by Garth Nix
Across the chasm, they passed through a narrow, winding tunnel. Milla noted holes in the ceiling, useful for throwing stones or pouring hot liquid on intruders. With the chasm and this narrow way, the Freefolk were well defended. Though Milla doubted any of it would be much use against determined Chosen, with their Spiritshadows and Sunstone magic.
Since Tal had never mentioned the Freefolk, she suspected that the Chosen either didn't know about the Underfolk rebels or simply didn't care about them, as long as they didn't cause too much trouble.
The narrow tunnel finally opened out into a vast cavern, easily three or four hundred stretches in diameter and more than a hundred stretches deep. A
few old, pinkish Sunstones shone in the distant ceiling, creating an effect like an Aeniran twilight.
There were six or seven fairly dumpy cottages arranged in a circle in the middle of the cavern, centered on a large open well, with clear water lapping over its sides into a gutter. A few buckets were stacked next to the well, and there was a pile of barrels, boxes, and other containers in a walled pen behind the houses.
It didn't look like much. It certainly didn't look like a fortress.
"The Fortress of the Freefolk," announced Ebbitt, with a grand gesture. "Or Temporary Digging Camp Fourteen as it was once known many, many, many caveroach lives ago."
"Where do we take Tal?" Milla asked. The Chosen boy was heavy and, though she would never admit it, Milla was tired.
"Oh, I suppose I can give him the antidote here as well as anywhere," said Ebbitt. He took a small vial out of one of the deep pockets of his multilayered robe and added, "Just lay him down and support his head."
"You have the antidote on you?" asked Milla. "You had it all the time? Why didn't you use it before?"
"The poor boy clearly needed his rest," said Ebbitt, looking down on his great-nephew.
Milla shook her head. She knew there was no point in getting angry with Ebbitt. He was like some of the older Crones. His mind was traveling somewhere else where no ordinary Icecarl--or Chosen--could follow.
She and Gill laid Tal down and then held up his head. Ebbitt bent down and opened the sleeping boy's mouth with two fingers, poured in the contents of the vial, pinched Tal's nose, and said, "Shake him up and down a bit."
Milla and Gill followed his instructions. Nothing happened at first, then Tal coughed. The cough was followed by a sneeze, suffocated by Ebbitt's nose-clasping fingers. Then Tal's eyes slowly opened. He was groggy, but after a minute or so he could stand up on his own.
At the same time, Adras came around and sat up, scratching his head.
"Why did you wake me up?" he said aggrievedly to Odris. "I was having such a good dream. I was shooting lightning at moths and every time I hit one they exploded with smoke and sparks--"
Odris slapped him, shadowflesh meeting shadowflesh with a strange rasping sound.
"I thought you were dying!" she said. "And you're worried about a stupid dream!"
"Where are we?" asked Tal. His voice was weak and he felt terrible. He was sick in the stomach and shivery all over.
"The Freefolk Fortress," said Ebbitt.
"The Cavern of the Freefolk," said Crow at the same time. "Call it by its proper name."
He pushed past Ebbitt and stalked off toward the largest of the cottages. Inkie scuttled after him. Clovil and Ferek hesitated, then followed. Gill stayed behind.
As Crow approached the cottage, the door opened and two grown men in the painted Underfolk robes came out. One was quite old, as old as Ebbitt, but he was much shorter and quite shriveled and dried-up-looking. He had gray hair, cut so short it was a stubble. The other man was about the same age as Tal's father, Rerem, though he was much brawnier. He looked like the sort of Underfolk who did the heavy carrying around the Castle. His chest and upper body were easily twice the size of Tal's. His hair was black and long.
As Tal looked at the younger man, he realized he had to be related to Crow, and might even be his father.
There was a strong facial resemblance and though Crow was not physically as big yet, there was every indication he would be one day.
Crow raised his hand in a formal-looking salute, but only the older man waved back. Tal was surprised to see Crow lean forward and hug his brawny relative, but the man did not hug him in return.
"We have brought four prisoners," Crow said to the older man, loud enough for Tal and Milla to hear easily. "Two Chosen and two Spiritshadows."
