The Waterless Sea

by Kate Constable

  four

  The Captive Children

  CALWYN DROPPED TO her knees on the glaring-white roof of the tower. The child stared at her with wide, terrified eyes, but did not move. A low, continuous growl issued from it, like the warning growl of a frightened animal. But Calwyn knew that this was no animal’ s sound: it was chantment, the throat-song of ironcraft. The child was singing. This was the song that had drawn Calwyn and Halasaa here.

  The child was so filthy, so thin and ragged, that Calwyn couldn’ t tell if it was a boy or a girl who peered at her through a tangle of matted, dirty hair. In one corner of the roof was a pot, and the stench that rose from it was indescribable. Beside the child was an earthenware water jug, the plainest, shabbiest object Calwyn had seen in the Palace.

  Calwyn held out her hand. ‘I’ ve come to help you.’

  The child shook its head, still growling out that low, almost inaudible chantment.

  ‘What’ s your name? Can you understand me?’

  This time the child nodded. But the big eyes were still wary, and the ceaseless chantment droned on.

  ‘I know you can speak,’ said Calwyn. ‘I can hear you singing.’

  The child reached up a skinny paw and pushed back the tangle of hair. ‘Can’ t stop.’ The words were whispered so low that Calwyn had to lean forward to hear them, and the chantment began again at once.

  ‘You can’ t stop singing?Why not?’

  ‘Palace will fall.’

  ‘But you must sleep, you must stop to eat and drink.’

  The child shook her head – Calwyn was almost sure it was a girl – and a look of panic came into her eyes.

  Gently Calwyn asked, ‘Are you Shada?’

  At this, the girl gave a moan. Her hands crept to her mouth, muffling the chantment, and she began to rock back and forth. Her eyes were fixed on Calwyn’ s face with a new expression, part greedy hope, part terror. A single tear trickled down her face, leaving a trail in the mask of dirt, and dripped onto the roof.

  Calwyn moved nearer, trying not to alarm the child. ‘Heben sent me to find you. He’ s here, in the Palace. We’ ve been searching for you, and your brother.You’ re safe now, we’ ll take care of you.’ She held out her hand, but the child batted it away, and shook her head more vehemently than ever.

  ‘We’ ll take you, we’ ll hide you. You’ re safe now!’

  The girl, Shada, broke off her drone of chantment just long enough to mutter in a fierce whisper, ‘No! Can’ t! He knows. If I stop, he –’ ‘He?You mean Amagis? Is he the one who keeps you here?’ Calwyn’ s mind was busy. Did Keela know what was hidden behind the little doorway in her rooms? She dismissed the thought; theThird Princess was too shallow and too frivolous to be involved in anything like this. ‘Come with me,’ she urged.

  Shada shook her head again, singing softly, her eyes filled with tears, and she gestured to her grubby feet.

  Calwyn stifled a cry. The child’ s feet had been broken. Calwyn knew something about injuries and healing. Skilfully and deliberately, someone had snapped the bones. Shada could not run, nor walk; she could not even stand.

  Calwyn touched the child’ s thin arm. ‘The Emperor is dead. The Court is in chaos. This is our best chance to save you.’

  Shada’ s dry lips never ceased moving, the soft growling never paused, but slowly she nodded her head. ‘My friend can heal you. Don’ t be afraid. He’ s waiting for us, just down the stairs. Be brave. I’ ll carry you down to him.’

  Calwyn put her arms under the child’ s frail body and lifted. Shada gave a cry of pain, and bit her lip. At last the chantment fell silent. The child was small, and Calwyn was strong, but she staggered under the sudden weight.

  Shada whispered, hot and urgent, into her ear. ‘The others? He’ ll kill them! He’ ll know I’ ve stopped, he’ ll come!’

  ‘You mean the other children?’

  ‘There are five of us, five came from – from the Black Place.’ She shuddered, and hid her face in Calwyn’ s shoulder.

  Calwyn stood in the harsh sunlight, thinking hard. ‘Five chanters, like you? Only five?What about all the other chanter children?’

  ‘They’ re in the Black Place. There are only five of us here, all over the Palace.’

  ‘With their feet broken, like you?’

  A grimace, something like a smile, flitted across Shada’ s face. ‘Locks and chains can’ t hold ironcrafters.’

  ‘But why – why keep you here, like this?Who could be so cruel?’

