Nigma (The Waifs of Duldred Book 3)

by Ana Salote

  During the night a storm sat overhead and threatened to split the cave. In the morning there were two triangles of blue above but the western sky still held a store of rain. Water poured into the gorge. They prepared to leave. Jefee wanted to go with them but Yehvo wouldn’t let her.

  ‘If I ain’t going with you, tell me what it’s about,’ said Jefee, ‘otherwise I can’t hardly bear it.’

  ‘Well you’ll have to,’ said Ferralee. ‘But I can tell you that whatever story you make up it won’t be half as stupid as the real one.’

  They departed with Ferralee setting a fierce pace. Gertie was tired. Tired of walking and tired of the company. She missed Gritty more than ever. In the afternoon it rained again and then the raindrops multiplied until there was more rain than air and so it went on for three days. Their clothes dragged and their feet were caked in yellow mud. During the worst of the downpours they found shelter among the rocks.

  Yehvo looked out from a shallow cave and bunched her mouth. ‘There’s been a lot of rain,’ she said.

  ‘I hadn’t noticed,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘So the river we’re due to cross...’

  ‘Might be a torrent,’ said Ferralee. ‘Wonderful.’.

  Yehvo unpacked the blasting powder. ‘Check the seals Gertie. Your eyes are better than mine.’

  Gertie turned it over in her hands looking closely at the tarred ridges. ‘If the seals weren’t good, wouldn’t it have blown up already?’

  Yehvo couldn’t argue.

  ‘So now you’re going to test them in a river,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘It might still be low enough to wade,’ said Yehvo.

  But it wasn’t. They left the gorge and crossed the narrow plain. As they neared the river they could see that it was high and churning with mud and debris.

  Yehvo stood with the river flowing fast at her feet. ‘We couldn’t be any wetter and it’s not far to swim,’ she said.

  ‘The current is strong,’ said Ferralee. ‘How well can you swim, Gertie?’

  ‘I’ve swum for my life twice,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Make that three times,’ said Ferralee.

  They walked along the bank searching for a likely crossing place. ‘Here,’ said Ferralee. ‘It gets no better.’ They rolled most of their clothes and fixed them to their bags. Ferralee tightened the strap of her bag across her chest and slid into the water. The current spun and dragged her to a place where the bank curved inward. Ferralee caught at a tree root and held fast. She stayed there with one arm hooked around the tree. ‘The current is strong,’ she shouted. ‘Don’t fight it. Let it carry you here.’

  ‘Go on then, Gert,’ said Yehvo.

  Gertie sat down in the mud and slid. The water seized her and turned her one way and then the other. Gertie flailed and gasped. She lost all sense of up or down until she washed up against something hard and felt Ferralee’s grip on her arm. And then her hands and feet were holding onto roots and pushing against Ferralee and she was scrabbling in mud and somehow she crawled up the bank. Her underdress clung flat to her belly and thighs. She spat weed and coughed.

  ‘Come on Yehvo,’ she shouted. Yehvo hit the water, was swept to the middle and went under. Gertie had the better vantage point. She scanned the water frantically. ‘I can see her,’ she shouted. ‘Down there. She’s gone again, into the white water.’

  Ferralee pulled herself onto the bank and ran beside the water. She was fast as a horse. Gertie caught up in time to see Ferralee dragging Yehvo out of the river.. The old woman lay without moving. Ferralee sealed her nose and blew into her mouth. Yehvo coughed and breathed.

  ‘You’re bleeding,’ said Ferralee.

  Yehvo clutched her shoulder. ‘Bashed a rock,’ she said.

  ‘You lost your bag,’ said Gertie.

  Yehvo sat up and felt behind her. She struggled to her feet and looked into the river. ‘The blasting powder. Cussed water.’ She looked downstream. ‘It will wash up somewhere.’

  ‘Blow up more likely,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘If we can’t find it we’ll get some more,’ said Yehvo.

  ‘The Felluns won’t let you near a blasting shed again,’ said Ferralee.

  Yehvo put her hand out dizzily and sat back on the ground.

  Gertie crouched next to her and picked twigs from her hair.

  Ferralee paced beside them. ‘You tried but you were always going to fail. It’s time to go back.’

  ‘What’s to go back to?’ said Yehvo.

