The distant screams went suddenly quiet as the catapults ceased pounding. Orange flames formed stark black shadows as in the distance, bugles called.
Thomas ran a hand across a stone wall, pressed a ridged carving and the stone swung open, revealing a hidden doorway. Thomas took Rebecca from Sarah’s arms, and ducked through the opening.
Behind them, the Cardo exploded into sound. Torchlight flared. Thomas pulled Sarah through the archway as, with a roar and clash of weapons, the soldiers of imperial Rome ran forward. Hearing the screams, Sarah glanced behind her. People shrieked, clawed at each other, but there was no escape ...
Thomas slammed the stone door shut. In the sudden darkness, she heard him slide the heavy bolts home. Even through the thick stone she heard screaming.
Thomas was panting. “There’s a trapdoor. Leading to the tunnels.” He grunted, as though lifting something heavy. A hinge creaked and she felt a sudden damp breeze. “There’s a ladder,” he said. “Reach out your hand. Feel it?”
Cold metal under her hand. She nodded, then realizing Thomas couldn’t see her, said, “Yes.”
“Go slowly.”
It was like stepping into a pit. Sarah went first, then Rebecca. Carefully, she felt her way down the slippery rungs. When Thomas pulled the trapdoor shut above them dust fell on her head, into her nose. She stopped, fighting the sneeze.
“Go on,” he said.
After ten, twenty, fifty steps, Sarah reached the bottom. Dry sand. Stone walls, cool to the touch. No light, no air. She wanted to beat her hands against the stone: to scream. It was too dark!
“Mother,” Rebecca whispered.
She took a deep breath. “Yes. I’m here.”
Faintly she heard water trickling. Slowly, Sarah eased herself away from the wall, and pushed herself forward into the darkness. One breath, in and out. One foot after another after another. That’s the way to go on living.
Oh Gods, keep us safe.
The carry sack about her shoulders felt heavy, the glass globe pressed against her back. Why had she brought it with her? It was pointless, stupid. Why hadn’t Shimon given her something useful? All this time he had foreseen this. Hoped it wouldn’t happen, but planned for it, nevertheless. She straightened, breathed in the damp air. One more step, Sarah.
Shimon had told her: they were to sail by night along the Middle Sea. Thomas knew the way. They would go to her family in Less Britain; the gold in the sack would pay for their passage. You’ll be safe in Less Britain, Shimon had said. She hoped this was true.
Suddenly she stopped. Rebecca banged into her, pushing her forward so the sack clinked loudly.
“Ssh!” said Thomas
She turned, looked back along the tunnel. Nothing to see, only blackness. “Something …”
“What?”
“It feels different.” She licked her finger, held it up. It felt cold. “Wind! I feel a wind!”
“Not far now.”
Sarah started forward. The going felt easier: the tunnel must be running downhill.
* * *
She would go to Caesarea, climb on a boat and sail to Less Britain, where her slave grandfather had come from, because … Because Shimon had told her to, and because she loved him, and because she loved her daughter. No. She was lying to herself. It wasn’t love that drove her onwards – it was fear. Because unlike Shimon, she was not willing to face the swords in the Temple courtyards. In the darkness of the tunnel, Sarah stumbled. Unlike Shimon, she was a coward.
In a globe of glass
A family turns.
Voices cry and,
Cold fire burns.
Chapter Five
Calm Before The Storm
Memories returned: N’tombe, TeSin. Jed. Will. What had happened to me? I remembered the mocking voice of the Kamaye and my prideful response: I am no one’s sacrifice.
“Where the hell,” I asked slowly, “have I been?”
I had been wrong to think the night was peaceful.
Now I remembered: I was to be a sacrifice, a gift to the grasslands. In spring, my blood was to be poured out on the grass. I had come here willingly. I’d offered myself because Kamaye, evil immortals, had threatened Will. What had happened to me? The last few months felt foggy. I remembered attendants, strange food and a cold, cold wind. Had I been ill?
A woman stood in front of the window, outlined by light. “Wynne? Is that you?”
