They walked in a line with the golem at the fore, the sound of its ragged, heavy breathing the only clue that it was still there. Sal held Shilly’s hand, guiding her along, and Skender clutched the back of her Novitiate uniform so he wouldn’t lose her in the dark. Tom followed him, then Aron.
Their footsteps were muffled by sand. No echoes returned to them from either end of the tunnel. The tunnel didn’t turn or alter its steady rate of descent. It simply angled downward, as straight as an arrow, into the earth.
It was a relatively easy descent, but one that was, in its own way, more horrible than the last. Shilly had no reference points to judge her progress against. They could have been travelling miles or barely metres, caught in a charm that made them feel as though they were making progress when in fact they were going nowhere at all. The slope seemed to grow steeper and steeper even though she knew it wasn’t changing. As air was sucked up into the maelstrom of steam behind and above them, a clammy breeze rushed past, seeming to get colder the deeper they went.
Shilly had never been truly cold. Winters along the section of the Strand known as Gooron were wet but not frigid. She’d never known it to snow there; even light morning frosts were rare. What she called cold, she knew, other people further south considered positively balmy. Whether the chill sinking into her bones came from the breeze or from dread, she didn’t know. Before long, though, she was shivering.
I’m glad we’re on the same side, Sayed Hrvati…
Had the golem been talking about the deal Sal had made with it, or was there another layer of meaning entirely?
She wished Sal hadn’t thrown the globe away, and not just because it was all she had left to remind her of Lodo. In doing so he had robbed them of light when they needed it most. She didn’t know what they would do when they reached the bottom of the tunnel and needed to see where they were going. And what if something attacked them out of the darkness?
The last thought didn’t worry her so much. What might be hiding in the blackness at the bottom of the tunnel wasn’t what scared her. The thing taking them there was worse than anything she could imagine.
Instead she concentrated on following Sal’s hand down into the dark. Sal’s use of the globe had taken her back to the time Skender had shown them how to waken it in the Keep—the time she had almost drained Sal dry by Taking from him. The old feelings of resentment and jealousy were still there, lurking below the surface. She suspected part of her would always feel that way about him, but her feelings for him had always been complex. He was normally so passive that every time he acted—as he had had to in order to resist the golem—it startled her anew.
“Scared.”
The voice came down the chain of hands from someone behind her. She didn’t recognise its source.
“Is that you, Tom?” she whispered back.
“Not me,” the boy replied. “I think it was Aron.”
“Aron? But—” She stopped, not wanting her surprise to either alarm or offend Sal’s cousin.
“I didn’t think he could speak,” said Skender, not so quick on the uptake.
“Is that you, Aron?” Sal asked.
“Scared,” repeated the voice, its plaintive tone at complete odds with the size of the speaker. Mentally Aron sounded like a child. “Cold. Tired.”
“I’m sorry, Aron,” said Sal, and Shilly felt a flood of remorse flow along the connection between them. “We’re here with you. You’ll be okay.”
“Home?”
“Not yet, Aron. There’s something we have to do first.”
“Hungry.”
“I know, Aron. I’m hungry too, and thirsty.”
Shilly squeezed Sal’s hand as reassuringly as she could. She did her best to repress any feelings of anger she felt for Aron’s family, who in all the weeks she’d travelled with them had never mentioned that Aron was talented in the Change. They probably didn’t even know. They probably assumed that a lack of ordinary voice meant a lack of everything else.
“We have to do what the bad man says,” she told him, “or he’ll hurt us.”
“Bad?”
“He hurt Sal. On the beach. Remember?”
“Hit Sal.”
“That’s right, Aron. That’s the bad man. We don’t want to get into any more trouble with him. Can you put up with it for a little longer?”
Shilly clearly felt Aron’s unwillingness through the link between them, but he acquiesced with a simple affirmative. She sent him all the approval she could muster, hoping that feelings would carry more weight than words he half-understood.
If only, she thought, her own fears could be so easily suppressed.
“Thanks, Shilly,” said Sal, whispering to her alone.
“Don’t thank me. It’s the least I could do for that poor kid.”
“Do you really think it’s going to be that simple? We do as the golem says and it’ll let us all go?”
His uncertainty ran as deep as hers. She wasn’t sure how she was supposed to pick him up without knocking herself over.
“It can’t kill all of us,” she said, hating what she was about to say. “Lodo’s body is weakening. We’re all fit and healthy. The moment it tries something on one of us, we can overpower it, I’m sure.”
“It felt strong enough to me,” Sal said, the ache in his jaw and head all too clear through the link.
“Maybe, but remember what happened before, when it collapsed. The golem is holding its act together by will alone. It can’t do that forever.”
Sal was silent for a long time. All she could hear was breathing and the shuffling of their feet as they descended into the depths of the earth. The golem hadn’t complained about the talking; maybe there was less of a threat in this new tunnel. Certainly she felt none of the formless malignancy that she had before. This was just a long, cold hole.
With what at the bottom? she asked herself. The Goddess only knew.
“When this is over,” Sal said, “we deserve a holiday.”
