Nightpeople

by Anthony Eaton

  Saria settled by the fire.

  ‘What happens now?’

  ‘Nothing. At least, not for a while. You try and get some sleep. Proper sleep, this time, not half dead like you were before.’

  ‘Will you stay with me?’

  ‘For a while. Then I’ll have to go. You’ll need food and water if you’re to stay here for a couple of days. And I’ve got some jobs to do for Wanji.’

  ‘Jobs?’

  Dariand offered her a tight smile.

  ‘Let’s just say that Slander isn’t the only one who’ll be keeping an eye on things up there.’

  He set about unrolling one of the sleeping mats in the alcove.

  ‘The fire should burn for a few hours and I’ll be back with more fuel long before it dies. In the meantime, here …’ From the bag he produced a water-skin and a few strips of dried meat. ‘It’s the best I can manage at the moment. I’ll bring something more filling down later.’

  ‘That’s fine.’ She was starving. It had been ages since she’d last eaten. As she chewed, Dariand settled in the other sleeping alcove and watched her.

  ‘Once you’ve finished, lie down. I’ll wait with you a bit.’

  The dung-fire filled the room with a warm, pungent scent. Saria finished her scant meal, took a quick draught from the skin, then lay back on the thin sleeping mat. Through it, she was uncomfortably aware of the coldness of the stone beneath. There was nothing in it. No earthwarmth.

  ‘Do you think they’ll send me back to Olympic?’

  ‘They can try. I won’t let them.’

  ‘Even if they do, it won’t do them any good. I’m not reaching again. Ever.’

  ‘You don’t know that.’

  ‘Yes, I do.’ She rolled on her side to look at Dariand. ‘I used to like it. Reaching. Back in the valley I used to love it. When I was reaching into a lizard or something it was just like … I dunno … like the only time I was really alive. It’s not like that any more.’

  ‘Why not.’

  ‘It just isn’t. Every time I do it someone gets hurt. Dreamer Baanti, the dog. I nearly hurt you, back at that waterhole.’

  ‘You didn’t know what you were doing.’

  ‘I do now. And I know what can happen because of it.’

  Dariand didn’t answer, and after a moment Saria changed the subject.

  ‘Do you think Darri’s right? Do you think the call could be my mother?’

  ‘I think Darri talks a lot of dung.’ There was sudden vehemence in his voice. ‘She always has.’

  ‘But what if …’

  ‘No, Saria. The Nightpeople don’t keep pets. Jani was dead when they took her away.’

  ‘If she wasn’t …’

  ‘Then there’s nothing we can do about it anyway.’

  Saria didn’t have an answer, so she rolled onto her back again. Silence thickened around them and eventually Dariand stood up. When he spoke, his voice had softened.

  ‘If you wake up, don’t try to find your way back out alone. It’s easy to get turned around down here and if you get lost we’ll never find you. There’s a pail in that corner if you need to … you know.’

  Saria nodded her understanding, and Dariand stepped around the fire to stand over her.

  ‘I’m sorry to leave you here on your own, but … I’ll be back soon. Don’t worry.’

  He leant down, and to Saria’s surprise planted a quick kiss on her forehead. ‘Try and sleep.’

  The cool, dry touch of his lips against her skin lingered for a long time after the flickering glow of his torch had faded down the outside passageway.

  SARIA!

  The call seemed to ring and echo off the hard walls. Saria woke up. The fire had burnt low, only a few dull embers still alight. Beyond them, Dariand’s sleeping form was a black pile in the other alcove.

  She’d lost track of the time she’d spent in the little chamber Dariand had brought meals and water and stayed with her when he could, but Dreamer Wanji needed him up in Woormra to watch the Olympic mob and keep attention away from the arriving Dreamers. So most of the time she’d spent on her own, sleeping and recovering. The throbbing twist in her arm had gradually given way to a dull ache.

  When the call woke her, it was different. Displaced, somehow. It didn’t surge into her from out of the ground, but came as a faint echo. As though it was held apart from her by a barrier

  Rising, she turned round slowly. Dariand still slumbered, snoring slightly, and the light from the fire was little more than a low glow across the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, she ducked her head and crawled out into the passageway outside.

