The Magic Mines of Asharim

by Pauline M. Ross

  Once two of the women got into a fight. One moment they were sniping at each other in an unpleasant but bearable way, and the next they were rolling on the floor trying to poke each other’s eyes out, with the rest of the group screaming at them. Violent anger flooded through me, and I screamed, too, my hands balling into fists. I barely managed to stop myself diving into the melee. I dashed outside and got to the far side of the courtyard before the tempest of rage began to subside.

  The three young men were far more stable, or perhaps their night-time activities drained them of the energy to fight. One of the castrated men was a roiling mess of jealousy against the capable men, but the other, rather sweetly, had a passion for Chendria, for reasons unfathomable to me. The two older women were a placid sea of contentment by comparison. And Chendria herself – she harboured a secret passion for her own brother. Interesting.

  It was fortunate for me that the town was big enough and the weather benign enough to allow me to escape. In any normal mining community, we would all have been huddled into a single room at this time of year, clustered round a blazing fire, and the maelstrom of emotions would have pounded me with no relief. As it was, I was able to escape from them after my chores were finished, and again in the evening if tensions ran high. Even at darkmoon, the glowing walls of the town gave me enough light to wander wherever I wanted, and there were soft lamps which lit as I walked towards them and darkened again afterwards. It was warm, too, warm enough to sit outside comfortably for hours.

  I did some exploring, but mostly I just found myself a quiet corner to sit, well away from anyone, enjoying the peace. There were seats everywhere – gaily painted wooden benches, stone borders around herb beds, roughly carved logs or cool marble. Even when it rained, or rather, when the snow was turned to rain by the warmth of the town, there were canopies to shelter beneath, with water dripping in thin waterfalls in front of me and drains gurgling.

  When I wanted to hide away, I found tiny courtyards or drying yards behind empty houses, but my favourite places were the large squares edged with abandoned shops and table houses, each with its fountain in the centre. There were fountains everywhere here, from the massive ornamental ones hundreds of paces in circumference to tiny affairs for people to drink from. And all of them working, which distressed me more than anything. No shortage of water here. Beyond the walls, it streamed down the steep sides of the mountains to fill the great rivers of the plains. Within, water gushed and spouted and plumed constantly.

  My favourite fountain featured an array of sea creatures spouting water high into the air. An odd sight here, so far from the ocean. Around the edge of the pool sat a chain of small dragons, each one different from its neighbours, all of them so finely carved that it was almost possible to imagine the twitch of a claw or a wing shifting position. I would walk all round the pool, stroking each one, giving them suitable names in High Mesanthian, then find a dry spot to sit amongst them.

  I loved to sit, eyes closed, listening to the regular plashing, enjoying the warmth, imagining myself at Mesanthia. In its days of glory, when the river ran and there was plenty of water, people had called it the city of fountains. The fountains were still there, still kept in working order. For two hundred years the Keeper –a succession of Keepers, in fact – had insisted they be maintained, but they were all silent now.

  So it was both a pleasure and a sorrow to find so many working fountains here, unseen and unappreciated. No one else frequented these places, although sometimes I heard people passing by on the other side of a wall. Once a couple sat themselves in a sheltered nook just the other side of a high gate – one of the extractors with a companion-servant – but I was able to creep away before the flames of their passion flared too high.

  Rufin was the only one who found my hiding places, and it happened too often to be chance. He usually finished his afternoon chores before me – Chendria was much easier on the men, and often released them early – but however long it was before I could make my own escape, he would appear moments after I settled myself on a seat. I was sure he followed me.

  “Oh, Allandra!” he would say, feigning surprise. “D’you want to be alone? Or can I sit and talk t’you for a while? I’d like some company.”

