The Magic Mines of Asharim

by Pauline M. Ross

  A harder poke. “Understand?”

  “Of course. I would never dream...”

  “Fine. Go help the girls.”

  When he’d disappeared, she turned to me. “He be any bother? Cause I don’t take men, mostly. Only this once as a favour to Geela.”

  “He’ll be no bother. He’s with me, and besides... he can’t. At all.”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Never met a man yet who can’t. Not if the temptation’s there.”

  “Well, you have now. He really can’t. It’s a peculiarity of Tre’annatha. They have to be awakened, somehow, and he never has. I’ve been naked with him in a bathing pool, and put my hands all over him, and, believe me, he can’t.”

  She cackled again. “Well, there’s a thing.”

  ~~~~~

  Morna was in no rush to get moving. She sent the two girls off to get extra supplies, while Xando and I finished the beans. Then we were set to make dumplings. It was very trying; my efforts were lumpy and misshapen, while Xando’s deft fingers produced lines of perfect spheres, each one identical to its neighbour.

  “Ye’ve never worked as a cook, then,” Morna said to me cheerfully. “Get ye gone. Go sit up top, and watch out for they soldiers.”

  So I lurked on deck, trying to be unobtrusive, watching everything that moved on the wharves. I detected a few people hidden away in their barges, out of sight, but otherwise no one was nearby. Even so, my heart was hammering the whole time, and I could hardly bear to be still. Every moment we sat motionless was a moment of risk. The uniforms of Caxangur could appear from behind a hill of stacked boxes or round the corner of a warehouse and we would be finished. I was wild to be underway, to leave this fetid little town behind. However kindly the inhabitants had treated us, only distance could save us now.

  When the two girls came back, laden with packages purchased by Geela’s generosity, I was dispatched below to lurk in a dark corner of the cabin where I wouldn’t get underfoot. Xando and the older girl unpacked haunches of goat and sheep, great round cheeses that set the cabin reeking, bags of vegetables, rice and flour, cloths filled with balls of fat, and smaller spice-pungent packages. Morna was down in the hold, shifting barrels single-handedly, by the sound of it. The younger girl was left on the roof to watch for soldiers.

  I was half asleep in my corner when there were three sharp knocks on the roof, followed almost instantly by the head of the younger girl, upside down at the hatch above the stairs.

  “They’s comin’!” she hissed.

  Everything happened at once. The older girl scrambled up to the deck, while Morna shot up the ladder from the hold. “Down here,” she whispered. “Both o’ ye. Dead quiet.”

  Shaking with dread, I clambered down as fast as I could. The ladder was bare metal and vertical, with little tolerance for error. My sweating palms made it hard to grasp the rungs, making me slip and miss my footing a couple of times, so that I ended up dangling precariously. Xando came down so fast behind me he trod on my hand once. It was fortunate he was barefoot. He stumbled and fell the last few rungs. Then Morna slammed the hatch closed above us, and we were in a blackness as profound as darkmoon, with only our heaving breath and hammering hearts for company.

  Above us, footsteps pounded, followed by clanks and rumbles and thumps. Then a sense of movement, as soft as a whisper. We were underway.

  The barge moved serenely, as silent as a swan. Then a soft bump, and stillness again. After some time, movement, steady and purposeful. I guessed that we had crossed to the far side of the canal by ropes, and the horse was now pulling us. I detected the sharp fear of Morna and the two girls, but nothing else. The anger of the captain had been left behind. For now, we had escaped.

  Even so, it was a long time before Morna came to release us from our prison, and it was full dark.

  “Two days to Wetherrin,” was all she said. “Keep out o’ sight till we’re past.”

  ~~~~~

  The barge was a strange home. Despite its miniscule accommodation, Morna was anything but tidy, and I could never sit down anywhere without moving something to make space. Inevitably, twenty times a day she would wander about saying plaintively, “I’s sure it was here,” until one or other of the girls tracked down the missing item.