  Until now, she’d heeded Dariand’s warnings about not wandering. The thought of getting trapped or lost somewhere in the inky darkness was enough to keep her in the little chamber, imprisoned as effectively as she had been in the pit at Olympic. It was different, of course. This time she had light, and food, and water. And company, too. With nothing else to do, she and Dariand had talked, whenever he could get away to join her.

  He’d told her about his childhood growing up in the valley, about learning to hunt and follow the vaultlights with Dreamer Wanji. He’d told her about the places in the Darklands he’d visited – places like Coob, with its underground huts and where the people had to climb down through the earth in tunnels like these to get to their well of deep, cold springwater. Of Mooka, which had been a Skypeople town before the Shifting, and where old Skypeople huts and buildings were still dotted between those of the Darklanders.

  ‘It’s a bad town, Mooka,’ he said. ‘Barely ever got a clean baby out of there. Just something about the place.’

  Saria thought about the old camel woman, Gan, and her lost child.

  Those conversations had filled the long, dim hours. And through them, Saria had begun to look at Dariand with different eyes. Until now, she’d always thought of him as nothing more than Dreamer Wanji’s nightwalker – he was good at reading the vaultlights and finding water and food, but it was the old Dreamer who decided where he would travel and why.

  The more he talked, though, the more she understood that that wasn’t true. Dariand did what he did because he cared. He actually thought there was a future. Even in the dry, dead wastelands of the Darklands, he could see hope. Some of that came from Dreamer Wanji, sure, but a lot of it was in Dariand himself.

  Outside the chamber, only a dim cast of light escaped through the narrow gap. Right away she felt the difference in the rock. The rough, sundered stone of the narrow access passage seemed so much more alive than the dead hardness of the Skypeople’s tunnels. She could almost feel the earthwarmth pulsing around her and had to consciously strengthen her mental barriers against it.

  Below her, the passageway slanted into darkness, and, slowly picking her way as much by feel as by sight, she edged her way downwards, trailing the fingers of her left hand along the wall. The junction of the two tunnels was just a little way down and when she reached it she was relieved to find she could look back up the right-hand passage and still see the dull shine of light spilling out from the hidden chamber. It was a comforting sight.

  SARIA!

  Here, nestled in the living rock of the access tunnel, the call was normal again. It almost rocked her on her feet as it filled her with earthwarmth, even as she tried to hold it back. She almost surrendered to it. There was nothing and nobody to reach down here. But slowly she strengthened her resolve against it, and pushed it back down.

  It did bring with it one unexpected benefit, though – direction. Suddenly she knew which way was nightwards, and with that knowledge everything around her seemed to fall into perspective. The tunnels, the chamber where Dariand still slept, even her memory of the trip up from the enormous council cavern, all dropped into a neat orientation in her mind. In a flash, Saria knew that if she wanted to she could probably find her own way back down there. Perhaps even back out though the main tunnel and up into Woormra.

  The left-hand branch of the fork whistled quietl
y with fresh air and Saria breathed in deeply, closing her eyes and enjoying the coolness across her face. After days in the close confines of the tiny chamber, she’d become immune to its odour – the smell of burning dung and her own waste.

  The air that flowed out of the rock tasted good. So clean that even the tiny movement of it across her skin was as refreshing as a splash of water across her face.

  With her eyes closed, she took a small step into the breathing tunnel, sensing the rock as it closed over her head. Inside the opening, the air washed around her entire body, prickling her skin into gooseflesh.

  She kept her eyes closed tight, knowing that if she opened them the darkness would probably swamp her and she’d panic. Instead, she just edged forward, step by step along the narrowing tunnel, picturing her progress in her mind.

  The roof dropped lower and gradually Saria found herself becoming more and more hunched until she had to drop onto all-fours and crawl. She soon reached a point where further progress would involve lying flat on her belly and wriggling like a snake. This must have been the spot where Dariand had been stopped.