  I didn’t mind. He was a restful companion, his thoughts placid and not at all alarming. Most of the mine folk were nervous around me, or at best suspicious, but he was rather attracted to me, in a friendly way, and that was pleasant. He chattered away about nothing in particular, not requiring me to answer or even listen very much. He was charming, in his way, with his cheeky grin and wavy brown hair that fell to his shoulders, which in Mesanthia would have made him a high-ranking administrator or a catamite. Clearly he wasn’t either of those.

  One day, though, I detected anxiety in him. He leaned towards me, and spoke in a low voice, almost as if he expected to be overheard. “Why does Chendria dislike you so much?”

  It was a good question, which had exercised my mind, too. “I have no idea. I don’t know what I’ve done to upset her.”

  “Maybe it’s not anything you’ve done. Maybe it’s what y’are.”

  So we were back to that. “Whatever I am,” I said acidly, “I can hardly change it.”

  “I think she jus’ wants you t’admit it,” he said, eyeing me cautiously. He was nervous, I could tell that. “She asked me t’ask you – if you’re… y’know. Akk’ashara.” He said it the uneducated way, ‘Akshara’.

  “Why does she care?” I said impatiently, getting up and striding about. His nerves were beginning to affect me. “What does it matter what I was, whether it’s Akk’ashara or anything else? There are a hundred different nationalities along the coast, what’s so special about the Akk’ashara?”

  “It’s th’Empire, isn’t it? People still remember.”

  “The Empire! That came to an end almost two hundred years ago. People have long memories, if they still care about that.”

  “They care.” His voice was no more than a whisper. “They still carve th’marks over th’front door – for those who disappeared.”

  “They didn’t disappear, they went off to a better life,” I said scornfully. But I stopped myself – it wasn’t Rufin’s fault he’d never been educated and knew nothing of history. Pointless to try to enlighten him now.

  Besides, he wasn’t the instigator here. “Right, I’m going to put a stop to this,” I said.

  I strode off and he scampered after me. “What are you going t’do? Allandra, don’t do anythin’ stupid, will you?”

  Chendria was in the Main House, sitting over tennel and cakes with Petreon and the two old women when I marched in. I caught surprise in all of them, alarm in the old women, and irritation in Chendria, mixed with something remarkably like fear. Petreon was only amused. Probably it wasn’t wise for me to antagonise them; if they became angry I would have trouble controlling my responses. But I couldn’t let it go, so I would say my piece, but do my best to keep it polite.

  “Mistress,” I began. “I would ask you not to send Rufin to interrogate me. If you have any questions, please ask me yourself.”

  She licked her lips. Her fear rose – why was she afraid of me? – but she lifted her chin defiantly. “Very well then. I want to know if you are Akk’ashara.”

  “If you tell me why it matters to you, I will answer you.”

  “My reasons are none of your business!”

  “Then my origins are none of yours. I came here in order to leave my past behind, and I dislike anyone raking around in the embers of my history—” I stopped, overwhelmed for a moment by the truth of my words.

  She must have taken my sudden silence for uncertainty, for she curled her lips in some semblance of a smile. “Ha! You think you’re so grand, with your fancy ways and that sharp accent—”

  By the One, I kept forgetting the accent.

  Petreon rapped on the table. “Enough.”