She smiled in the dark. “You’re on. Have you got anywhere in mind?”
“Somewhere quiet.”
“And boring.”
“A long way from anywhere.”
“Sounds perfect.” She shifted her grip on his hand so their fingers interlinked. “Once we get through the Way—”
She didn’t finish. Sal stumbled in the dark, and would have fallen but for her holding him upright. He came to a halt to gather himself.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Fine.” Aloud, he said, “There’s a step here. Be careful. I think the floor levels out after it. We must be at the bottom.”
Shilly felt forward with her crutch. There was indeed a sudden drop-off, as Sal had said. She stepped carefully and waited as Skender followed. One by one they stepped down. It was an obstacle that, by daylight, would have been trivial, but in darkness was potentially dangerous.
“How many more of those are there, do you think?” Shilly moved gingerly along the new stretch of tunnel. Sal was feeling his way ahead of her, one hand on the wall, testing every step before making it.
“I don’t know,” he said, still aloud. It was clear in his voice that this wasn’t the greatest of his concerns.
“I can’t hear the golem any more,” he said to her privately.
“What?”
“I think it’s gone.”
“And left us here alone?” Her mind recoiled from the thought. “It wouldn’t do that. It needs us.”
“I know—but how else do you explain the fact that it’s not here?”
She couldn’t. She could only stumble forward blindly, letting momentum carry her. This was their chance to turn back if the golem had really gone. But what if it was a trap? What if it was just testing them, and was waiting to strike out of the darkness if they didn’t do as they were told?
> They had come so far. Exhausted though she was, the thought of turning back now, with their destination possibly just around the corner, made her feel sick to the stomach. If everything went well—and there was still a chance that it might—she could end up with Lodo in her safekeeping and a means to take him away from the people who had kidnapped him and the city in which golems walked, looking for people to take over.
Sal stopped again. Shilly could feel him groping along the wall ahead.
“What is it this time?” The tunnel had narrowed around them. An echo of her voice came back at her immediately.
“There’s a corner.”
“Which way?”
“Left. But the tunnel keeps going straight as well. I don’t know which way to go.”
“Do you know, Mawson?”
“No,” said the man’kin, “this place is beyond my knowledge, and the stones do not speak of it.”
“That’s just great,” said Skender from behind them. “Now what do we do?”
“I don’t know.” Sal sounded as though he was close to panic. “I don’t know!”
Everything stopped. Indecision gripped them as the echoes of Sal’s frustrated cry faded into oppressive silence. They could pick a tunnel at random, but where would that leave them? There could be pits and other intersections waiting for them whichever way they went. What if they got lost? Shilly dreaded the thought of lingering in the cold, windy tunnels any longer than she had to. The thought of being trapped forever, paralysed her.
A soft shuffling sound came out of the darkness ahead of them. Something was coming toward them.
“Scared,” said Aron again. Shilly couldn’t have agreed more. She tensed, ready to turn and run as best she could up the tunnel. There was a wordless cry of fear just behind her lips, clamouring to be let out.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” said the golem suddenly out of the darkness.
Shilly almost wet herself. “You—” She bit her tongue on an old fisher’s curse. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“Where have you been?” demanded Skender, a hysterical edge to his voice.
“I left you some time ago to scout the way ahead. The catacombs here are vast and easy to become lost in—unless you know the trick. I wanted to check that I still did, and that the way was clear.” The golem was enjoying their reaction. “It is safe to proceed.”
“Let’s get it over with, then,” said Sal.
“Hold my robe and do exactly as I say. The slightest misstep will lead to your ruin.”
Shilly was glad it wasn’t her who had to clutch the golem close as they headed off once again, ignoring the left turn and heading forward. She could feel the chill of the close contact echoing along the line through Sal. Between it and the cool wind still blowing past them, she wondered if she would ever feel warm again.
“Left.
“Keep going straight.
“Stay to the side along here; there’s a pit to the right.
“Now straight again, then right. Duck your head.”
The last caught Sal off-guard, and Shilly felt his pain as a low, stone lintel caught him across his temple, close to where the golem had struck him on the beach. His reactions had been getting steadily more sluggish, and this stopped him completely for a good minute.
“Sorry,” he said when he had recovered. “Are we almost there?”
“Yes,” said the golem.
“Good. I’m getting dizzy with all these turns.”
Shilly could sympathise, although thus far the golem had led them well. Her anxiety had shifted from worrying about its motives to making sure she followed its directions to the letter. They had passed tunnels from which foul stenches blew and skirted pits that seemed infinitely deep in the dark, treading carefully on the sandy floor. It was easy to believe that, as the golem had suggested, the slightest slip could indeed kill them.
“I can see something!” Skender suddenly cried. “Look!”
He took his hand off her arm to point ahead. Sure enough, there was a faint, yellow patch ahead, and two vague shapes where Sal and the golem stood silhouetted against it. There was something strange about the light and the way the golem was moving, but she couldn’t immediately tell what it was at first.
Sal let out an enormous sigh of relief. “Where’s it coming from?”
