by James Roy
She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to find some strength in the dark behind her eyelids.
›››A mill yeah. A mill yeah
Amelia’s eyes sprang open. The voice, much clearer this time, had cut through the gabble in her head, and this time she had no doubt at all. It was Stelka.
With one last fluttery breath, she stepped forward through the arch.
The dark was cold on her skin, like a heavy fog. The small courtyard was empty, apart from a broken earthenware water pitcher half-leaning against the far wall. To her left was a narrow flight of stairs, which led into another alleyway, as dark down there as the night before a winter dawn.
Pulling her cloak closer about her, Amelia headed down the steps and along the dim alley with the dark, enchanted sky a strip of blackness overhead. Stopping and squinting, she tried to see the end of the lane. She couldn’t. Either it was too dark to see that far, or there was no end to it. Endlessly long, and deserted.
Unless… unless something was watching her from the doorways, stoops and windows that glared empty, like the eye sockets in a skull. Somewhere quite nearby, something fiendish let out a long, caterwauling cry, and further away came the sound of a scream. Then a laugh, long and insane, followed by some kind of moan.
She jumped at the sound of the sudden words. ‘Ye look lost, wee’un,’ a wheedling, rust-edged female voice said, from very close by. ‘Are ye sure ye’re no lost?’
Amelia tried to calm her breathing and her pounding heart. She felt sure that she must have screamed, just a little, but she couldn’t remember doing it. ‘I’m not lost,’ she said, her voice weak. ‘Thank you.’
‘Well ye look lost. Are ye sure ye’re no meant to be going home for ye supper? Ye ma would be waiting. Be a dreadful shame to keep ye ma waiting.’
‘I don’t have a ma,’ Amelia replied.
The voice tutted. ‘Shouldnae have told me that, wee’un. I might’ve taken pity, had I thought ye had a ma waiting at home wi’ supper on the table for ye. But since ye donnae…’
‘I don’t want trouble,’ Amelia said, as strongly as her breathless state would allow. She peered into the blackness of the shadows, trying to see the face that belonged to the voice. ‘I just need to see someone.’
‘Is that right? Well, out with it, wee’un – who is it ye need to see so badly? I cannae make no promises, mind.’
‘I’ve come to see Dorissa.’
There was a pause. When it next spoke, all the twisted playfulness had gone from the voice. It was now deadly serious. ‘What do ye want with Dorissa, wee’un?’
‘It’s between her and me.’
The voice was stern. ‘No yet.’
‘Are you able to take me to her?’
‘Give me three reasons why I shouldnae turn ye back.’
Amelia thought. ‘I’ll give you four. One, Dorissa and I are old friends. Two, Stelka is in danger. I’m sure you remember Stelka, who used to be Chief Navigator before everything changed. Dorissa is the only person I know who can help me find her. Three, if I find Stelka, I think I might be able to find my other friends, Tab and Torby. And four, I think Florian is behind all these disappearances.’
‘Why didnae ye start wi’ that one?’ the voice said. ‘Since ye make such a strong case, I figure I can take ye to see Dorissa. But be warned – ye’d best no be jesting me, wee’un.’
‘I’m not, I promise,’ Amelia said.
‘Very well.’ From the darkness of a stoop to Amelia’s left, a figure began to emerge. Amelia found herself gasping, then trying to cover it. It appeared that the voice of the old woman belonged to a child. Its grimy face was covered with sores, and large patches of its thin hair had fallen out.
‘What’s the matter, wee’un? Have ye no seen a Fallowclann before?’
Dumbly, Amelia shook her head.
‘And ye call yerself a magician!’
‘I haven’t been a practising mag… Hang on, how did you know I was a -?’
‘Well ye’re either a magician, or ye really are lost! And ye seem to know what it is ye’re here for.’
The Fallowclann turned, raised both her stubby little hands as high as she could and snapped her fingers. In an instant the lane was lined on both sides with the sickly glow of lamps on tall poles. Amelia gasped. The two rows converged far off in the distance. It seemed that the laneway really was endless.