  The deck, by contrast, which was Laina’s domain, was a model of tidiness, with buckets neatly stacked, ropes coiled, and everything mopped and polished and shining. Breela was responsible for the horse, spending daylight hours riding him or walking along the towpath beside him, singing tunelessly or whistling in imitation of birds. While we were in motion, Morna sat in state by the rudder, chewing her way through the bucket of leaf at her feet, and spitting overboard with a great hawking noise at regular intervals.

  Laina was also responsible for the cooking, but she quickly determined Xando’s competence and was happy to leave him to it. We ate rather well, with plenty of meat and fresh vegetables and fruit. At each meal, when I gave thanks to the One, Morna would cackle, offering her gratitude to Geela.

  For much of the way, the canal ran alongside the road to Wetherrin. It wasn’t much of a road, no more than a rutted track little used even by the locals, since all heavy traffic travelled by canal. But it was a good route for horses, and on our second day out, we were overtaken by three soldiers riding fast, raising a whirlwind of dust in their wake. The persistent captain off to Wetherrin to make his report, probably.

  “They will be expecting us at Wetherrin,” I said gloomily.

  “They may have given up,” Xando said, but I wasn’t convinced.

  We rested up for a few hours during that afternoon, to ensure we came to Wetherrin late in the evening, shortly before dusk. It was still darkmoon, so any pursuit would have to wait until morning.

  I was curious about Wetherrin, a town I’d never seen before, since my journey west had taken a more southerly route. I’d heard it was a friendly, relaxed place, neither wild and dangerous, like Hurk Hranda, nor overly officious, like Caxangur. However, Xando and I were to be hidden in the hold the whole time, seeing nothing of the town beyond the haze of smoke on the horizon as we approached. Morna had made a secret space for us in the furthest corner, well hidden behind crates and barrels. We took all our gear down there and crawled into a gap about half the size that would have been tolerable.

  I was used to hiding, but Xando was very fretful. I took his hand to soothe him, but then his anxiety transmitted itself to me as well. It didn’t help, for I was already jittery. Wetherrin was a risk, there was no doubt, especially now that some, at least, of the soldiers we’d seen on the mountain must have reached their camp and given news of us to their superiors. Perhaps they would even know that Xando was with me. One or other of us might hope to avoid notice, but together we were all too distinctive.

  Logic was my friend in such cases. We were passing through Wetherrin, not trying to sell anything, so the cargo would not be examined too thoroughly. Tax agents had the right to board, to ensure the barge wasn’t carrying anything not on the manifest, but they had no right to count every last crate or barrel. So long as Morna paid the toll silver, we would be allowed to pass.

  We sat in the dark, holding hands, trying to draw what comfort we could from the sounds above us. Laughter, then the clink of metal on metal, followed by some gentle bumping – that was just a lock gate. A more authoritative voice hailing us, Morna’s reply, then onward movement again – we had passed the town’s outer gate. Another lock, and the coin clanging into the lock-keeper’s bucket. A long stretch of slow movement, with the sounds of town life not far away: a bell ringing, a female voice lifted in song, a horse whinnying, the raucous sounds of a tavern. And here and there the drift of cooking smoke, telling me of fish soups and savoury vegetables cooked on sticks, in the local manner. My mouth watered.

  Then a louder male voice, and a sudden spike of fear in Morna and the two girls. We stopped, bumping softly against a wall or pontoon. The sound of booted feet on wooden boards. The barge tilted slightl
y as someone came aboard. Feet directly overhead. Morna’s voice, a low murmur, followed by the male again. He was sympathetic, but determined. Not suspicious, anyway. A routine inspection, perhaps, a cursory look round and we could be on our way.

  Then the thump of the hatch to the hold opening. We were in trouble.

  23: The Narrows

  Xando gave the tiniest whimper, and clutched my hand painfully tight. I told myself that we were well-hidden. This man would have to be very zealous to find us.

  For hours, it seemed, we held our breath, as Morna shifted boxes and sacks and barrels to appease the inspector. Each time, I expected him to be satisfied and go away, but no. There was always one more pile to be moved, so that he could see behind.

