The Harvest Tide Project

by Oisin McGann

  Cholsch greeted him as he walked in.

  ‘Emos Harprag! Well, this is a day for seeing old friends! Why, you just missed Draegar. He was here only this afternoon. What brings you to our little oasis?’

  ‘My niece and nephew, Cholsch. It’s good to see you, too. How are you? How is Temina?’

  ‘The old ball and chain? The same as always. But what’s this about your niece and nephew? Why would they be in these parts?’ A tankard of mead appeared as if by magic in front of Emos.

  ‘That’s what I’m trying to find out. You said Draegar had been here?’

  ‘Yes, lit out in a hurry for Noran with some new friend of his.’ Cholsch leaned closer and lowered his voice. ‘Had to borrow that man’s wagon. Unfortunate state of affairs.’

  He nodded to a man who sat at a table on the other side of the room, well on his way to being thoroughly drunk. Emos gave him a glance and turned back to the Parsinor, who continued talking as he polished some empty tankards;

  ‘Ol’ Draegar was goin’ on about the Noranians havin’ some kind of mighty weapon they was goin’ to use against the Karthars – said he had to get to Noran to stop them. Didn’t know what he was goin’ on about myself, but I helped him as best I could, settin’ him up with transport an’ all.’

  Emos stopped in mid-gulp and lowered his mug.

  ‘What kind of weapon?’

  ‘That was the bit that didn’t make sense. Think he’s got too used to tellin’ those stories of his. He said the Noranians was goin’ to use the esh to kill all those Karthars.’

  The drive had taken them through the night and most of the following day, and Groach was congratulating himself that he had only bumped into the wagon in front of his three times. But at last the city of Noran was in sight. They rolled on past the sentry posts, down the mountain road and out onto the plain where the city grew day by day. As they drove through the streets, Draegar wrinkled his nose at the stink of too many dwellings packed too close together, and the industrial smoke that hung in the air like a fog. The convoy moved rapidly, troops clearing the streets in front of them all the way to the river. When Groach finally pulled in, they saw that the docks along the riverside were lined with vehicles, all carrying crumble cones. These were being unloaded, packed carefully into crates and hoisted aboard waiting barges. Groach was waved into a loading space beside another truck.

  He and Draegar jumped down and waited until no one was watching. Then they slipped into the milling teams of loaders and found their way down one of the alleys that led between the rows of warehouses. Groach took the lead, heading for the city gardens and the area where he knew the Harvest Tide staff to be working. Around them, life in Noran carried on at its hectic pace.

  The streets were busy with people going about their daily routines: market carts pulled by donkeys, horses, oxen and oil-powered engines mixed with the men and women moving between the shops and factories. The buildings were a combination of wood and brick, with gabled roofs, balconies and walkways that stretched across the streets. The houses were all clean, tidy and well maintained. The cobbled streets were free of mud and rubbish, but the air was thick, cold and humid. There were no beggars on the streets, but Draegar knew that this was only because the soldiers gathered them up and put them to work in the mines, not because there were no poor people in Noran.

  Groach walked along roads, guiding himself by chimneys. He had rarely been allowed out of the buildings where he and his colleagues worked, and never without an armed guard. But he had looked out on the city so often from the upper-storey windows that he knew the roofs and chimneys of the place better than any free man. And so he was able to steer them to the compound where he knew he would find his friends.

  ‘This is it,’ he said as they stood before a high wall that extended for hundreds of paces in either direction. ‘They’ll all be in here.’

  ‘How do we get in?’ Draegar asked.

  ‘We don’t,’ Groach replied. ‘There are too many guards inside. I can get in, but you will have to stay outside.’

  ‘And what happens if you can’t get out, or they don’t want to help?’

  ‘If I can’t get out, I’ll try and get to that window.’ The botanist pointed to the second storey of a building that stood inside the wall. ‘I’ll give you a signal … I’ll stand at the window and touch both hands to my head. If you see that, you’re on your own. They have enough barges loaded to fill four or five esh-boats already. If I can get the others to help, we have fungi that will destroy the crumble cones before they even reach the mouth of the river. If I can’t, you’ll have to find some way to do it on your own.’