‘How does that work?’ she said. ‘The edge of Quentaris is less than a hundred feet in that direction, but this street is… is forever long.’
‘Ye’re a slow learner, and that’s for true,’ the Fallowclann said. ‘These days there’s more magic in this wee lane than in all of Quentaris. Florian and his soldiers wouldnae dare come down here. I’ll bet they wish they’d thrown us all over the side when they had the chance. Come on, wee’un, best ye hurry along wi’ me, before someone less friendly spies ye and figures ye’d be good eating. Och, donnae look so terrified – I’m jesting wi’ ye!’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Amelia said as the child with the old woman’s voice began to lead the way between the endless lines of wan lamplight.
They travelled for what felt to Amelia like an awfully long time. In the lamp-lit street, the sounds of cruel, raucous laughter drifted about, mixed in with cries and calls. As they walked, Amelia noticed that most of the windows they walked past were completely dark, like almost everything else in Skulum Gate. But once in a while they would pass a window with some light behind it. Unlike the pale light from the lamps overhead, the light within these windows was weak, but warm, like a small flame. A candle, perhaps, or an oil-burning lamp.
‘Someone’s home,’ she said as they passed one of these, but the Fallowclann didn’t respond.
Still they continued on. The buildings were so similar – made more so by the darkness – that after a while Amelia began to wonder if they were walking in a huge circle, and passing the same windows all over again.
‘Are we nearly there?’ she asked the Fallowclann eventually.
‘Aye, best ye donnae ask me that again, wee’un,’ the old child-woman said.
‘Sorry. It’s just…’
‘We’re here.’ The Fallowclann stopped before a small doorway, which was shrouded in shadow. Through the window beside the door Amelia saw some of the weak but warm light she’d seen earlier.
‘This is where I’ll find Dorissa?’
The Fallowclann nodded, and pointed. ‘In ye go, then.’
‘You’re not coming in with me?’
‘Nae, I’ll no come in. Me and Dorissa are no the best of friends.’
‘Really? But she’s… well?’
‘In ye go,’ the Fallowclann said again, nodding towards the door. ‘It’ll no be locked. Not for yeself.’
‘Will you wait out here for me?’
‘So I can walk ye back? Are ye daft in some way? It’s no hard to find ye way out!’
‘I see. Well, thanks for bringing me down.’
The Fallowclann gave a half-hearted shrug, turned and headed back the way she’d come.
Taking a deep breath, Amelia put her hand on the door handle. It was so cold against her palm, and it tingled with frustrated, fermenting magic. ‘Courage, Amelia,’ she whispered. She twisted the handle, and with a clunk, the door swung open on creaky hinges.
The room was almost completely bare. The walls were white, but grimy and empty. The light within the room came from a single candle burning low in a large rack-like candelabrum in the corner. The candelabrum had once contained row upon row of candles – hundreds of them – but now there were barely a dozen or so left unburnt. The hundreds that had burnt out were now nothing but deformed globs of melted wax in their holders. Apart from the candelabrum, the room contained nothing but a bed, with a chest at its foot.
A very small, very old woman with long, white hair lay in the bed. The tissue-papery skin of her face was starkly pale against her plum-red dress, which had the remains of some tattered embroidery and beading st
ill attached to it. She turned her head as Amelia opened the door and looked in.
‘Yes, child?’ the old woman said.
‘I’m… sorry,’ Amelia stammered. ‘I think I’m in the wrong room.’
‘Who are you looking for?’
‘I’m looking for Dorissa. She was… she’s a magician.’
‘Only for a little longer,’ the woman replied. ‘Amelia, it’s me. I’m Dorissa.’
Amelia frowned, and took a step closer. ‘Is it… No, it can’t be
…’
‘I’ve changed, haven’t I?’ Dorissa said. ‘It’s all right – you can say it.’
‘Then yes, you’ve changed. A lot. When I last saw you, you were
…’
‘Larger?’
‘I was going to say younger.’