Wynne and the other souls lived only in the necklace. Rosa, my homeland’s Guardian, had taken some of the beads, and bound them about my wrist as a bracelet. But the beads had gone, transformed into lines etched into my skin. A relief, to know that their souls remained. I traced a tattooed rose with my finger.
“What happens to you if I’m killed?”
A pause, then: “We die too.” We being the soulbeads: Wynne, Adianna, Suzanna, Robb and Phileas.
“Well then.” I smiled shakily. “Best I not die then.”
“You were drugged,” Wynne said. “I’m so sorry.”
“Drugged?” I thought I was so powerful, so strong; that no one could beat me; that I would emerge victorious. What a fool I had been! They had not needed to fight me. I had been stupid. Well, I would not be so foolish again. My hands curled into fists.
“You saw the city fall?” Wynne asked.
Going over her, I peered from the window. The moon reflected on the polished metal of the fountain, so the courtyard seemed lit from below.
“The silver fountain!” I said excitedly. “Wynne, there’s a dagger made of jade, hidden in the base of the fountain. I need it to kill the Emperor.”
Wynne smiled. “Good. Finally, you remember.”
“The woman in my dream?” I asked. “Who was she?”
But she said nothing, and when I turned to ask again, I saw Wynne had disappeared.
That night I had the strangest dream.
Sarah sat on a boat, skirts tucked around her legs. Rebecca lay asleep beside her. The stars glowed bright and the canvas sails cracked in the wind and against the hull, waves splashed gently. Sarah took the globe from the bag, looked into the glass.
The carrysack had slowly emptied: A candlestick in Alexandria, another in Carthage. Merchants, sensing their desperation, had probably made a great profit on the golden ornaments. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered, except that Rebecca was alive and safe.
Inside the glass, stars whirled like motes of dust. That’s all we are, thought Sarah, just dust in a dry wind. She went to put the globe back into the sack, and then paused. Looked closer. Inside the glass she seemed to see a procession of slaves and treasures. She rubbed her eyes. Was that Shimon? Her husband’s head was shaven, his legs shackled by heavy chains and he carried a heavy object through a jeering crowd. The scene scattered, fragmenting like blown leaves even as she looked. And then the globe was empty of images and there were only the stars, whirling.
Rebecca stirred. Sleepily, she reached for the globe and the stars drifted toward her hands. In the glass Sarah saw a hill and a cliff and a proud man, smiling. Rebecca, face reflected in the curved surface, smiled back.
“He likes me.”
Sarah took the globe from her daughter, holding it tight against the movement of the deck. Along the horizon the sky began to lighten. The sun was rising.
“Dana,” whispered Wynne. “Are you ready?”
“Ready?” I mumbled. “What for?”
When she said nothing, I slid back into sleep. But the question lingered.
“Mother?” Rebecca asked.
“I’m fine.” Sarah straightened. “It’s just the waves.”
“Can I hold the globe?”
“No!” She snatched it away. Inside the glass the world shook. Rebecca’s surprised face. Shimon in shackles, the stars falling. Always, the stars, falling.
The dream shifted; the globe fell from Sarah’s outstretched fingers and rolled along the deck. Rebecca ran after it, like a child after a ball. My world rolls about me. Then Sarah bends
and picks me up and tucks me back into her sack.
I woke in darkness. The world seemed to be still moving – was I awake? Or was I still on the dream-ship?
My bed rocked and I heard a deep rumble, as though far below, in the center of the earth, a giant beast had woken. The room shook.
“Princess!” Rob’s hand grabbed my ankle.
I kicked out. “Let me go!”
“Dana!” they cried, all together now: Adianna, Phileas, Wynne, Rob, and Suzanna. And then, for good measure, Phileas beat a drum.
“Go away!” I wanted to sleep, dammit.
It was not a dream. The city rocked violently, like a ship in a storm. On the ceiling the lamp swayed; the world rumbled. Plaster cracked. I clutched at the mattress to stop myself falling to the floor. Roof tiles crashed.
In the distance I heard the sounds of a city breaking in half. Screams, cries of panic filled the air. The world turns. It seemed to last forever. It took no time at all. But when it stopped the silence was deafening.