  ‘I’ll talk my way back in to the fort and I’ll insist you come with me as my maid.’

  ‘Your maid?’

  ‘You won’t have to do any maiding. You can live in ease and Gertie can go back to her library where she belongs.’

  ‘No,’ said Yehvo. ‘I can’t let all those people down. What do you say, Gert?’

  Gertie shook her wet hair. ‘I know I should be pleased to go back to the library.’ Yehvo held her breath and waited. Gertie looked into her eyes and went on. ‘But, if we’d believed in “fail” back in Duldred we would never have escaped. We believed in “try”, and that changed everything: one day we were serfs, the next we were free.’

  Yehvo squeezed Gertie’s shoulder.

  Gertie and Yehvo searched half a drun downstream for the blasting powder. Ferralee walked indifferently beside them. They did not find it.

  ‘Are you ready to come back with me now?’ said Ferralee.

  ‘Yes,’ said Yehvo, ‘but not yet. I’m an old fool. The dream that drove me is broke and I’m broke with it but there’s one more thing I want to do before I die, Ferralee. I’m not far off four names, too old to make this trip again. Now I’ve come this far I want to travel on past the dam. I want to see the Cheelah running free.’

  ‘So I’ve come all this way to help some old woman on a goodbye-to-life tour,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘Might as well finish the job then, eh?’ said Yehvo, grinning.

  Ferralee sighed. ‘This is the last stop. Then we’re done.’

  ‘Done,’ Yehvo agreed. ‘Definitely done.’

  They turned towards Carnoffel.Yehvo hung back with Gertie. ‘If I don’t keep my word I’m a turkey’s wattle,’ she said. ‘There’s another quarry above the dam. We’ll get some blasting powder there.’

  12 Rigaw visits Fettapigi

  The Wurr Pass remained blocked by bears. Bruin was not alone. Other bears joined him. Rigaw and Skulp had no choice but to go back the way they had come. They stopped at the village of Dysma to see what Fettapigi could do to help them. Where her shack had been there was a rectangle of blackened earth. Rigaw asked a Chee child what had happened to the hag.

  ‘Riches come to her, Capun. That’s her new place under the crag. Forced three families out, she did.’

  Rigaw strode across the dusty square. He ducked under a greasy canvas and made a sound of disgust. It was a new home yet it looked and smelled as though it had been lived in forever by a family of diseased pigs. The smell was of souring damp and fur-mouthed dying breath. The shelves and corners were silted with dirt. Dust balls were sprigged with feathers, insects and matted hair. All the surfaces were fire-blacked, smoke-tanned and layered with grease.

  ‘This place is disgusting,’ said Rigaw with his arm across his nose. ‘How do you make so much filth?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Fettapigi. She opened her hand. Black dust accumulated in her palm. She brushed her hands together, letting the ash fall. ‘Will you sit down, Capun? Can I get you some refreshment?’

  ‘I wouldn’t eat here if there were echoes between my ribs.’

  Fettapigi took a step towards him.

  ‘Don’t come near me,’ Rigaw warned.

  ‘Didn’t I treat you well last time?’

  His hand went to his jaw which throbbed at the memory. ‘I’ve killed others for less.’

  ‘It worked though didn’t it?’

  ‘Maybe it did. I went into the Kith and the dam didn’t break, but I never believed in the Nondul curse anyway.’


  ‘Why did you come to see me then?’

  ‘Just in case.’

  ‘What about the doll I gave you, the one we named Ijaw?’

  ‘It did the trick. A bear killed him. I can’t stand this smell. We’ll go outside.’

  ‘No privacy there, Capun.’

  ‘None is needed.’

  Fettapigi followed him outside disturbing the children who stood with their ears to the canvas. She spat at them and cursed them with itches. The children began to squeal and scratch.

  ‘So, what can I do for you, Capun?’

  ‘There’s a runaway child.’

  ‘The hareboy.’

  ‘You know about him?’

  ‘We hear things, Capun, even this far out. In fact he and his friends came to visit.’

  Rigaw swore and kicked the tethering post. Fettapigi told him about her encounter.

  ‘The Fellona wants him for quarry,’ said Rigaw. ‘That’s all she wants. So I, who should be taking slaves and land, have to chase around after a single boy.’

  ‘How close have you been, Capun?’