  ‘Go, then,’ the Parsinor urged him. ‘And may the gods look kindly on you. I will wait here until sunset. The barges will not leave until morning. There are rocks further down river and no captain will try to pass them at night. Go … and mind yourself, Shessil. The plants of the world would be poorer without you.’

  He touched his forehead to Groach’s, and the botanist shook his hand. Then the Parsinor watched him walk away towards one end of the wall. Groach strode around the corner, made his way up to the gate and waved to the pair of guards who stood there.

  ‘By Everness, it’s good to be back,’ he announced, turning from one soldier to the other. ‘I believe the Prime Ministrate has been looking for me.’

  The two Myunans were arguing about what to do next, when the tarpaulin was whipped aside and two hands grabbed them by the scruffs of their necks. A workman dragged them out and stared at them.

  ‘What have we got here, eh? Two little troublemakers, I’ll wager.’

  Hilspeth, who had been hidden on the other side of the wagon, slipped out and crept around the back. Rushing into view, she put a hand on each of the Myunans’ shoulders.

  ‘There you are, you little scamps,’ she snapped. ‘How many times have I told you to stay out of the men’s way? Honestly, I can’t take my eyes off you for a moment. Thank you, sir, for finding them. I’m sorry if they have been up to mischief.’

  ‘Not really, ma’am. Just playing around, I expect. Did the same when I was a lad. But you should keep them away. We’re at the Prime Ministrate’s work here, and it won’t do to have children running about. I’d keep a closer watch on them in future, if I was you.’

  ‘I will, of course. Sorry again. I promise they’ll get a proper spanking for this.’

  ‘I hope so. If you don’t beat them, they won’t learn. That’s what I always say.’

  ‘And right you are, too.’ Hilspeth smiled tightly.

  The workman waved to another, and they began to crate the crumble cones. Hilspeth tugged on the collars of the shape-changers, and together they escaped into the crowd.

  ‘I’ll show him “beating”, that mutton-head,’ muttered Lorkrin. ‘I’d like to see him try it.’

  ‘Yes, I’m sure you would,’ Hilspeth said to him. ‘But first let’s see what’s going on. It’s getting dark, and I get the feeling that those boats aren’t going to be hanging around when morning comes. If Shessil and Draegar have a plan, great. If not, we’re going to have to do something ourselves.’

  ‘You escaped?’ Mungret asked, with a quizzical expression.

  ‘Well, not exactly.’ Groach shrugged. ‘The Parsinor was a friend of their uncle’s or something like that. When he heard what they had been up to, he gave them a good shouting at and told me to be on my way.’

  ‘But our trackers told us that you walked a good way with them. When did you get away from them?’

  ‘I’m a bit embarrassed about that, actually. The Parsinor thought I was someone important; he was going to hold me for ransom. It took me a while to convince him I was just a botanist and not worth a lot of money. He just told me to shove off. He was a bit peeved he’d dragged me that far.’

  ‘Well, the Prime Ministrate will be glad to have you back, I can tell you.’ Mungret squeezed his shoulder. ‘We would have rescued you eventually, of course. Don’t doubt for a moment that you are
worth a great deal to us, Shessil, a great deal indeed. Your work is vital to Noran.’

  ‘And it’s work I’m keen to get back to, sir. I’d like to join the others now, if you don’t mind.’

  ‘Ah, yes. The others. They are uh … out on a research trip; they won’t be back for some days yet. Why don’t you go up to the laboratory and get on with whatever you need to do? I’m sure the Prime Ministrate will want to see you himself as soon as possible.’

  Mungret nodded to a guard, and gently nudged Groach in the direction of the stairs. The soldier followed him as he climbed towards the second floor. When he entered the main laboratory, he discovered a score of people working at the tables. He did not recognise any of them. His breath caught in his throat. Had Namen decided to put more people on the project even though they had achieved what they had set out to do?