  Gradually they drew nearer to our hiding place in the low part of the hold beneath the cabin. They started crawling though, despite Morna’s loud complaints. And now I could hear the clink of his spurs, and the occasional clunk as his sword bumped on something. Not a tax agent, then. This was a soldier.

  I began to wish I’d thought of building in an escape route. This man was on his own, it seemed, and if we’d been able to create a passage around the outside of the cargo, perhaps we could have avoided him. Instead, we were trapped in our corner, just waiting for him to catch us.

  Morna’s fear was tumultuous, and it was hard for me to think straight. I hoped she wouldn’t try anything foolish. Even if we were caught, she could perhaps plead ignorance of our presence. But no, it would be obvious we hadn’t been tucked away in this cramped corner for two days. We’d clearly had the run of the barge.

  There was nothing for it but to wait until we were discovered. Until the last box was moved to reveal us, there was still a chance.

  “Ye’ve seen it all.” Morna’s voice was terrifyingly close.

  “Not quite. These boxes, if you please.”

  “There be nothin' there!”

  He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. After a brief pause, the final slender wall keeping us free began to be demolished, and the light of a lamp glowed through the gaps.

  Time to take charge of the situation. I let go of Xando’s hand, and reached into one of my flicker pockets.

  I crawled through the gap as soon as it was large enough. I’d forgotten how cramped I’d been, and my leg had gone so numb it nearly gave way beneath me. I caught myself on a box just in time.

  “You are looking for me, I believe?”

  He was a captain, although not the same one we’d seen on the mountain. I’d imagined a middle-aged man, from his voice, but he was young, not much older than I was, and he was taken aback by my abrupt appearance.

  Behind him Morna squeaked, wide-eyed. Both of them were puzzled, but the captain looked me up and down, taking in my thrower’s coat, and there was a healthy seam of fear running through him. But his dominant emotion was triumph. Good; that would be useful. And he wasn’t wearing gloves. Even better.

  “I am looking for Flethyssanya Dre’allussina.”

  “You have found her, Captain.”

  His eyes gleamed with excitement. I was quite excited myself, and tucked into the palm of my hand, my flicker fizzed with it. The others hummed gentle encouragement to him.

  “Then I must ask you to come with me.”

  One hand rested on the hilt of his sword, but he could scarcely draw in the confines of the hold. We were both crouched on our knees, and still our heads brushed the low ceiling. His other hand held the lantern, which put him at a disadvantage.

  “Very well.” I bowed my head submissively, and felt the roar of exultation race through him. “But first, I must beg you...”

  And I reached out my hand to him.

  He didn’t see the danger. He was no more than two paces away from me, so I had only to lean forwards and place my hand over his, where it lay on his sword hilt. There was an instant when realisation dawned in his eyes, but my flicker touched him and he gave a little gasp. Then his eyes went blank.

  I drew back from him, the flicker detaching itself soundlessly from his hand, and curling back into my palm with a squeal of pure pleasure. I almost laughed, but I kept my face composed.

  To the soldier, I said, “You have examined this barge from front to back.”

  “I have examined this barge from front to back,” he repeated tonelessly.

  “You have found nothing untoward. You have not found what you were looking for.”

  “I have found nothing untoward. I have not found what I was looking for.”

  “You will go now.”

  “I will go now.”

  Without another word, he backed away, threading his way through the disordered cargo until he could stand. He climbed the ladder up to the hatch and vanished. Booted feet crossed the planks above us, then the barge shifted slightly as he disembarked.

  For an endless moment no one moved. Then Morna swore lengthily in some language I wasn’t familiar with. “Ye stay here,” she whispered, and disappeared through the cargo. Not long after, we were under way again.

  I wasn’t tempted to move at all. I tucked my flicker away again, amused by his triumphant happiness and the supportive twitters of the others, Xando’s as well as mine. I flopped to the floor, my back against one of the boxes.

  Into the silence, Xando's outraged tones hissed at me. “You trained a flicker to manipulate minds?”

  “Isn’t that what you do with your connection?”

  “I encourage people to relax, to be content, less aggressive. I do not make them slaves.”