  ‘Close. I had him at Wurr Pass but a bear got in the way. I have lost ground. He must be slowed. Is there a curse for hobbling?’

  ‘There’s a curse for everything, but this one is risky. Hobble him too well and he’s no use as quarry. Not enough and he gets away.’ Fettapigi pondered. ‘I will use the Dresh to slow them down.’

  ‘How will you do that?’

  ‘I will send darkness to her mind. That will slow them just as well as a sprain. I have looked into her eyes and seen her weaknesses. I know what to do.’ And to prove it she looked into Rigaw’s eyes, through his coldness, past his anger and spite, to his fear that without power he was nobody at all. Like a bully she held him down in his mind till he admitted that she was stronger and he was nobody, then she released him.

  ‘I would kill you if you weren’t of use to me,’ he said. He lifted a bag of coin from his pocket.

  She cupped her hand. ‘A purse for a curse?’

  Rigaw held the bag out of reach. ‘First I need to know which way he is headed.’

  Fettapigi had no powers of divination but she was clever. There was nothing human in her; she could not feel for people but she could read them. The Dresh were singular, stubborn creatures, bonded by the strongest bonds to home. The Cracnazy was mazy and far from Fellund. It would make a perfect hiding place for the hareboy.

  ‘He is going to Cracnazy, Capun,’ she said as she took his money.

  13 Scorpit Sands

  The sands on the edge of the Cracnazy were wine red; they glittered as though glass grapes had been smashed and crushed to a powder.

  ‘The Cracnazy was born a red mountain,’ said Lil, ‘but the rock was soft. The weather stripped it, and here it is, a pile of sand. When it rains it turns green.’

  Gritty picked some up and spat on it. ‘It does too.’

  ‘The sun dries it back to red,’ said Lil.

  Oy let the sand run between his fingers. ‘There’s specks of gold and green in it.’ He put some in his pocket.

  ‘If that’s for Linn, Oy, I’d get some on the way back,’ said Gritty.

  ‘We need to get there before we talk about getting back,’ said Alas. ‘Looks like a four day walk across these sands.’ He shook his flask. ‘We got ’bout enough water to do it, but no more. You say there’s water in the Cracnazy, Lil?’

  ‘Yes but far in. We must cross the sands in two days.’

  ‘We’ll have to walk through the night,’ said Alas.

  ‘I won’t sleep in open ground anyway.’

  ‘Is that the reason you want to rush it?’ said Alas.

  Lil’s jaw tightened with impatience. ‘Die of thirst if you want to,’ she said. ‘I walk on.’

  ‘Looks like we’re in for a stretch of walking,’ said Gritty.

  ‘I never asked for company,’ said Lil.

  They set out into the desert. The top layer of sand lifted and smoked around their ankles. The sand grew deeper and the walking harder but Lil did not cut her pace. The waifs kept quiet; their mouths were dry and their faces damp with sweat.

  It was a relief when the sun set with the most splendid colours.

  ‘We should stop and eat,’ said Alas.

  Lil did not object. She stood aside and nibbled on her withered greens alone. The others sank to the sand and unpacked the food. They faced the sunset and ate as the colours changed.

  By the time they had eaten it was almost dark. Lil came and stood over them. ‘I take it you’re ready,’ said Alas. ‘I guess it makes sense to keep moving now it’s cooler. We won’t need so much water.’

  The sand cooled beneath their feet. The desert was profoundly silent. Lil was untiring. Her ears were tilted towards the stars.

  ‘Are you listening to the stars, Lil?’ said Gritty.

  ‘I don’t say what I’m listening to,’ said Lil, ‘but I’d rather it wasn’t your voice.’

  There was no talking on the second night. The waifs sleepwalked. The mass of the Cracnazy grew steadily, pulling Lil to walk faster. The waifs were almost running to keep her in sight. Oy stumbled and went down. Gritty called to Lil to come back. She came reluctantly.

  ‘I’m alright,’ said Oy.

  ‘No you’re not,’ said Lil. ‘You’re slurred. Lie down.’ She began to walk away.

  ‘Where are you going?’ said Gritty.

  ‘Over there,’ she said. ‘I’ll stand till he has rested.’

  The waifs lay down. They broke the warm surface of the sand to feel the cooler layers against their skin. ‘You still there?’ Gritty called.

