally, blessedly, I was on my own. I locked the door and feverishly set about the task of rummaging in the big clothes chest. I almost missed the crystal, for it was hidden within the folds of a petticoat. As soon as I pulled it out, I knew it was awake. Yes, it was awake and no longer cold rock. But there was something strange about it, a deep inner light emanating from within.

  He was here! My love had come at last! Somehow he had escaped and found his way to me. I stared at the crystal for an instant, before threading it carefully onto a length of thin silk ribbon. Slipping it over my head, I tucked it under my bodice, the crystal resting against my skin, next to my heart. My skin tingled and puckered beneath it. The tears came unchecked as I remembered what Glarya had said: They found it by the Crystal Fountain, half dead. Oh dear Lady of the Rock, I prayed, please protect him. Let him be safe. Please.

  But it was not only prayers he needed. It was action.

  My father’s private quarters were some distance from mine, across the glittering Palace Square. I wanted to run but I could not, for fear of ever-watching eyes. I could not give them cause to wonder, not now. It was agony to force my steps into this slow pace. When at last I reached my father’s rooms, Lord Chamberlain Parigan told me that the Prince had given instructions not to be disturbed.

  ‘By anyone,’ Lord Parigan added, looking at me meaningfully. He was not one of the many who hated me, but he had never been a friend. He was a dry old stick who genuinely cared about my father’s wellbeing. And that’s how I had to tackle him, because I had no idea exactly where my father was, and I would not get far if Lord Parigan stood in my way.