  Shada peered into Calwyn’ s face. ‘We sing, night and day, all the time. We keep the Palace whole. We take turns to sleep.’ Her eyes were huge, staring urgently into Calwyn’ s. ‘If we don’ t sing, the Palace of Cobwebs will crumble into dust.’

  Calwyn took a breath, but there was no time to wonder at it now. ‘We’ ll find the others, we’ ll take you all away. The Palace will have to fend for itself. But we must hurry.’

  Staggering, she stooped before the dark doorway. Shada cried out. The stairway was so narrow that they couldn’ t fit inside it together. Calwyn thought rapidly. She set the child down, and tore off her stiff outer skirt. ‘We’ ll make a sled. In Antaris, where I come from, we slide down the snowy hills on sleds – of course, I’ m forgetting, do you know what snow is? Here, sit on the skirt, and I’ ll pull you down the steps. It will hurt, Shada, I’ m sorry –’ But the child understood. ‘Like a sandskin, for sliding down the dunes,’ she said. Her dark eyes were large with pain as she shifted herself onto the folded square of fabric. Calwyn was careful, but it was a rough, bumping journey down the winding stairs. And slow – so slow. One step at a time, they descended, down through the thickening darkness.

  ‘Halasaa, oh Halasaa –’ Calwyn wasn’ t sure if she said the words aloud or only called them with her mind, but at last an answering call sounded inside her head.

  I am here.

  ‘I have the child. I have Shada.’ He was just ahead of her, waiting at the place where the stairs widened. His hands reached out and held her firm. Calwyn let go her grip on the folded skirt, and steadied herself against the cool stone walls. ‘She’ s hurt, Halasaa. Her feet. . .’

  Calwyn could just see him in the dim light, kneeling before the frightened child. Gently he picked up one of the small feet and held it between his thin brown hands. Shada gasped, and flinched. ‘No – no!’

  ‘Halasaa won’ t hurt you, Shada, I promise.’

  Be still, little one. Halasaa’ s calm, reassuring voice sounded in both their minds, and then Calwyn heard, for herself alone, Who would hurt a child like this?

  ‘I don’ t know,’ she said helplessly. ‘It must have been Amagis. They are Keela’ s rooms, but I’ m sure she knows nothing.’

  He has broken more than her bones. Her heart and her mind are damaged also.

  ‘Can you heal her?’

  Halasaa nodded. The injuries to the spirit are more serious than the broken bones. But I can help her. Already his quick caressing hands were moving over Shada’ s foot in the silent magic of healing, the Power of Becoming that belonged to the Tree People. Calwyn sat back against the cold stone and allowed herself to rest. Her hands tingled, and her head buzzed with the pleasant, familiar sensation of chantment. As she watched Halasaa’ s deft movements, she felt herself fall into a kind of dreaming trance, and unconsciously she began to move her own hands in an echo of his. Such a precious gift he had, this dance of healing, and he was the last to know its secrets. . .

  She became aware of a noise in the rooms below. Instantly alert, she shot a look at Halasaa, but his face was severe with concentration. There it was again: a faint rustle of robes on the stone floor. Perhaps the servants had come back to fetch one last bundle of mats.

  Quickly, without disturbing Halasaa, Calwyn crept downstairs to the little doorway. Rods of light pierced the shadows of the staircase; like everything else in the Palace, the door was made of carved stone, and there were tiny chinks in the carving. Calwyn put her eye to one of the gap
s.

  For a moment she saw nothing but the empty room. Then a swish of black crossed her vision, and she fell back, heart thudding. It was Amagis, his gaunt face hard with anger, and he was striding purposefully toward her.

  She took one step back and began to sing, a swift quiet chantment of ice. Praying that he couldn’ t hear her, she sang up ice all around the door, to hold it fast in its frame. Even before the song was complete, the sorcerer reached for the handle. Calwyn sang on, to reinforce the spell, her mind working frantically. She knew she had trapped them, but somehow she had to hold off the sorcerer until Shada was able to run.

  Amagis rattled the door, expecting it to swing open. Then he swore and pounded on the door with his fists. Tiny splinters of ice flew from the door frame. Calwyn took a step back, then another, singing under her breath.

  Calwyn.

  Halasaa and the child were behind her. Shada was on her feet, eyes wide with terror.

  ‘It’ s him,’ she whispered. ‘He brought us from the Black Place.’