  Lil’s voice came back faintly. ‘Didn’t I say I’d wait? Why does everything have to be repeated?’

  The silence blanketed them. Sleep was irresistible. Even Lil dozed. No one heard the rasping and clicking till the biting began.

  The waifs cried out in pain. They jumped to their feet; they shook their arms and legs, but the things that had come out of the sand were clamped tight. Saws and razors moved inside beaky jaws. The sands around them seethed; the snapping sounds multiplied to a deafening clatter. And then the clatter was obliterated. A siren strobed the desert. The creatures’ shook inside their shells. The biting jaws turned slack and useless. The snappers dropped to the ground and dragged themselves weakly back to their burrows. The dawn light showed the waifs bleeding from wrists and ankles. Where their blood fell the red sands turned green. Oy attended to the wounds.

  Lil had a bruised upper arm. The thing that had attacked her was dead. Lil’s siren had shaken its insides to liquid. Alas prodded the jaws and claws with the toe of his boot. ‘They’re like snapping scorpits,’ he said, ‘only redder.’

  ‘Vicious things ain’t they?’ said Gritty. She pressed Alas’s skin together while Oy used the clotting salve from his bag.

  ‘I don’t like how the edges are turning white,’ said Oy. ‘It could be poison.’

  ‘I do feel a bit sick,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Is it me or is there a dark ring round everything?’ said Alas.

  ‘Drink whatever water you’ve got left,’ said Oy. ‘It will help to wash the poison through.’

  The flasks were light. There was barely a swallow in them.

  ‘My mouth’s dry as this sand,’ said Gritty.

  ‘We need more water,’ said Alas. ‘We’d better move fast.’

  They walked as fast as they could but the walking turned to weaving and then to staggers. Before they reached the edge of the sands all three of the waifs had fallen into a dead faint.

  They woke in a space walled by rocks. Their heads were thumping and the world they saw was viewed through dark glass. Full flasks were lined up next to them. Lil made them drink. They drank and vomited and drank again. When they couldn’t drink anymore they sat shaking while Lil explained what had happened.

  ‘Oy went down in the desert, and you two had gone within ten more paces. I carried two out then went back for the ot
her. I followed my own tracks back to Alas. I fetched water from the Ganny and here we are.’

  The waifs thanked her. Gritty studied Lil.

  ‘You needn’t look at me like that,’ said Lil. ‘I didn’t go to all that trouble out of fondness. I said I’d see you as far as Craicanmar and I will.’

  ‘What’s the Ganny, Lil?’ Oy asked.

  ‘You’ll see,’ she said.

  Lil led them around the southern border of Cracnazy so they could fill their flasks before entering the dry mazes that led to Craicanmar. The sun was high in a vast luminous sky. It burned the clouds and dried their mouths as they breathed. Flies wrote jagged shapes in the air; they buzzed and bombed the travellers. A plain extended south. Its furthest edge was slashed with water.

  Gritty fanned her face. ‘We ain’t got to go all that way for water have we?’

  ‘No,’ said Lil. ‘The Ganny is near though it doesn’t show itself to all.’

  Lil headed purposefully towards a spot on the plain where some rocks shelved upwards. Beneath one of the rocks was a gap.

  ‘Have a look down there,’ said Lil.

  They took turns to stick their heads through the gap.

  ‘Is it a well?’ said Oy.

  ‘No, it’s a lake,’ said Lil.

  ‘An underground lake,’ said Gritty. ‘You’d never guess. How far does it spread?’

  ‘It doesn’t spread out,’ said Lil. ‘It spreads down. It gets no wider than my two arms stretched, but it’s deep. It has no bottom that can be known.’

  ‘It must have a bottom,’ said Alas.

  ‘Flanner-speak,’ Lil mocked. ‘Dresh learn early what something with no bottom sounds like. I fell over the first time I sounded these deeps. When you can sound the Ganny and stay standing you’re finished with learning.’

  Gritty peered into the water. ‘Imagine sinking and sinking and never stopping.’

  ‘What does it sound like?’ said Oy.

  ‘Freedom,’ said Lil. ‘A thing without a bottom is free.’

  ‘Free to... to play,’ said Oy.

  ‘Nondul-speak,’ Lil approved.