‘It’s this place, Amelia. It’s Skulum Gate. We age faster here. See that?’ Dorissa said, pointing with her eyes at the remaining candles. ‘That’s all I’ve got left.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When the last candle burns out…’
‘No!’
‘Yes. So you’d best talk fast.’ Dorissa struggled to sit up, and Amelia rushed over to help her. ‘Amelia, you shouldn’t have come. You’re in great danger. And staying here for a few moments will take days, perhaps even weeks or months off your life. So please, Amelia, say what you came to say and leave.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Amelia, when Florian came to power, he knew that he needed to keep some magicians around, but only those he could control, like Anira, or those that would be too obviously missed.’
‘Like Stelka.’
‘Yes, like Stelka. But he couldn’t be seen to be killing off all the other magicians, so he gave us our own place… this place, Skulum Gate. But it was enchanted, and our process of aging has been sped up. One thousand candles, they gave each of us. Yes, they burn slowly, but it’s still not enough. And some burn faster than others.’
‘Can’t it be stopped?’
‘You want to stop magic of this kind?’ Dorissa’s clear blue eyes filled with tears. ‘If only I knew how. The street outside that door was once filled with people like me, magicians you would have known. Escalayn, Angard, Aylia, all bedridden now, like me.’
‘Not dead?’
‘Not yet, but it won’t be long. Died of old age, Florian will say.’
‘What about the baby-woman who showed me here?’
Dorissa sniffed. ‘Moreon?’
‘That was Moreon? She was one of my tutors for a while! I should have picked the voice. Why didn’t she recognise me?’
‘She probably did, Amelia, despite the disguise. Down here we get used to seeing people looking older than we remembered them. But she’s most likely ashamed, and wouldn’t have wanted to be recognised by you. There is a handful of Fallowclann in Skulum Gate. They dabbled in crooked magic a while back, and turned back part of the ageing process, but they went too far. They could go back to the outside world, but they’d be considered freaks. They’d never survive, especially with Florian at the top of the pile. And not just Florian – the other one.’
‘Janus?’
‘Yes, that’s him. He knows far more magic than he lets on.’
‘He’s just Florian’s chief advisor,’ Amelia said.
‘Is that what he calls himself? Well.’ Dorissa snuck a glance at the candle. ‘My dear Amelia, you really should tell me what you came for. I wouldn’t want you to come to any harm.’ She patted the side of the bed. ‘Sit.’
Amelia sat. ‘Something terrible’s happened,’ she said. ‘They’ve taken Stelka.’
Dorissa nodded, and patted Amelia’s hand. ‘Yes, I know.’
SACRIFICE
The dark, glassy orbs hung in the water, their pale gaze fixed on the scout-pod and its four occupants.
‘There are so many of them,’ Tab murmured. ‘What do we do now, Verris?’
‘We need to speak with them.’
‘Are these black things the Yarka themselves?’
Verris shook his head. His eyes were fixed on the orb directly before them. ‘No, they live in those things. I think.’
‘And what do they look like?’
‘Like that,’ Danda said. She was facing the other way, and Tab and Verris turned to follow the direction of her gaze. Shadowy figures were moving through the water. They were semi-transparent, like krill, but about the size of a large cat. Their antennae streamed behind as they propelled themselves through the thick water with impossible speed, and their eyes glistened blackly as they swept closer. There were twenty of them, perhaps more, and they swarmed around the pod. Then, one by one they settled on the deck and the railing, their heads moving from side to side as if they were watching Tab and her companions with first the right eye, then the left, then the right again.
‘Aren’t they going to say anything?’ Tab said under her breath.
‘They are saying something,’ Danda replied. ‘You can’t hear them?’
‘No. What does it sound like?’
‘Listen,’ Verris said. ‘It’s a bit like the sound of bubbles, only very high-pitched.’
Tab listened. For a while she heard nothing, but then, gradually, she began to hear the language of the Yarka.
‘They’re asking by what magic we’ve been able to come here,’ Danda said.
‘And what have you told them?’ Verris asked.