"I'm not a Chosen," Milla declared. "And I'm not a prisoner."
Tal didn't say anything. He didn't feel up to it. Besides, after his experience with the Icecarls he had started to think that silence was the best policy when meeting anyone new.
"Neither am I," said Odris. "And Adras isn't one, either."
"One what?" asked Adras. He was rubbing his stomach and hadn't been listening.
"Prisoner. You're not a prisoner of anybody!" said Odris.
"Sure." Adras looked across at Tal and said, "Can you try to feel better? Your shadow is making me feel sick. It made me sleepy before."
"It's the spider bite," Tal explained. "So you were unconscious, too?"
"And asleep," Adras answered. "I fell over right after you did."
Crow and the other Freefolk were talking to the old men, but Tal didn't listen. He was too interested in what Adras had just said.
"I wonder if this spider poison…" he said aloud. Then he turned to Ebbitt and said, "Uncle Ebbitt? Could my mother be ill because she's being poisoned with water spider venom?"
Ebbitt scratched his head, and discovered a blue crayon that had somehow gotten tangled there. He looked at it in a puzzled way and said, "Yes. I hadn't thought of that! I don't know how you would get the venom out of the spider. But constant small doses would make her very sleepy, and if continued, would force a coma. Yes, it explains the symptoms. But how to milk the spider? I suppose some sort of harness and then a vacuum apparatus. Good thick gloves, a stick to whack the critter with…"
His voice trailed off into a mumble as he continued to think aloud.
"Gref must have been poisoned, too," said Tal. He was thinking furiously as he became more alert. Both his mother and Gref poisoned with water spider venom… Sushin must have access to the spiders. Perhaps he even had some tame ones somewhere…
Tal shuddered at the thought of Sushin cuddling up with water spiders. But he was also suddenly hopeful. Now that he suspected what was being done to Graile and Gref, he could possibly get them the antidote.
His thinking was interrupted by Crow shouting something and stalking off to one of the other cottages. He opened the door viciously, went through, and slammed it shut so hard that some rock dust fell from the distant ceiling of the cavern.
The two men watched him go for a moment. Then the older man walked up to Tal, with the black-haired giant following him a pace behind. As they approached, Tal realized the leader looked familiar, though he had never seen him in the robes of an Underfolk… that is… a Freefolk.
"Greetings, Tal and Milla, Odris and Adras," the man said. As Tal heard his deep, measured, vibrant voice, so out of place coming from the little body, he remembered where he'd seen him before.
"I am called Jarnil, and I am the leader of the Freefolk," said the old man.
Tal blinked. He knew this man by his full name. He was the Brilliance Jarnil Yannow-Kyr of the Indigo Order, once Chief Lector. He had taught Tal when he was a little boy.
He had also been dead for at least five years.
CHAPTER TEN
Tal still remembered the announcement at the Lectorium of the Chief Lector's demise. An accidental death, they'd said, without giving any details. Since any sort of fatal accident was unusual for a Chosen, the children had talked about it for some time, trying to imagine exactly what had happened.
"You're supposed to be dead," Tal burst out.
Jarnil smiled, but it was a bitter smile that did not light up his eyes.
"That was the story they
spread," he said. "It was almost true."
He raised his arm and Tal saw that his hand twitched and jerked as if it had a life of its own, beyond Jarnil's control.
"I was taken to a place you… you know of," said Jarnil. "After Fashnek had finished with me, my supposedly dead body was thrown out to be removed by the Underfolk. That was Fashnek's mistake, for I was dying, not dead.
"For many years I have secretly coordinated the activities of those Underfolk and Chosen who wish to change the way we all live in the Castle. Some of the Underfolk who knew me were on the burial detail. They brought me here and nursed me back to… well, I suppose you could call it health."
"What do you mean Underfolk and Chosen who want to change the way we live?" asked Tal. He was shocked by the idea. He didn't want to change anything. He just wanted everything to go back to normal, with his father and mother at home, with Gref and Kusi. Obviously things would have to change with the Underfolk--and the Icecarls--but perhaps it could be a slow change. Though even as Tal thought that he knew it was too late. Everything was going to change and he might as well get used to it.