Chapter Six
Seeing Blind
Every morning at sunrise Will tied the blindfold about his eyes and sparred back and forward across the deck with TeSin. At first all of Will’s attention was on the older man: listening for the sound of his feet, feeling for the heat of his breath. But as the morning progressed awareness fled away, until all Will knew was the movement of the waves and the lick of the wind until he barely thought at all, he just was.
Finally, they called a halt and flung themselves down on the deck. Resting in the shade of the sails, Will realized the truth. “I need to stop thinking.”
N’tombe, sitting with them, laughed. “I wasn’t aware you did.”
Will rolled onto his back. It was kind of pleasant, resting on the warm decking, feeling the gentle rock of the boat beneath his back. Far to the north lay a line of dark clouds. Looked like they were sailing into rain.
“We will make land soon,” she said. “In two, maybe three days.”
“We should return the boat.” Ma Evans wouldn’t release Jed until her vessel was returned. Jed might deny he was a hostage, but Will had his doubts.
“You are worried for Jed. Don’t be. He is well.”
Will half-smiled. Sometimes it was a relief to travel with a mind-reader, because then he didn’t have to explain the obvious. “Good.”
“But you are right. We should send the sailors and the Silver Queen back.”
Neither said anything about how they might return without a boat – an unspoken thought that this was a one-way trip.
TeSin, rubbing a bruised shoulder, squatted beside them. “You good fighter,” he said to Will.
“Although he still thinks of magic as something unnatural,” N’tombe added critically and pointed to the Noyan’s wooden staff. “Like a tool, or a machine. A weapon, to be wielded at will.”
“Isn’t it?” TeSin seemed surprised.
She shook her head. “What you call magic is nothing like that. Will, when in battle, what do you think of?”
He lay back on the deck, frowned at the sky. “I think about what he’s going to do next. Where my angles are, my openings.”
“And when you fight without vision?”
He paused. “I don’t know.”
“Thoughts flow?”
“In a way.” Strangely, Will felt uncomfortable admitting this. What happened in a fight felt personal, kind of like the feeling one had at church. Not that he went to church often.
“What you perceive as flow,” she said, “is what the world calls magic.”
“But–” Will frowned. He’d watched N’tombe call down a storm with her magic. He was only sparring with wooden staves. It hardly felt the same.
“It is the same. Most people close their minds off to the world; acquaint themselves only with what they can see with their eyes. But there is more than just the things we see and touch and smell. Will, when you have your eyes blindfolded, you become aware of these other things. We cannot see magnetic fields; we cannot feel them. Yet they still exist. We know this, because a compass responds to them. In a way, magic is like magnetism.”
“Dana calls it light.”
“She does see lines of light. Very pretty, I think. I do not see it as Dana sees. To me, it is a feeling, a connection; an awareness of the world.”
“You feel me?”
“Not just you. The ship. And the sailors, the sea, the birds in the sky.” She smiled. “Fish in the sea. The clouds. There is rain coming, Will.”
“The land,” he said amazed. “You felt the land.”
She nodded. “You do too.”
“No I don’t. I can’t feel the land. I can’t feel the bloody sea. Or the fish. What are you talking about?” Was she mocking him? “I am nothing like you.”
The Noyan stood silently, arms folded across his chest, gaze fixed upon Will. He looked somewhat like a statue of a warrior. “She is correct,” he said.
Will squinted up at him. “You’re telling me that you see it too?”
“Of course. Noyan train to see the world.” Abandoning the statue pose, the man squatted beside Will.
“You see the fish as well?” Will asked.
“Fish?” TeSin seemed amazed. “What fish? I see enemy. Always, I see enemy. If my eyes close,” – he shut his eyes – “then still, I see him.” He opened eyes and surveyed Will critically. “Better lose thought.” The Noyan patted Will’s stomach. “Think here.”
Will blinked. “You want me to eat more?”
“Ha! Not food.” TeSin tapped the side of his head. “Think here, always deciding. Too slow.” He patted his belly. “Here – is different.”