  “Hardly that. Really, why so scandalised? Flickers are a weapon of war, or of stealth. They’re used to kill people. Isn’t this a better way?”

  “No! There are rules, boundaries. Ethics, Sanya. We are not supposed to use flickers however we want. It is quite unacceptable.”

  “Word of the Empress, Xando, listen to yourself. You’re saying it’s fine to hire yourself out as an assassin, no problem there. You can train your flicker to kill or maim or whatever you want, as long as someone else pays you to do it. You can use it to break into a locked building. But use it to protect yourself? Oh no, that’s quite wrong, you mustn’t do that!”

  “You do not understand...” He shrugged helplessly. “When you are at the institute, you will learn the rules, you will realise... I had no idea it was even possible to do that – what you did.”

  “You were the one who told me that the only limit was my imagination,” I said acidly. “Well, I imagined it, and my flicker learned from that. And if I hadn’t trained him that way, we would both be in chains right now, and Morna and her granddaughters alongside us. So let’s have no more pious nonsense about ethics, all right?”

  He lapsed into mulish silence, which suited me just fine. It was the first big disagreement we’d had, and perhaps I should have taken more notice of it, but at the time I was too relieved at our close escape to worry about it.

  ~~~~~

  For some hours we sat in the darkness of the hold. The barge moved steadily onwards, and the only sounds were the occasional exchange of greetings between Morna and other canal folk – passing bargers, lock keepers, strand watchers and the like – and the chink of coin as we paid our dues at lock or strand. Cramped as we were, I even slept a little as the night wore on.

  Eventually, there was some bumping and the sound of footsteps moving back and forth above us, then stillness. The hatch slid open and Morna’s grim face appeared above one of the barrels. “Above, both of ye.”

  In the cabin above, the two girls were cutting chunks of cheese and slices of the hard, long-lasting bread the canal-folk favoured. A jug of ale sat ready to pour. There was raw fear in all three of them. I was starving, but when I reached for the food, Morna shook her head.

  “Business first. Ye be tellin’ me how ye’s doin' what ye did.”

  “Flicker.”

  She grunted, unsurprised. “I want ye’s word ye’ll not use such trickery agin me and mine.”

  “Certainly not.”


  “And Geela?”

  “No. I’ve never used that flicker before.” Her face glowered at me, unsure. “You have my word, on the One, that I have never used magic against Geela or any of you, nor would I.”

  Another grunt. Then a nod towards Xando’s stricken face. “He be dislikin' what ye did.”

  “A disagreement over ethics, that’s all.”

  “Ha.” A spike of amusement. “Well, that’s between the two o’ ye. Got us all out o’ a bad scrape, so I’ll say no more. Let’s eat.”

  “Where are we?”

  “Well clear o’ Wetherrin. We’ve turned to th’north, out o’ th’busy strands. Safe enough here. We’ll rest up for a few hours, get some sleep. Then we’ll be enterin’ the narrows.”

  ~~~~~

  We soon noticed the change in our surroundings, as we left the busier canals behind and journeyed into the narrows. I was fascinated to see a place I had heard so much about, for it had changed more than anywhere else over the centuries.

  At one time the whole of the northern plains had been desert, apart from two narrow strips of habitation along the rivers. Then the Empire had stretched its long fingers in that direction. The strong backs of slaves had built the canals, first joining the many braided river channels, or detouring unnavigable sections, and later reaching across the full width of the river basin between the two great mountain ranges that split the continent. The mountains here drew close together, only a few hundred marks apart instead of the thousands further south, but even so, it was a formidable achievement. Transportation for goods and people, and irrigation ditches to allow farming, greened the desert and brought settlements: farm villages, then towns, then greater, more powerful, ones to rival those at the coast.

  But the end of the Empire left the canals in local hands. The towns and strands, who each maintained their small section of canal bank, varied in their ability and willingness to contribute to the constant repairs and dredging required. The whole central section had gradually fallen into disrepair. Choked by weeds, crumbling and leaking, there were still a few routes navigable with care by smaller barges: the narrows.