"Exactly that," said Jarnil. "This is Bennem, by the way."
Bennem gave a kind of grunt and nodded a fraction. He seemed about as friendly as Crow. Now that he was closer, Tal thought he wasn't old enough to be Crow's father. Perhaps he was an older brother.
Jarnil kept on talking as he led them to the nearest cottage. Surprisingly, inside the door there were steps leading down to a comfortable, Sunstone-lit cellar room that was much larger than the cottage above it. A thick red rug in the center of the room was surrounded by low cushions of white and gold. Jarnil sat down and gestured to everyone to sit as well. They all did so, except for Ebbitt, who prowled around the outside, and the Spiritshadows, who floated up to the ceiling to circle the Sunstone set there.
"Where was I?" continued Jarnil. "There is sweetwater in the jugs over there. Help yourselves. Ah, yes. There have always been some Chosen who believe that the Underfolk are no different than we are, save for the accident of their birth. Why should they be kept in ignorance of Sunstone magic, and of Aenir? We called ourselves the Sharers of Light. Similarly, there have always been some Underfolk who have questioned why they should be servants of the Chosen. Though there is some, ah, variation in their aims, they generally call themselves the Freefolk. Together, we hope to change things so that it is possible for capable Underfolk to rise up to Red and become Chosen."
"But you will still have your thralls," said Milla. Her tone of voice showed that she didn't think much of the Sharers of Light.
"Thralls?" asked Jarnil.
"Slaves," replied Milla.
"No, no," said Jarnil. "You don't understand. We cannot change everything. Change must be introduced slowly. We are still loyal to the Empress. All we want to do is test and train Underfolk, and those who show potential to become Chosen will be raised up. Then they may begin their climb to Violet."
Tal shook his head. This all sounded like a Lector's theory, not something practical. Even after only a few moments of thought he knew it wouldn't work
"Why were you taken to the Hall of Nightmares?" he asked.
Jarnil coughed and a faint hint of redness touched his cheeks.
"I made… er… two serious errors of judgment," he said quickly. "Progress was slow in recruiting Chosen to the Sharers of Light, and I had made contact with only a few isolated bands of Freefolk in the lower depths. So I decided to put my plan for raising up Freefolk to the Empress. My first mistake was to share the exact nature of my plan with the Dark Vizier who recorded my request for an audience with Her Majesty. I
was granted an audience for the following day. But that night, I was taken…"
His hands shook even more and he had difficulty getting out the last words.
"To the Hall of Nightmares."
"The Dark Vizier?" asked Tal. he'd never heard of that office. "Who is that?"
"What are they teaching in the Lectorium these days? The Empress has always been served by both a Light Vizier and a Dark Vizier, one for the day and one for the night. Traditionally the Light Vizier deals with ceremony and celebration, while the Dark Vizier deals with matters less pleasant, those best left unseen in darkness. The identity of the Dark Vizier is always kept secret, and he or she is disguised as a Chosen of lesser rank, while secretly holding the highest rank in the Violet Order. As is traditional, I met the Dark Vizier in a room where I stood in brilliant light and he in darkness. It was there I made my second mistake…"
"What was that?" asked Tal as Jarnil stopped speaking and stared into the distance.
"I looked back at the doorway as I left," said Jarnil. "The Dark Vizier was careless. He had stepped half out of the shadow, so that the light fell upon his face. I recognized him, and I was fool enough to show it."
"Who was it?" asked Tal.
"I think you know," said Jarnil. "Someone who can speak with the authority of the Empress, command her guards, make other Chosen do his will, all without Her Majesty's knowledge?"
"Sushin!" Tal exclaimed. "But why? What does he hope to gain?"
"Good question," interrupted Ebbitt. "Very good question. When you find out the answer, let me know."
"We do not know what drives Sushin," said Jarnil. "Or to what end. But he has clearly been working toward some evil purpose for many years. I thought I knew him once, but even before my `disappearance' he had become strange and distant. A different man from the one I used to know."
