The Magic Mines of Asharim

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The Magic Mines of Asharim Page 4

by Pauline M. Ross


  4: Inside The Mine

  Twisted Rock had its own rhythm, as all small communities do. Farms, small villages, craft shops, even households of any size, all have their routine, so that every hour has its set activities. After first table, Chendria assigned the chores to the carriers and the four companion-servants.

  Mine were not arduous: some tidying and sweeping, bringing laundry to the boiling room, then chopping vegetables or meat, or weighing ingredients for breads and cakes. After second table, I folded and pressed my own and Petreon’s laundry, and did any stitch work that was needed. There was nothing that exposed my domestic incompetence, thank the One. Once or twice Lazzlia or Lilyana chided me for slicing the vegetables too thinly, or failing to trim the meat to their standards, but I learned quickly what was needed and no one commented on my lack of skill.

  I had sole charge of my house and Petreon’s, and helped Chendria with the Main House. The three male companion-servants looked after their own house and the extractors’ houses. The carriers, four women and the two castrated men, did all the heavy work, carting around sacks of flour or barrels of oil, and managing the huge boiling vats for the laundry.

  It was strange to me to see the carriers working that way, but then the extractors’ role was different, too. At any normal mine, the extractors would do the hard work inside, working with picks or chisels or, for the giant marble quarries, explosives. The carriers would haul away the valuable goods and debris. Here, there was nothing heavy to haul. As for the extractors, I had no idea how they did what they did, nor did I want to know. As far as I could tell, they spent their days in what was called the Mine House, the nearest house to the mine entrance, sewing or weaving or just gossiping, with the children playing nearby. I suppose they must have gone into the mine sometimes, but I never saw them do it.

  All of the extractors were women and most were young, a few years either side of twenty. But a few were older, and one of the oldest, Kijana, took an interest in me. A pleasant woman, usually surrounded by a cloud of children, she was from one of the hill tribes near Hurk Hranda originally. Although she knew I wasn’t a compatriot, I think she still felt an affinity, since all the others were plains folk. She was the only one who had tattoos around her ears, similar to mine. She would sit and talk to me in the evenings, not about her home or family, any more than I did, but about Twisted Rock.

  “It’s a proper town, you know,” she told me one time. “There are craft workshops and taverns and a place with a big pool in it…”

  “A bathhouse?” I said excitedly.

  “Oh, I don’t know. I suppose it might be. I’ve never seen one.”

  I wanted to see it at once, and although she laughed at my enthusiasm, she agreed to take me. Some of the others tagged along as well – Rufin and some of his admirers, several of the children, and Petreon, to my surprise.

  Kijana led the way quickly through the streets, still brilliant with brightmoon, to a deserted corner of the town. On a large square with yet another fountain adorning it – I had never seen so many working fountains, it was quite upsetting – was a pillared and porticoed building, its friezes decorated with carvings of shells and fanciful sea creatures. The whole place was new to me, but it was clear from the surprise I detected in the others that none of them had been there before, either. I wondered at their lack of curiosity. Petreon was less surprised, so I guessed he’d looked around a bit.

  The building was small, but there was no doubt it was a true bathhouse, built in the style fashionable during the Khurmizzan Empire and still in favour in some parts, with separate hot, warm and cold pools, but no division for men and women. There were still one or two such to be found in Mesanthia. There were strange aspects here, though, like the broad galleries overlooking the pools, and the marble cubes arranged almost like tables with stools around them, as if anyone would eat at a bathhouse. Very odd.

  But the oddest part of it was that the place was not neglected, but sat in readiness, as if the occupants had just that moment stepped outside. The hot pool steamed gently, rills of fresh water flowing gently over marble rims into one end and out at the other. There was a faint scent of flowers rising from the water. Towels and soap were laid on tables reflected in the gleaming marble floor. I half expected to see wet footprints leading away from the pools. High above, an oculus of painted glass slowly rotated by some unknown device, casting ever changing patterns of colour over the pools.

  “Who looks after this place?” I asked, awed.

  Petreon shrugged, and Kijana said, “No one does. But all the buildings are like this.”