“From the Tower,” the golem explained, turning left around a sharp corner. “You can see it?”
The light was definitely brighter from their new perspective. It was coming from up ahead, although its source was still out of sight.
“Of course we can see it,” said Skender. “Can’t you?”
Shilly realised only then what was odd about the golem’s movements. The light was dim, but already bright enough to see the outline of the tunnel by. The golem, however, was still walking as though blind, feeling its way and gingerly testing the ground before it.
“I can see something,” said Tom, “but only just.”
“Pretty,” said Aron.
The light wasn’t ordinary light, she realised. It was the Change, or some by-product of it that she hadn’t seen before. Tom couldn’t see it properly because he hadn’t come into his talent yet; Aron could see it because he was old enough for his talent to wake, even if he never used it. The golem, although it could sense the presence of the Change and was drawn to it, was clearly immune to some of its effects.
At last, she thought. We have something it doesn’t.
“Do you want us to lead you?” asked Sal.
“No,” the golem hissed, its hood swinging blindly to face them. “You do not know the way.”
“We can see the way,” said Skender. “You go up here, then turn left. From there, just follow the light.”
“I think we should do as it says,” said Sal, surprisingly. “It’s not bright enough to see that well, yet.”
Skender muttered something, but didn’t push the point.
“Keep to the left,” said the golem, resuming the fumbling journey in its private darkness. It was hunched over like a cripple, hands splayed out before it, testing every inch. They shuffled along behind it with increased impatience.
The light was indeed brighter when they turned the corner. Shilly could make out worn marks on the tunnel walls: long, undulating lines in pale blue and ochre that stretched before and behind them like intertwining snakes. Her fingertips failed to register their presence, as though they were part of the stone rather than painted on.
They skirted another trench—and found it somehow more terrifying for the fact that they could see its black mouth gaping at them—then turned two more corners. They had let go of each other’s hands by then, and walked alone, confident in the light. It shimmered slightly, like sunlight through water, but had a hot, almost mirage-like quality to it as well.
As they rounded the final corner and found themselves in the chamber of the Tower, Shilly realised for the first time just how still everything had become. The cold wind was gone. The air hung around her in veils, warm and waiting for the slightest push to set it in motion again. There was a pregnancy to it—or, she thought, a latency. The Change was thick all around her, suspended in mid-act. It filled the enormous room like air in a balloon, ready to pop at any moment. Even without the Tower hanging impossibly before her, she would have known she was in the right place. The very heart of her resonated with the ambience of the place.
The chamber was shaped like a tunnel, or a grain silo tipped on its side. She couldn’t make out how long it was because the ends tapered to points, making it look like it continued to infinity. It was easily twenty metres across. They were standing on a wide ledge along one side of the chamber, halfway up the curved wall and directly opposite the Tower.
The Golden Tower. Her mind struggled with the reality of it—if it was real, and not an illusion cast by the Change filling the
chamber. It matched the proportions of the chamber perfectly: a long cylinder tapered at both ends, hanging in the exact centre of the room. It was golden, as its name suggested, but it glowed with the gold of sunflowers—crisp and rich—rather than cold and metallic. Its surface was carved with strange whorls and loops resembling fingerprints. Either the tower was rotating or the patterns were crawling slowly across its surface, drifting as clouds do across the face of the sun. It was utterly alien and beautiful at the same time.
Mixed with Shilly’s awe at seeing it was the memory of the warning she had received in Fundelry: beware the Golden Tower. Faced with the Tower itself, finally, she could appreciate that it might be sensible to be cautious. She couldn’t imagine how they were supposed to open it.
“Wow,” said Skender, “that’s amazing!”
“It’s…not what I expected.” Sal sounded stunned, and with good reason.
“Is it real?” asked Tom.
“As real as you or I,” Mawson replied, unexpectedly.
“What does that mean?” asked Shilly, turning to look at the man’kin. The expression on the great bust’s stony face was one of rapture. With eyes closed and head tilted back, Mawson seemed to be drinking in the magical glow around them.
He didn’t answer, and didn’t protest as Aron turned in circles to admire the view, swinging the man’kin from side to side, golden light shining in his eyes.
A scrabbling sound distracted her. The golem was feeling its way, crab-like, across the face of the nearest wall as though looking for something.
“Can we help?” she asked.
“No.” The harsh, irritated negative in Lodo’s voice stung her as it always did. She would never get used to that. It continued searching, then seized on a patch of wall that looked little different to any other. Its fingers traced out an oval shape in the stone, taller than Lodo but not much wider. The walls of the chamber were smooth and dusty, apparently carved from solid sandstone. The golem’s fingers left a faint line behind, creating a shape that looked uncannily like a door.
“This is the place,” said the golem, shuffling back from the wall. Its hood had half fallen away, and Shilly saw a naked hunger on the stricken features of the man who had once been her teacher. The golem’s eyes, although unseeing in the strange light, were blazing with eagerness. “This is where you must open the Way.”
The Storm Weaver & the Sand (Books of the Change) Page 24