  Amagis’ s fists pounded on the door, a regular double thumping. Then Calwyn heard the sound she’ d been dreading: a low throat-song, the gurgled notes of a chantment of iron. Amagis was tearing down the wall around the doorway; bit by bit, it crumbled away. Calwyn sang on, blocking the gaps with ice. More and more light flooded into the narrow stairwell. She could see Amagis’ s grim face clearly now, and his hands raised for the chantment.

  Suddenly Calwyn flung her arms up and sang out strongly, a different chantment, a song of the winds. She blew the door away. The force of the wind caught the sorcerer utterly by surprise; Calwyn glimpsed the shock on his pale face as the door hit him with full force. Its top edge clipped him beneath the chin and knocked him flat.

  ‘Run, run!’ Calwyn sprinted across the empty room and out into the maze of corridors. Halasaa hared after her, pulling Shada by the hand. The little girl stumbled, her legs weak from long imprisonment. Halasaa scooped her up onto his back, and ran on, fleet-footed, barely breaking his stride.

  Calwyn ran blindly. On an ordinary day, the Palace hummed with activity: there were concerts and parties and assignations, couples met and sighed in the courtyards, music wafted through the winding corridors, there was the sound of laughter and the swish of robes. But now Calwyn and Halasaa ran through deserted corridors and galleries. Calwyn dropped her gloves and kicked off her dainty sandals so she could run barefoot.

  Mica spun around as they burst into Heben’ s rooms. ‘Where were you?We been worried sick!’

  ‘Shada! ’ Heben gave a choked cry, and gathered the little girl just as Halasaa set her down. Shada flung her thin arms around his neck and clung to him.

  ‘What’ s goin on? I been out, but no one knows what’ s happenin, not even in the kitchens, and they know everythin. They said the Emperor’ s dead, and no one wants the First Prince to be Emperor, and the Army wants the Fifth Prince instead, and the rebels are comin to kill everybody. . .’ Mica paused for breath at last.

  Calwyn ducked behind a screen and stripped off what remained of her heavy court garments, the stiff bodice and rustling petticoats. No more posing as a courtly lady now. She pulled on her own loose shirt and trousers. It felt so good to stretch her legs and arms, to know that she could run and climb and leap!

  ‘I don’ t know what’ s happening, but we can’ t wait,’ she said, as she laced her boots. ‘We have to find the other children.’ She put her hands to her head. Half the pins and combs had tumbled out, all the careful coiffure ruined. She shook her hair free, then with fingers as quick and deft as Halasaa’ s, she braided it into her customary heavy plait and threw it over her shoulder.

  ‘I know where they are!’ Shada dropped from Heben’ s embrace, though she kept her hand wound firmly in his tunic, and his arm was tight around her thin shoulders. ‘But how long before he wakes up? Or. . .’ Her voice lowered, heavy with the weight of hope. ‘Did you kill him?’

  ‘Amagis,’ Calwyn explained to Heben and Mica. She pictured the black-clad body, spread-eagled on the floor. ‘He cracked his head, but I don’ t think he’ s dead.’ Her eyes sought confirmation from Halasaa’ s.

  He shook his head. No. Not dead.

  ‘Then we have to hurry!’ There was panic in Shada’ s voice. ‘He’ ll hurt the others! He says, if one of us stops singing, the others –’ She began to sob, terrible dry-throated sobs that racked her frail body. ‘We came here together, and we’ ll die together, he says. He says, if one of us tries to kill ourselves, or get away, the others will all die! That’ s what happened to the five who were here before us. . .’

  Heben knelt and tried to soothe her.

  ‘We’ ll find em!’ cried Mica, eyes flashing. ‘We’ ll get to em afore he can, won’ t we, Cal?’

  ‘Four more,’ said Calwyn. ‘Hidden all over the Palace. All hurt, with their feet broken, and worse. . .’

  Heben said nothing, but his arms tightened around Shada.

  ‘Heal them, hide them, take them out of the Palace, all without being discovered.’ Calwyn passed a hand over her eyes. If they can be found, they can be healed. If they can be healed, they can be taken away. Halasaa’ s warm hand gripped her shoulder. Have courage. We have come so far. We cannot abandon them now.

  ‘No. No, of course not.’ Calwyn shook herself.

  ‘I know where they are,’ said Shada again, staring fiercely from one to another, as if daring them to change their minds. ‘Ched is in a tower above the Autumn Quarters, not as high as mine. Haid and Vin are together, down in the dungeons. And Oron’ s in the heart of the Palace, the very centre.’