  But then so much of Twisted Rock was odd. I’d only been there a few days, and hadn’t yet had the time to assimilate everything about the place, but standing there in the bathhouse the peculiarity of it hit me with the force of a tidal wave. There were hearths, but although the fires were never lit, I never felt chilled. The cooking pots sat on stones that burned yet were never consumed, the flames increased or reduced by a lever. The fountains still worked, pumping out clean water with no sign of leaf debris or the green scum that anywhere else would float on the surface.

  The others were uncomfortable in the bathhouse, so we went back to the Main House. Later, when I left to head for my house, Petreon padding in my wake, I turned to him and said, “I’m going to bathe in the bathhouse. Do you want to come?”

  Wordlessly, he followed me. I pushed open the door to the bathhouse, smiling in anticipation. A proper bathhouse! At Hurk Hranda I had gone every day to bathe in the women’s pool in the foreign quarter. There was only a warm pool, but you could douse yourself with cold water first if you wanted, then lounge in the main pool as long as you wished. Some women with nothing better to do stayed there all day, drinking cooled fruit juices and gossiping endlessly, but I usually went early, when it was almost empty.

  I tossed my clothes aside and waded into the cold pool, shivering in delight. Petreon watched me solemnly.

  “Aren’t you coming in?” I asked.

  I could feel the desire coursing through him, but he shook his head. When I’d walked breast-deep through the cold pool and crossed to the warm one, he changed his mind and started undressing. His desire was even more obvious then.

  I took some soap, glorying in the waxy smoothness of it, and the heady scent. Something exotic. By the time I’d washed myself, Petreon was gingerly stepping down into the water. He was even more of a spider undressed, all skinny arms and legs, his chest shrunken so that the bones protruded. It was lucky I didn’t care about his appearance, for he was anything but attractive.

  He stopped half way down the steps.

  “Come on, it’s perfectly safe,” I said.

  Another couple of steps, so the water lapped around his waist.

  “There’s a shelf you can sit on over here.” I sat down to show him, then got up and led him by the hand. He inched his way along, feeling carefully with his feet to be sure there were no sudden drops. I don’t think he’d ever been in a proper bathing pool before.

  Eventually I got him sat down, and set to work soaping him all over. His lips twitched, the nearest he’d ever come to a smile. When my hands reached further down, he sighed and closed his eyes, leaning his head back against a pillar. Men are so simple to please, it’s quite charming, really. When I could tell he was ready, I sat astride him, sliding him inside me, and he groaned and buried his face between my breasts. After that, I didn’t have to do anything at all.