  Everyone turned to look at him, but he said nothing more, picking up his mu
g and sipping the tennel as though nothing at all had happened. Just then two of the extractors came in giggling together, and a couple of the children behind them, and the tension in the room drained away. Except for Chendria, who stared fixedly at the table, but burned with anger inside. I had to leave quickly before it overwhelmed me.

  ~~~~~

  One morning I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the kitchen floor as usual, with Chendria watching me, filled with amusement for some reason, when Kijana came in, one of the children trailing behind her.

  “Mistress, would you mind if I borrow Allandra? I’m having trouble with a calling.”

  Chendria grunted. “She won’t be any use to you.”

  “I’ll send her straight back if this doesn’t work, I promise, but I’ve tried everyone else.”

  I sat on the floor, mystified, soapy water dripping from my hands, my gaze shifting from one to the other and back again. What could she possibly want of me? I had no skill in the mines that would help.

  Chendria grunted again. “Well, all right. You can finish this later.”

  Oh, wonderful. The water in the bucket would be quite cold by then. Meekly I dried my hands, removed the sacking apron I was wearing and followed Kijana outside. It was raining, so we had to skip from one spot of shelter to another.

  “Sorry to drag you away from your scrubbing,” Kijana said as we half ran across a courtyard. “I know you’d rather be under Chendria’s watchful eye.” She giggled.

  “Is that why I’m here – a respite?”

  “No, although you deserve it. She’s hard on you. If it’s any comfort, she was worse with the one before you.”

  The one that something bad had happened to, the muler had said. The quiet one. “Whatever happened to her?” It was an idle question; I wasn’t terribly interested, but Kijana stopped so abruptly I almost crashed into her.

  “No one told you? Moon and stars!” Rain dripped down her horrified face. “She killed herself.”

  My hands flew to my cheeks. “But why? Did she hate it here so much?”

  “I don’t really know. She didn’t talk about herself. Well, she didn’t talk much at all. Kept to herself. Maybe we could have helped her if… Well, too late now. Come on, let’s get to the mine.”

  We dried off in the Mine House, then Kijana led the way through the tunnel. I was nervous, but Kijana radiated calmness and something more – excitement, perhaps – and that reassured me.

  “I have no idea how I can help you,” I said as we reached the bottom of the ramp.

  She stopped, turning to face me. “Oh! You weren’t around the other day when we were explaining all this to Dilla and Janna. No wonder you look so bewildered.” She laughed. “Sorry! I should have worked that out. Look – sit down over here, and I’ll explain.”

  We settled ourselves on the edge of the ramp. It was quiet down here, and I wasn’t aware of the creatures above at all. Very peaceful, and Kijana’s emotions were placid, too, apart from that little buzz of excitement.

  “After brightmoon, the flickers are very absorbed in themselves for a while,” Kijana began. “They’re aware of us, of course, but they don’t reach out to us. But there’s a point when they turn – that’s what we call it when they’re ready to respond to us. Then we can begin the process that leads to a calling – an extraction, if you like. But sometimes they won’t answer the call, because they want the same people there who were around when they turned. I have one like that just now. He wants to answer—”

  “He? He wants to?”

  She clicked her tongue softly. “Well, yes, it’s odd to think of them that way, but it feels like a he, to me. It’s hard to explain. Anyway, I’ve tried with everyone else, but he’s still looking for someone, so I thought it might be you. There was a day when you were in here, remember? It was very early in the mooncycle, but even so… It might be you he wants. It’s worth a try. He’s a beauty, so lively and bright.”

  I shivered in disgust. It was obscene, talking about them that way, as if they were sentient beings. They had some form of life, that was obvious, but there was no intelligence in them. There couldn’t be.

  “You’ll help, won’t you?” Kijana said anxiously, the first flash of fear in her mind. “I don’t want to lose this one.”

  “What happens if you can’t extract it?”

  “At the next brightmoon, the bloom wipes out all the empathy we’ve built, so we have to start again.”

  “The bloom?” My head was spinning. I’d read a great deal about the mines over the years, but all of this was new to me.

  “The cavern fills with some kind of blue vapour at brightmoon. It’s poisonous to us, but the flickers thrive on it. That’s when they grow, and the mature ones divide.”