Will stared up at the blue sky. “If you say so.” He closed his eyes. The waves rocked the boat like a cradle. Think with a stomach? Will snorted. Ridiculous! He wondered what Jed would think of the idea. Somehow he thought Jed wouldn’t find it funny. “Think with my gut,” he said aloud. “That’s what you mean.” He opened his eyes. “Instinct.”
TeSin nodded, as though this was obvious. Will shut his eyes. He could do that. He could think with his stomach.
Later that afternoon, the weather changed. The pennant flag on the mast fluttered wildly and the air suddenly felt cold, and hinted of rain. The storm bell clanged loudly as the boat heaved in the swell.
“Civilians below-decks,” called the captain.
They scrambled hastily down the ladder, into the cramped quarters below. Hammocks swung and the air smelt of onions and garlic. Will swallowed. This was the part of sea travel he liked the least. TeSin, too, looked unhappy.
“I,” said N’tombe definitely, “will try and sleep.”
Will wanted to ask her about the fishes and how they felt now, but – as the ship heaved again – he decided that now was not the time for lightheartedness. He swallowed. No. Definitely not. TeSin scrambled for a basin.
The storm seemed to last for ages. The travelers lay in their swaying hammocks, suffering. At least, TeSin suffered, and his suffering definitely affected Will. N’tombe, though, appeared to do as she’d intended and lay with her eyes tightly closed, seemingly asleep. Will envied her.
He tried to sleep but the waves, crashing over the deck, dripped water through the decking and onto his face. Will thought about magic and nets and webs and feelings. He closed his eyes, and tried to feel the world about him. It was moving. It was wet. He couldn’t feel any clouds in the sky, or fishes in the sea for that matter. Can you feel me, whispered a sodden mermaid, and kissed him with salty lips.
Will woke with a start. The light had faded, and the sea seemed somewhat calmer. Beside him, TeSin lay in his hammock, face pale, eyes closed. Suddenly hungry, Will struggled from his hammock. As he was setting foot on the bottom rung of the slippery ladder N’tombe shouted, “No!”
TeSin started awake.
N’tombe struggled, twisting in the hammock’s weave. Her eyes were closed. “No! No!”
Tentatively, Will put a hand on her shoulder and sh
ook her until her eyes opened. Shockingly, tears dripped from her cheek. The enchantress was crying! What had she seen in her dream? Was it Dana?
“Madam? N’tombe? What can you see? Is it the …” he hesitated, “is it the princess?” Didn’t want to say her name. Saying a name was personal, saying a name made him think of the girl, bathing naked in the pond, the girl sleeping in his arms at night, the girl kissing him gently.
N’tombe wiped her eyes. “It’s all right, Will. It wasn’t Dana.” She took a deep breath. “It was Aunt Zissi.” She stopped.
“Your aunt? From your own world?”
“Yes. She –” she shook her head then awkwardly swung her legs over the hammock. “She’s in danger. I must go.”
“Go? Go where?”
“Home.”
“You cannot. Bright one needs you,” said TeSin’s voice from the darkness. Leaning awkwardly on an elbow, TeSin was watching them. “We need you.”
“My aunt needs me more,” she said and sniffed.
Will realized suddenly that N’tombe was still quite a young woman. He’d never seen her as young before; simmering with power, she seemed more like a natural force than a person, but of course she was a person, wasn’t she, and she had family like everyone else – everyone bar him, he thought bitterly – and doubtless she missed them. But N’tombe couldn’t leave! How would they find Dana without her? Besides, there were the magicians to overcome; he and TeSin could never fight the magic workers unaided.
“TeSin’s right,” he said. “We need you.”
“I thought she would be all right. Aunt Zissi is strong, you know.” She shook her head. “I never thought I would be away so long,” and now her voice was as wondering as a child’s. “I never thought I would travel so far.”
“What did you see?” he asked. “In your dream?”
She gazed over his shoulder, eyes distant. “Soldiers, with guns.”
“Guns?” He didn’t know that word.
“Never mind,” she said impatiently. “I saw soldiers in our village. They went house to house. They killed everyone.”
The SoulNecklace Stories Page 57