  Should I? she wondered, toying with the idea of pushing even further. It was possible that she’d be able to make it where a man of Dariand’s size couldn’t. But what if she was wrong?

  Sighing, Saria backed out until she felt the roof lifting above her again. Then she stood and walked back down to the fork before opening her eyes.

  ‘Saria!’ Dariand’s voice rang urgently down the passageway, just as she reached the junction.

  ‘I’m down here. By the fork.’

  Light flickered brighter as Dariand kindled his torch then slid out and hurried down to her. He didn’t try to hide his annoyance.

  ‘Bloody night spirits, girl! You scared the life out of me, vanishing like that!’

  ‘I just wanted a breath of air. I’m sick of being cooped up.’

  ‘It’s not for much longer. The council should be meeting today.’

  ‘When will we go down there?’

  ‘You won’t. Dreamer Wanji thinks it would be best to keep you out of sight until everything’s been sorted out.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘No. On this I agree with him. Don’t worry, I’ll argue your case.’

  ‘I should be allowed to hear what gets said about me.’

  ‘No.’

  His tone made it clear that this was the end of the discussion.

  ‘How far up there have you been?’ Saria indicated the darkness from which she’d only recently emerged.

  ‘Not far. It’s only a little way before it gets too tight. You didn’t go up, did you?’

  ‘No,’ she lied.

  ‘Good. If you got stuck …’

  ‘I know. You’d never find me.’ It had been Dariand’s favourite catchcry these last few days. Now, though, with her newfound sense of direction, Saria wasn’t certain she agreed with him.

  ‘Good. Don’t forget it, then.’ Dariand nodded back up the passageway. ‘Can you get yourself back if I keep going from here?’

  ‘Of course.’ Her retort came out sounding more sharp than she’d intended.

  ‘No need to be like that.’ He grinned to let her know that he wasn’t truly mad. ‘I’m gonna go and check in with Wanji. If the council meeting starts, I might not be able to get back to you until afterwards. You’ll be alright?’

  ‘Go,’ she told him. He turned and walked a little way down the tunnel before stopping and calling back to her.

  ‘Saria?’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Don’t worry about the council, eh? Whatever gets said down there, I’ll be looking out for you. Just promise me you’ll wait here.’

  She didn’t answer, just nodded. Reassured, Dariand turned and continued down the sloping tunnel and out of sight. Saria watched his torchlight fade, and breathed out loudly, the sound echoing along the stone walls.

  At least she hadn’t needed to lie to him.

  Not out loud, at any rate.

  Back in the small cavern, Saria waited long enough for Dariand to get well ahead, steeling herself for the task ahead.

  There was no way she was about to let a group of old men decide her future for her No way at all. If Dariand wanted to argue on her behalf, that was fine, but she was determined to hear for herself what happened down there. Even if it meant finding her own way to the council chamber. Alone. In the dark.

  She cast a quick glance around the small chamber, toying with the idea of making a torch. There wasn’t much material, though, and in any case she’d have to extinguish it well before she emerged into the main chamber. It would be no use at all for getting back again.

  No. She’d do it on her own.

  Closing her eyes, Saria took a couple of deep breaths and let her mental picture of the tunnels fall into place. It shouldn’t be hard. The climb down the fork wasn’t at all difficult, and the fissure leading from there to the cavern had seemed fairly straight.

  Kneeling, she threw several handfuls of dried dung onto the fire, blowing on it until it flared up. Dariand wouldn’t have been happy with the amount of fuel she was using, but it would give her a lot more light on the way down. And besides, she wasn’t planning on coming back here.

  At least, not if things went well.

  When she was certain Dariand would be well and truly down in the chamber, Saria crawled out into the passage, then returned and retrieved a half-full water-skin, slinging it across her back.

  As she’d suspected, the climb down the rough fissure to the council chamber was simple. The stoked-up fire threw out enough dull light to illuminate the floor during the first part of the walk, until she rounded a shallow bend and was cut off from the direct glow. As the remaining light grew more and more diffused, Saria closed her eyes and trailed a hand along one wall, just as she had in the breathing tunnel, guiding herself downwards. A hanging outcrop caught her a glancing blow on the side of her head and she cursed softly, then continued more slowly.