"He is not a man," said Milla, stirred by the image of Sushin laughing with the Merwin-horn sword thrust through his chest. "I think a Spiritshadow lives inside his flesh. An old shadow that has not forgotten the ancient war between our world and Aenir. A shadow that wants to lower the Veil and remove the darkness that protects us. I am sure of this, and I will tell the Crones, so that we Icecarls can do what must be done. I must go back to the Ice."
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Silence greeted Milla's words, but it was the silence of disbelief, rather than shock. Jarnil even smiled a little, the same smile Tal had seen when a Chosen gave a particularly stupid answer in the Lectorium.
Tal opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Half of him wanted to protest, to say that Milla was mad, that she had no idea what she was talking about. But the other half wanted to scream out, "Listen to her!"
What she had said did make sense. Maybe Zicka the lizard in Aenir had been telling the truth about an ancient war between the Aenirans and the peoples of the Dark World--Chosen and Icecarls. Something was being done to the Veil, something that Tal's own father had been caught up in, as
Guardian of the Orange Keystone. But what was a Guardian? What did the Keystones do?
Tal was about to ask a question about Keystones when he finally noticed something else.
Jarnil had a natural shadow. His Spiritshadow was gone.
"Your Spiritshadow!" gasped Tal, his question forgotten. "What happened to it?"
Jarnil looked down, his natural shadow mimicking the movement exactly, better than any Spiritshadow ever could. No Spiritshadow was that flexible, unlike the shadowguards of children.
"I don't know," he said, the pain of his loss clear on his face. "I believe it was somehow forced to return my natural shadow, which bound it to me, and was then killed, or returned to Aenir, or--"
"Or signed on to serve the good ship Sushin," interrupted Ebbitt gloomily. "Or Fashnek."
"What?" asked Tal. "You mean they took your Spiritshadow and made it serve Sushin?"
"I fear so," said Jarnil. "Fashnek certainly had more than his own Spiritshadow to do his bidding."
"He has three by my count," said Milla. "As well as the one that carries him. You Chosen have let these shadows in, and they will destroy the veil and let in the sun. I must go swiftly to tell the Crones. Who will guide me to the heatway tunnels?"
"All in good time, all in good time," soothed Jarnil. "Let us share our knowledge first. What is t
his talk of the veil being destroyed?"
"Drunkards talk while warriors work," spat Milla. She got to her feet and glared at the Freefolk. "I know what must be done."
"Yes, yes," said Jarnil. "Gill will take you in due course. Do we have plenty of airweed?"
The last question was directed at the Freefolk girl. She nodded and showed the strand that was tucked through her belt.
"The others have more, too," she said. "And there are six barrels to pick up later."
"Airweed?" asked Milla. "What for?"
"Like it says. Airweed for air," said Gill. She indicated one of the bloated nodules. "These hold air. You can tap them with a knife and breathe from them when there is poison air or smoke in the tunnels. That's how we rescued you before."
"Good," said Milla. "Then we will go."
"No!" Tal shouted out. "Wait! Maybe you're right about the Aenirans, and the ancient war and everything, but shouldn't we at least see if Ebbitt,
Jarnil, and Bennem know anything the Crones need to know?"
Bennem grunted as his name was mentioned again. Tal looked at him in surprise. The surprise turned to pity as he realized that Bennem's eyes were empty, that they were not focused on anything.
Ebbitt noticed him looking.
"He was carried to the Hall with a cry and a shout," Ebbitt explained. "Twice he went in, and twice came out. But what went in was more than this, and what didn't come out we'll sorely miss."
"He means that my brother was taken to the Hall of Nightmares twice. His body came back but inside he is dreaming. He knows his name and simple things. Sometimes he wakes fully, but only for a minute or two."
It was Crow speaking. He stood halfway down the steps, with the others behind him. Tal had not heard them come in.
"Our parents did not come out of the Hall," he added, looking straight at Tal. "So you see we have much to thank the Chosen for."
Tal couldn't meet his gaze. He couldn't look at Bennem, either. A strange feeling gripped him, a coldness in his stomach. It was guilt, he knew.
"Tal is no longer a Chosen," said Milla. "He is an Outcast. You cannot blame him for the evil of his former clan."