  When it was over, we moved to the hot pool. We sat side by side, soaking in the water which flowed constantly, always at the perfect temperature. He was silent, as usual. I liked that better than talking. It was very restful. But now that the lust had been dealt with, all sorts of other emotions floated through him, flitting into his mind and out again, like the steam curling round the pillars. Amusement – no, it was stronger than that. Glee, almost. Something close to triumph. And wisps of a stronger feeling – dislike bordering on disgust. That was curious, and a little unsett
ling. He was a strange man, no doubt about it.

  ~~~~~

  “Well, Allandra,” Chendria said one morning at first table, “I have something different for you to do today, m’dear. You’re to go into the mine.”

  My heart flip-flopped, and I almost stopped breathing. “Whatever for?” I squeaked.

  “Rules,” she said airily. “Everyone has to understand what we do here, in case of – incidents.” Her expression was solemn, but there was an undercurrent of amusement running through her. She found my fear entertaining, for some reason. Petreon snorted, which I was learning was his version of laughter. A fine pair, the two of them, enjoying my discomfiture.

  “Do I have to?” My heart was pounding in my chest. I hadn’t expected this.

  “Oh, yes! Everyone has to, rules and all that, m’dear. I’m sure you’ll survive.” And she laughed openly at me. “It’s not as if you had any aptitude, or you wouldn’t be just a companion-servant.” This time it was a wave of disdain.

  “And if I refuse?”

  A stillness dropped over the room like a blanket. Petreon was expressionless but Chendria’s eyebrows shot upwards. “Refuse? Why, then I’d make your life quite miserable, m’dear. I don’t recommend that.” Her tone was as brittle as ice.

  Kijana leaned across the table to pat my hand. “They can’t hurt you, Allandra. Once you’ve seen them, you’ll understand. I’ll take you in, if you like, and show you round.”

  I smiled and nodded, but I wasn’t reassured.

  As soon as the meal was finished, the extractors left in a chattering crowd, like a flock of geese, the children scampering ahead of them.

  Kijana smiled at me. “Shall we go?”

  I nodded, trailing miserably along behind her as she left the Main House. Chendria smirked at me as I passed her by, and for an instant I caught the same feeling of disgust from her as I’d felt in Petreon. Was that aimed at me? Curious.

  Outside, the sky was heavy with snow, and if I looked up I could see flakes swirling and dancing far above. Few reached the ground, though, melting to a fine drizzle to cast shimmering nets over our hair and clothes. It was peculiar, walking round in a snowfall with no cloak or scarves or fur-lined gloves. I often wondered what caused the unnatural warmth. It was a benign effect, at least. Probably the town was built above an area of hot springs which kept the winter weather at bay.

  All too soon Kijana and I caught up with the others. I hated crowds – I never knew when there was going to be an outbreak of some violent emotion to knock me sideways – but the women were in a relaxed mood today, no extremes, either good or bad. The group drifted through the streets to the Mine House, and vanished inside with the younger children. The older ones milled about outside. I paused on the threshold, but Kijana gently took my arm and led me inside.

  The house was no different from any other in the town, with a series of well-furnished rooms. One room was set aside for the children to play in, another for weaving and sewing, and there was a kitchen where the women brewed tennel.

  A small group of us, five women and several children, continued through the kitchen and out to a small courtyard at the back of the house. There was a stone fountain here, no more than a dragon’s head spouting water into a basin, but the carving was exquisite. I would have liked to examine it more closely, but Kijana pulled me onward to an archway, with steps leading down. There were no lamps or windows, and the gloomy daylight penetrated only a few steps down, but the smooth walls glowed a buttery yellow and I could see my way perfectly well.

  At the bottom of the steps, a tunnel led straight as a spear into the heart of the mountain, and I understood now why I’d never seen the women going into the mines.

  “Why this way?” I asked. “Why not go in above ground? There is an entrance, isn’t there?”

  “Oh yes, but it works better if we use the tunnel. It doesn’t take them by surprise, somehow. Not much further now.”

  The tunnel ended in solid rock, but a ramp spiralled upwards, bringing us into a vast hemispherical cave many hundreds of paces across. There was no golden glow, nor any obvious source of light, but I could see with great clarity, although it seemed to me as if my vision was slightly out of alignment, like looking through a prism. Around me, the air was a hazy blue. The cave floor was as smooth as planed wood, but the walls and roof were pitted with thousands of holes, and I could feel the creatures within them. Oddly, there was no evil in them now, just a warmth, as if they were welcoming us, and a subtle curiosity. It was like being surrounded by a multitude of friends. It wasn’t at all what I’d expected, having only ever seen their terrifying side before.

  There were moveable raised platforms scattered about, presumably so the women could reach the higher parts of the cavern. While I stood and stared, Kijana at my side, the others strolled about, silent and serious, an air of concentration on each face, even the children.