  Finally her ears picked up the murmur of voices somewhere below. At almost the same moment the warm rock under her fingers faded to cold muteness, and, opening her eyes, Saria found herself standing just inside the narrow opening of the fissure, the expansive darkness of the main chamber right in front of her. Cautiously, she poked her head through the gap.

  Over towards the main entrance, lit by the flickering fire-pit, the council sat on their stones, a new gap in the circle where Baanti had held his position. Other people stood behind the outermost stones. She immediately recognised Dariand by his confident stance, and a little away from him the bulky form of Slander. None of the men looked in her direction; all stared into the centre of the circle and the fire.

  Confident that both the darkness and the men’s concentration would conceal her, Saria flattened herself to the floor and crept slowly forward until she could clearly hear the discussion taking place. Dreamer Wanji was standing by the fire in the centre of the circle, and his voice trembled with barely concealed anger.

  ‘The girl’s a Dreamer so she’ll make her own decisions. Now you shut up, Slander You’ll get your chance to speak at the proper time, but any of you open your mouths again and you won’t be welcome in council any longer, understand?’

  Slander, who’d positioned himself slightly forward of the rest of his group, now stepped back a little into the shadows. His dark eyes flashed in the firelight.

  ‘Listen up!’ Dreamer Wanji’s face, lit from below, was old and drawn. He turned slowly, taking in every one of the men surrounding him. ‘You lot all know why we’re here. Strange things’ve been happening since Saria came down from the valley and a lot of bad feelings have been thrown around. It’s all got to stop, you hear? We start fightin’ among ourselves and we got no chance at all. There’s never been war in the Darklands, not ever, even after the Shifting. The only way we’ve all managed is ‘cause we keep together, and that’s not going to change. Right?’

  Murmurs of agreement echoed around the chamber


  ‘Good. We all agree. Whatever the council decides to do about the girl, then that’s it. No more arguing an’ no more storming into one another’s towns looking for a fight.’ The old man glared at Slander, whose only response was to glower back.

  ‘Now, it seems to me that several people reckon they got a claim over the girl, and we’ll hear from them first. Then you lot can bugger off and the council will make a decision, understand?’

  Those standing outside the stone circle nodded.

  ‘And I wanna make it real clear here; you can argue your case alright, but any silly business and you’re outa the chamber. This is a Darklands decision, and it gets made by the council, not by any of you. You agree?’

  There was more nodding, but Dreamer Wanji shook his head, dissatisfied.

  ‘I wanna hear each of you say it. If you don’t agree, you can leave now, eh?’

  ‘I agree.’ Dariand was the first to speak. His voice echoed around the chamber, and Dreamer Wanji nodded.

  ‘Good, then. How about you?’ He looked at Slander.

  The silence grew thicker, until finally the large man nodded.

  ‘I agree.’

  One by one, those outside the council circle gave their consent. Then Dreamer Wanji sat.

  ‘Right. Slander, you first.’

  Slander walked between the stone seats and stood in the light. The yellow flickering seemed to wash some of the colour out of his body, lending him the look of a ghost or night spirit.

  ‘You all know that after what happened to Dreamer Daali, we made laws about this, about what’ll happen when a Dreamer burns someone out. And that law’s clear. When a Dreamer burns out someone, they take on that person’s debts. That’s the penalty for doing what she did to Baanti, and it doesn’t matter if the Dreamer is a bloke or a girl, young or old. That’s the law as this very council made it.’

  He paused for a moment, then pointed at Dreamer Baanti’s vacant stone.

  ‘Well, that’s all we’re asking for now. What the law owes us. She burnt out Baanti, and so she takes on his burdens. His obligations to Olympic. That’s our claim over her, and you all know it’s strong. If she’s Dreamer enough to burn out Dreamer Baanti, then she’s Dreamer enough to keep Olympic alive a little longer That’s our right.’