  I remembered the blue haze when I’d been in the cavern before. That must have been the remnant of the bloom.

  “Do you want to see it?” she asked.

  “The bloom? Is that possible?”

  “It’s not vapour at the moment, but… Look, I’ll show you.”

  She led me up into the cave and across the floor. There on the far side was a narrow tunnel I hadn’t noticed before. It was dark, but not very long, for the far end was lit by a blue glow.

  “Is it safe?”

  She laughed. “At the moment, yes. Safe enough. Come on, don’t be nervous.”

  The tunnel was glass-smooth, walls and floor alike. It was no more than twenty paces from end to end, and there was another hemispherical cave. There were no flicker holes here, but the walls were streaked with jagged fissures tall enough to walk into. The floor of the cavern was almost completely filled by a pool of blue water. Around the edge, several children sat or stood, swaying slightly, eyes closed. The pool glowed in the darkness, lighting the children’s faces like masks.

  “The children love it here,” Kijana said sadly. “When the bloom takes them, this is where they come. To die.” She saw my puzzled face, and added, “In the water. They walk into the water. The bloom gives them an affinity with the flickers, but it draws them, too. It never lets them go.”

  I felt it too, some strange, mesmerising pull towards the mirror-smooth surface and the iridescent light below. For an age, it seemed, we stood unmoving, gazing into it. There was nothing to see, though, for whatever the liquid was, it was opaque, hiding its secrets from us.

  Kijana exhaled loudly. “Well. Let’s get on with the job, shall we?”

  “What do I have to do?” I asked, as we walked back to the main cave.

  “Oh, nothing difficult, just stand on the platform with me, nothing else. If it’s not you he wants, you’ll be able to leave straight away…”

  “Back to the scrubbing.”

  She laughed. “Yes. But if it is you, then you’ll need to stay for the whole calling – a couple of hours, at least. Will that be a problem?”

  I shook my head. “Lead the way.”

  Kijana took me to one of the shorter platforms, reaching just a short way up one wall. I climbed the ladder behind her, and, at her direction, sat cross-legged in one corner, my back against the wooden railing.

  Now that I was so close, I was aware of the flicker in its hole. There was that friendly warmth towards me – well, all the women, I guessed – but something more now, a buzz of excitement in the creature. Kijana was filled with the same excitement, cooing at the thing almost as if it were a child. If I’d never seen what they could do, I’d probably be enchanted with them too, but I watched her with horror. My stomach revolted at the sight, and I was overcome with nausea.

  “He’s happy to see you,” she said, beaming at me. “Are you all right with this? I know you’re nervous about them.”

  “No, it’s fine,” I said, trying to smile back, and failing.

  “Oh, good! He’s very willing, so this shouldn’t take long.”

  She babbled away at it, crooning little songs, her face right next to the hole. And it moved towards her, inch by inch, sliding closer and closer. Gradually, very slowl
y, it began to emerge from the hole and, by the One, it was beautiful! Its body was transparent, but filled with tiny points of colour that flickered in and out, a hundred, maybe a thousand different colours, giving shape to the body. Without the lights, it would have been nothing but an amorphous blob, a rather fat jelly-like worm, pulsing as it wriggled closer to Kijana’s face. Closer and closer it came, almost entirely out of its hole, reaching across the void towards her murmuring mouth. I thought I was going to be sick.

  Just as the horrifying thought occurred to me that she was actually going to swallow it, it tipped downwards so that it was dangling from the lip of its hold, oozing over the edge. Kijana stepped back, raised a glass jar and deftly caught the thing as it fell. She dropped to the ground and quickly slapped a lid over the top.

  It screamed. That’s the only way I can describe it. There was no sound, but in my head it shrieked its protest, and its anger was as sharp and piercing as a dagger. I clutched my head and fell over, writhing in agony. I’d never experienced anything like it.

  As suddenly as it had begun, it stopped, and the quiet was bliss. It wasn’t entirely subdued, grumbling at a very low level, but it was nothing by comparison.

  Cautiously I lowered my arms and pushed myself off the ground, rather ashamed of my violent reaction. Kijana was sprawled across the platform, panting. And crying.

  “I hate that part!” she said, wiping her eyes with one sleeve. “But I got him.”

  She lifted the jar, and I saw that the original jar was now enclosed in a metal container. No light, that was why the flicker had quietened down. The dark subdued them.