  ‘Mr Groach!’ A middle-aged man scurried across the room to shake his hand. ‘It’s an honour to meet you. We’ve been going through your notes, sir, and I must say your ideas on the bubule are quite brilliant. May I congratulate you on your studies? It will be a pleasure to work with you.’

  ‘I … ah, thank you. I wonder, can you tell me where my colleagues are? They are on a research trip, I believe. Have they gone back to Hortenz?’

  The other man froze. Casting his eyes back towards the rest of the new team, he paused for a moment.

  ‘Well, to be honest, Mr Groach, they have been taken off the project. Once the problem of the blooming was cracked, their services were no longer required. The project has moved onto the final stage. It is more a matter of physiology rather than botany now.’

  Groach felt a tension in the place, and he took a closer look around the room. Most of the men and women here were young, and the experiments that were taking place were not those that he had been used to. Dead animals were being dissected: sheep, budgies, an ox – something he had never done, nor any of his friends.

  He watched as a woman opened up a donkey’s belly, cutting through creamy yellow fat, pushing it aside to slice into the filmy membrane that covered the coiled intestines. The creature was not long dead, but the guts released a pungent smell when the woman pierced them, her hands delving into the slick, snake-like organs. He turned away as she started using a bone-saw to cut through the ribcage to get at the lungs. The original project had not needed animals for their experiments. This was something different.

  ‘What kind of work are you doing here?’ he asked.

  ‘The effects of the esh on breathing,’ the man replied, clapping his hands together with a smile.

  ‘The effects are simple,’ Groach said through gritted teeth. ‘It stops you from breathing.’

  He wandered over to the large cupboard where they grew their fungi and bacteria.

  ‘Can I help you with anything?’ the older man enquired.

  ‘No, thank you. I just need to gather a few things. Then I think I’ll go to my room.’

  ‘I can’t let you take anything from the laboratory.’

  Groach turned to him, some sealed test tubes in his hand.

  ‘You can’t tell me what to do. I don’t know who you are, or what you’re doing here, but I’ve worked here for years. I’ll take whatever I please.’

  ‘I am the Groundsmaster, and I say you will not take anything from here without the Prime Ministrate’s authority.’

  Groach hesitated. The new Groundsmaster was someone who had never worked here before. Then the others really were gone. He did not want to think about what Namen might have done to them to keep this project secret. Perhaps they had figured out what it was all for and had refused to carry on. It was all too easy to imagine what could have happened.

  ‘All right, then. I’ll do the work here. Excuse me.’

  Stepping past the Groundsmaster, he walked over to one of the barred windows and sat down at the table there. The older man watched him for a while, and then went back to dissecting a donkey. The sky was bright against the horizon, the sun was setting and the ground below was in shadow. He could not see Draegar. Whatever happened now, he was not going to be able to get out of the building tonight. These new faces were loyal to Namen. They would not help him escape, and would probably warn the soldiers if they caught him trying. Groach took a piece of vellum and scribbled something on it. Separating out two of the test tubes, he wrapped the note around one, pulled out a large handkerchief and tied it around each one in turn so that both were well cushioned. The window was open. He checked that he was not being watched, and then pushed the bundle out between the bars. There was a soft thud below. Standing up, he ran his hands through his thinning hair and sighed. He was a prisoner once more.

  Draegar watched the small bundle drop to the ground, and looked up in time to see Groach put his hands to his head at the upstairs window. He cautiously checked the narrow street in both directions, then crossed and picked up the tightly wrapped package. Opening it, he found two test tubes and a note.

  ‘I cannot get out. My friends are not here. The place is full of strangers,’ the note read. ‘In these containers is a fungus that will eat the crumble cones. Sprinkle some of the spores in each of the barges.

  ‘Good luck. Shessil.

  ‘P.S. Don’t get any on clothes, shoes or any other soft material. This stuff has a big appetite.’