  “Do you each have your own area to work?” I asked.

  “No. The flickers choose us, not the other way round.”

  Flickers. A silly name. In High Mesanthian they were mak’tersshikor – an old expression which was translated variously as ‘stone creatures of the depths of night’ or perhaps ‘creatures who flow from the stone in darkness’. And that didn’t come close to describing them. But ‘flickers’ made them sound rather charming, like over-active glow-worms.

  “I don’t know if you can imagine this,” Kijana went on, “but we are aware of them in our minds. We can feel all the subtleties of their emotions, almost as if we know what they’re thinking. It’s a wonderful thing, Allandra, to be able to connect with another living being in that way.”

  “Is it,” I said flatly. It wasn’t a sentiment I could agree with. There were a handful of times when I’d been grateful for my connection to other minds, but for most of my life it had been an oppressive and unrelieved nightmare.

  Kijana laughed. “I know they have a bad reputation, but they’re really quite friendly. They’re very interested in you.” She sounded surprised.

  My pulse quickened. “Is that normal?”

  “Oh yes, all strangers are of interest, but they’re unusually curious about you. I’ve never seen them so active as a group. They’re generally very quiet about now. They only start reaching out around darkmoon.” She threw me a quick sideways glance. “It’s almost as if… but you can’t have any aptitude, can you?”

  “Oh, but she could.” I almost jumped in shock. Chendria had crept up behind me. “She refused to test for aptitude.”

  “I had a bad experience with them as a child.” My stock excuse. It had an odd effect, though, for all the things in their holes reacted. Some mental state, for want of a better description, passed through every one of them. I couldn’t tell what feeling it represented, but in humans I would have called it a shiver or a gasp, some instinctive response, quickly over.

  All the women cried out in surprise. Chendria laughed, though. “Aha! Caught you out, Allandra. You can’t lie in here. They know.”

  Well. That was intriguing. In all my reading, I’d never come across that aspect of flicker behaviour before. “Is that why you wanted me to come into the mine? So you could catch me in a lie?”

  That made her laugh even more. It was a hard, unpleasant sound, like a seal honking for a mate. “It adds to the entertainment, doesn’t it, m’dear? Petreon suggested it, actually. He’s the one who knew you’d refused. He’s had all your details from Crenton.” Well, that wouldn’t help him. They knew nothing of me there, not even my real name. “He wants me to ask you another question. He’d like to know if you’re really Akk’ashara.”

  “What does it matter?” I snapped. “Aren’t we supposed to leave our past behind when we come here?”

  And with that, I stormed back to the ramp. I couldn’t get out of that cave quickly enough.

  5: The Calling

  After tricking me inside the mine, Chendria’s hostility became overt. She was never actually rude to me, but if there wa
s a particularly unpopular job to be done or one last thing to finish off, I was sure to be chosen. “Allandra, m’dear, I’m sure you won’t mind…?” she would say with an unctuous smile, before assigning me a floor to scrub, or a rug to beat. I did whatever I was asked to do conscientiously, without objection, and made sure to give her no cause to complain about me. I didn’t think she could have me recalled, and even if she did I’d only be sent to a different mine, but there was no point antagonising her.

  Petreon’s dislike was more subtle. He enjoyed the services I provided, so outwardly he treated me well. He rarely spoke to me, but then he rarely spoke to anyone else, either. At table, he often sat close to me, elbowing others further along the bench to do so, and passing dishes of food to me as soon as he’d served himself. As he and Chendria were always served first, this meant that I was able to take my pick of whatever was on offer that day.

  He was surprisingly hesitant about sex, too. He entered my house diffidently, not knocking, just sliding round the door, asked for nothing unusual and left straight afterwards. When I went to the bathhouse, he followed me there but always waited for me to initiate things, even though his desire was plain to see. And he never missed a night. I’d thought him middle-aged, perhaps fifty from his weathered features, but he had the stamina of a much younger man, and he always seemed to be thinking about it. Lust hung about him constantly, like perfume.

  Behind the public facade, though, he disliked me just as much as Chendria, if not more. I could feel it swirling through both of them, a strong sense of disgust, the sort of feeling many people have if they see a sewer rat or a swarm of dung beetles. It was almost as if they hated me, and I had no idea why.

  Twisted Rock wasn’t turning out to be the quiet backwater I’d hoped for. I’d imagined that a small, stable community, with no external disruptions beyond the weather, would be as calm as a reflecting pool, freeing me from the constant fear of outbreaks of uncontrollable emotions. It wasn’t quite like that. There were too many young women cooped up together, rivals both for the creatures they extracted and for the three men assigned to take care of their physical needs. So there were sudden outbursts of jealousy, quarrels flared and burned out almost as quickly, a smile or a frown could trigger a tidal wave of happiness or misery.

 

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