‘I’ve told them nothing. I’m simply the interpreter. What would you like me to say?’
‘Explain that we have magic that allows us to come underwater without the need for air. But don’t let them know that even we don’t understand that magic,’ he added.
There was a moment of quiet as Danda spoke in the high, bubbling voice. Then, after the Yarka had replied, she turned back to Verris.
‘They say that they don’t mean how did we come to be in the water – they want to know how we came to be in their world,’ she said with a wide sweep of her arms.
‘Tell them that we came through a vortex. Do they have a word for that?’
‘I’ll work something out,’ Danda replied. More bubble-speak followed. ‘Now they want to know what we want.’
‘Tell them that we would like to buy icefire from them.’
‘You want to just come out and say it?’ Danda asked. ‘No… getting to know them? No exchange of gifts?’
‘The gifts come later,’ Verris said, and Tab saw his eyes go to Torby, just for a moment.
‘Very well.’ Danda returned to her translating, but something she said made the gathered Yarka stir from the railing and deck like seagulls rising for a morsel of food. ‘They didn’t like the part where I mentioned icefire,’ she explained.
‘Perhaps we should have worked up to that,’ Verris said. ‘Very well, apologise for my haste. Tell them that we mean them no harm, but that we wish to come to an arrangement that benefits all of us.’
Danda spoke, and a moment later came back with a reply. ‘They wonder why you’ve come to them for icefire,’ she said. ‘They said that they have no icefire.’
‘Are you sure you translated it properly?’ Verris asked. ‘The orders were very clear – we were to trade with them for icefire. Perhaps you got the word wrong.’
‘No, I didn’t get it wrong,’ said Danda irritably. ‘I made no mistake in the asking, and I made no mistake in the hearing. They were quite clear – they don’t have icefire.’
‘I think I see the problem,’ Tab said. She’d opened the book to the orders and was rereading them. ‘It doesn’t say icefire at all. It just says “gemstones”. Our mission was to trade with them for their powerful gemstones.’
‘Tell them that,’ Verris said. ‘Ask them what kind of gems they possess.’
After a period of conversation between Danda and the Yarka that seemed to Tab to go on for far too long, Danda turned back to Verris. ‘They’re pretty angry,’ she said. ‘But I’ve managed to keep them calm for now. They want to know
why we want their fire-crystal.’
‘Fire-crystal?’ Verris snapped. ‘Icefire? That means the same thing!’
‘It might sound like it, but I’m assured that it’s very different indeed,’ Danda said. ‘And they don’t like to give up their fire-crystal easily. Without promising anything, they want to know how many stones we need.’
‘Three.’
Danda communicated this with the Yarka. Then, after more discussion in the strange language: ‘They’re still not happy, but they are prepared to consider. They want to know what we’ve brought to trade.’
‘You know what to tell them,’ Verris said grimly.
‘No!’ Tab grabbed Verris by the arm, and the Yarka stirred again at the sudden movement. ‘No, you can’t let them have Torby!’
‘Enough, Tab!’ Verris said. ‘Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Danda, tell them.’
As the message got through, the Yarka began to stir with excitement, and those on the deck began to skitter and sidle towards Torby, lying silent and wide-eyed on his side.
‘Verris! You can’t! There has to be another way!’
Verris’ eyes were sad, and Tab felt sure that if they hadn’t been submerged, tears would have been rolling from them. He took her arm and led her to one side, which seemed strangely unnecessary, considering that the Yarka couldn’t understand what he had to say.
‘Tab, we both know that there isn’t any other way. They won’t let us go unless we leave someone behind, in which case we’ll all die. Even if they allowed us to leave, we couldn’t return to Quentaris without these gems. If we did, Florian would have us thrown straight back over the side, and they’d send someone else down here with Torby. Besides, it says in those orders that Quentaris’ future relies on us getting these gems.’
‘But at what cost?’ Tab asked. ‘Are you sure there’s no other way?’
Verris’ gaze settled somewhere on the middle distance as he thought. ‘Unless…’