  Draegar carefully placed the test tubes in one of his bags. He gazed up at the window again, hoping to catch sight of Groach, but the botanist was gone. He toyed with the idea of trying to go in after his new companion, but knew it was no use. He had to return to the docks or Groach’s sacrifice would be in vain.

  Taya, Lorkrin and Hilspeth wandered through the melee, men with wheelbarrows and wagons and cranes clattered past them, paying them no attention. The Myunans had shed their tribal colours to appear as human children, and Taya had even changed her hair to a shorter, more Noranian style. There were more than a dozen barges against the docks themselves, being loaded up, with at least as many again waiting out in the river to take their places. In the foggy, dim light of evening, the buildings on both sides of the water were losing their detail, taking on a murky grey brown colour that melded them all into angular, featureless blocks. Stepping over mooring ropes and steering clear of gangplanks, the three investigated the docks, peering into the holds of the boats, and taking note of the soldiers who overlooked the proceedings.

  They were watching more wagons arriving when a squad of troops passed them by. One of the soldiers stopped suddenly, staring at them.

  ‘Flivel, get in formation!’ the Forward-Batterer shouted at him, but the infantryman did not move.

  Hilspeth stared back at him, sure that she remembered him from somewhere. With a mounting sense of dread, it came to her. Flivel, the soldier from the courtroom. The one with bad grammar.

  ‘That’s the hag that cost me a hundred drokes,’ he snarled. ‘The one that was friends with that little rat who killed Grulk. What are you doing here, hag?’

  He looked at the two Myunans and light dawned in his eyes.

  ‘Hey, isn’t that the pair who …’

  ‘Run!’ Hilspeth screamed and shoved the two Myunans in front of her.

  They turned and sprinted away as fast as their legs could carry them. As they passed a wagon, Lorkrin slapped the catches on the tailgate, and glanced back to watch as a pile of crumble cones tumbled into the path of the soldiers, causing the first two to stumble and fall over. But horns sounded behind them – the alarm was being raised. Taya and Lorkrin were almost invisible in the crowd, as everyone was taller than them and Hilspeth hurried to keep up, while staying as low as she could. The soldiers were hampered by the busy teams of workmen, but they were gaining on the fugitives.

  ‘In here!’ called Taya, ducking into a warehouse. They darted in among piles of tall jars, searching frantically for a way out on the other side. But the windows were boarded up and the doors were locked. They stopped to catch their breath behind a stack of jars, Lorkrin climbing up to peer over the
top at the door they had come in.

  ‘They haven’t followed us,’ he panted. ‘I don’t think they saw us come in.’

  ‘It won’t take them long to figure out where we went,’ Taya whispered. ‘We’ll be trapped in here when they do.’

  ‘We could turn into something nasty. Scare them off,’ he suggested hopefully.

  ‘Oh, grow up!’ his sister snapped. ‘That’d get us killed for sure.’

  Hilspeth turned her attention to the roof.

  ‘Do you think we could climb out of here?’ she asked. ‘Those skylights don’t seem to be locked. It would be better than going back out the way we came in.’

  They found stairs leading to a walkway that overlooked the floor of the warehouse. From there, Taya was able to stand on Hilspeth’s shoulders and unlatch one of the skylights. Below them, three soldiers wandered in the doorway and started to search among the jars. Taya nodded down at them, pointing them out to the others, then she pulled herself up and out onto the roof as quietly as she could. Lorkrin followed, and once out, he slunched his feet and ankles and hooked them around a post near the edge of the opening. Hanging head-first through the skylight, he stretched far enough for Hilspeth to grab him and begin to climb up, using him as a makeshift rope-ladder. From the floor below, they heard a shout, and a crossbow bolt suddenly shot past Hilspeth as she and Taya pulled Lorkrin out. Looking frantically around, they saw a walkway leading to the roof of the next warehouse.

  ‘They’re not following us,’ Taya said.

  ‘They’ll try to surround us,’ Hilspeth called back as she ran. ‘We need to find a way down. If we get stuck up here, they’ll catch us for sure.’