  ‘And Gada?’ asked Heben eagerly. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘No.’ Shada dropped her head. ‘Gada is in the other place, the Black Place. He must have passed the Testing. I didn’ t. Girls never pass; that’ s what he said, Amagis. They don’ t want girls there. They took me away. There’ s so many, from all over the Empire, all the stolen children.’ She peered up through her tangled fringe of hair. ‘Can you help them, too?’

  ‘Don’ t you fear,’ said Mica confidently. ‘When we’ ve got these kids out, we’ ll go and help the others.’

  Shada did not smile, but a light came into her huge eyes. ‘The Black Place is in Hathara,’ she said.

  Heben’ s face went still. ‘Hathara is the harshest part of the desert. Those who venture there seldom come out.’

  ‘That Amagis come out of there, and these kids come out,’ cried Mica. ‘We’ ll come out, too!’

  Calwyn swallowed, and wished that for once Mica could be a little less enthusiastic, a little more pessimistic, like Trout. The task ahead was daunting enough, without piling another on top of it. What was this Black Place, what would they do when, if they reached it? A memory flickered, just out of reach: something Darrow had once told her – She felt a stab of longing for Darrow, for his experience, his guidance. She would have given her right hand at that moment just to see his grey eyes meet hers across the room, to feel the warmth of his hand on her own. But they had come here to find the chanter children, and they could not turn back now.

  As if he read her thoughts, Halasaa unfolded his long legs and stood. Come. The four children first. Then the rest.

  ‘Will you heal them, like you healed me?’ Shada gazed solemnly at Halasaa. ‘How did you do that?’

  It is a gift of healing, a gift of my people. You can sing. I can dance.

  ‘We should split up,’ said Calwyn. ‘Shada, which way do we go?’

  Shada said, ‘I know every corner of this Palace, every room and every passage, every stair and every balcony. I’ ve sung them up, day and night.’

  Calwyn nodded. ‘I have an idea.’ Inspired by the sled she’ d made for Shada, she ripped down one of the large wall-hangings and spread it on the floor. ‘Halasaa, come and hold up one end. No, stand on it, in the centre – yes, like a mast on a boat.’ She sang a quiet chantment of the winds and the mat bellied out in front of Halasaa. ‘You see? It’ s a sail, we can
slide down the corridors much quicker than if we went on foot. Mica, you and Halasaa take one and I’ ll take another. And once we’ ve found the children, they can hold the mat up with chantment.’

  Mica grinned at her in admiration. ‘You been spendin too long with Trout! That’ s good as any idea he ever had!’

  Calwyn flushed. ‘Shada, you wait here for us, with Heben. Save your strength, we may have a long journey ahead.’

  But Shada shook her head. ‘No. The room in the centre of the Palace has no windows and no doors. You’ re not an ironcrafter. You’ ll need me.’

  ‘I will come with you,’ said Heben firmly, his hand on Shada’ s shoulder. His steady dark-blue eyes met Calwyn’ s for a moment, and suddenly she was very glad that she wouldn’ t be alone.

  They agreed that Mica and Halasaa should go in search of the two children in the dungeons beneath the Palace, territory that Mica knew well. Calwyn, Heben and Shada would rescue the others. Each group would find a way out of the Palace and return to the camp where they’ d left the hegesi.

  If not for the chaos in the public rooms and corridors, and the general upset of the Court, they never could have done it. Mica and Halasaa sped off down the passageway, Mica whooping with excitement, while Halasaa held up the mat, his long hair streaming behind him. Shada growled out a chantment to hold up the second mat, and Calwyn sang a blast of wind to propel them forward, leaning precariously to the side to steer. Relieved to be out of their confined rooms at last, Heben gave a broad grin as they rushed down the smooth tunnel of the first corridor, swooping and gliding around the bends and turns.

  The sailing-sleds were no use on the stairs. But Shada directed them to the passages the servants took when they shifted furniture, where they could wheel the cabinets on their castors along ramps rather than haul them up and down steps.

  They shot along the smooth slopes faster than Calwyn had ever slid down any snow-covered hill in Antaris. It was an exhilarating way to travel, from one side of the Palace to the other, up and down between the levels, for Calwyn could propel them up the ramps with chantment just as quickly as they slid down. Room after empty room flew by in a blur of creamy stone.