The Magic Mines of Asharim

by Pauline M. Ross

  I’d have flipped back again just as quickly if he’d offered me a shred of affection. A touch, a kiss, the warmth of his arm around me. That would have been enough to have me fall on him, and cry myself out. An adjustment to a new reality. My love would still have burned, if a little less brightly. But there was nothing. I don’t think he even understood my distress.

  I seethed with anger. He’d used me, given me a potion I wasn’t accustomed to, knowing it would have an overwhelming effect on me. Had he done the same to all those other women, the ones who’d followed him around, thrown themselves at him, and wept when he’d left? Probably. I was just another foolish woman, one more in a long line of them. I’d thought I was special, and in truth I was just like all the others. Stupid.

  What I didn’t understand was why. What was the point of making me fall in love with him? Was it just vanity, his arrogant need to be adored? I had no idea. I was beginning to realise just how little I knew about this man. My soul mate – ha! How ridiculous that sounded now.

  After a while, when I said nothing, he rose fluidly to his feet and strode back to the barge.

  ~~~~~

  Later that afternoon, we emerged from the shortcut onto a broader canal, wide enough for oared barges in the centre, while towed vessels clung to the canalside. It was choked with traffic, and it took all Zak’s skill with poles and my inexpert help at the rudder to steer us across the busy lanes to the far bank. Xando and Renni, the latter grumbling loudly, led the horse across by a bridge.

  This canal was the direct route to the northern port of Verrynshia, on the Ashalar River. We were not going there, however, for there was no easy way beyond it towards Mesanthia. To the east of the port, the canal system petered out in the desert. To the north, the river was shallow and unnavigable for long stretches. There was a good canal heading north-east, but it was infested with wild people who saw barges as fair game. If you were lucky, you could bribe your way through, but few risked it. The larger merchant companies sent their vessels through in convoys, with armed guards.

  Instead, we would take a route to the north, a meandering waterway weaving through low hills covered with vines, a more pleasant route in the stifling end of summer. It took us less than a day to reach the entrance to it, where a small town spread itself along the banks. It was an unpromising place, with dogs and rats wild in the dusty streets, the children naked and filthy, and the bars and brothels doing good business even in the middle of the afternoon. There were a few ramshackle stalls – it would be too much to call it a market – near the main wharf.

  “We will restock here,” Zak said. “There are few strands the way we’re headed, so we need to make sure we are well supplied.”

  We spent a full day there, paying for a berth at one of the quieter wharves, paying again for a stable for the horse, and then paying ridiculous prices for wilted vegetables and grey cheese. I refused to buy any meat at all; it was green with age and came from no animal I could identify. I suspected it was mostly river rat.

  I would have liked to find a decent bathhouse or laundry, to wash the canal scum out of myself and my clothes, but there was no sign of either. None of the inhabitants seemed to have much affection for hot water. They were a surly crowd, who stared at us as we went by and sometimes spat noisily at our feet. I picked up open hostility in their minds, but whether it was our Mesanthian appearance or just resentment at the world in general I couldn’t tell. We never dared to leave the barge unattended.

  In the afternoon, Zak wanted to check over the ropes and make some repairs, so Xando and I set off to try to find the last few items we wanted. Whoever would have thought root vegetables would be so hard to find? There were spices I wanted, too, but I wasn’t optimistic; it wasn’t the sort of town to go for anything more complicated than basic stew.

  Having tried the stalls nearest to our own wharf in the morning, we wandered about looking for other stalls. Perhaps we’d be lucky and find a better part of town, with stone buildings and real shops. There were few people about, and those we did see skittered away from us, so we couldn’t even ask for directions. We walked for what seemed like hours, but we found nothing useful. To make matters worse, a steady rain had been falling all day, so despite the heat we were bundled up in cloaks.

  “This is a waste of time,” Xando said. “At least we have tried. Shall we go back?”

  I stopped, considering. “Let’s make a loop, so we don’t go back the way we came. We might still find something.”

  Eventually we found a busier area, and a small square lined with decent shops. They all had pictures of the goods they sold carved on the door.

  “There – those are vegetables,” Xando said hopefully.

  The paint had faded so badly that it was impossible to identify them, but I agreed that they looked like vegetables.

  “But what are all these marks scratched over the door?” They were no script I recognised, but I’d seen then on other houses in the town, too, so they meant something to the locals.

  The goods inside were not much better than we’d seen at the wharf stalls. We bought two small sacks of vegetables, and a tiny parcel of shrivelled herbs. As I was waiting for the woman to bite every coin, in case it was false, I said, “The marks carved above your door – are they writing of some sort?”

  She cackled. “Writin’? Nah. ’S for the disappeared.”

  “The disappeared?”

  “Aye. Them as the Empire took. Children. Disappeared.”

  “But that was… hundreds of years ago!”

  “Aye. We don’t forget. Don’t never forget.” And she spat loudly into a metal bucket with a wet, pinging sound.

  We left in silence, and set off towards the barge.

  Our way back took us through wide streets lined with brothels and bars as well as shops, the patrons spilling out onto the streets, tankards of ale in their hands, or sitting on benches absorbed in some gambling game. They seemed happy with life, laughter and music drifting through open windows.

  Xando hesitated, but I didn’t want to go back the longer way we’d come. There were plenty of people about besides the drinkers, people going about their everyday business, carrying baskets of laundry or bundles of wood or jars of lamp oil. We’d encountered hostility before, but nothing worse than dark looks and spittle. So I tugged him along, and, because there were too many minds for me to cope with at once, I took his hand.

  People fell silent as we passed them by, but no one hindered us. We had almost reached the corner where we would turn down to our wharf, when one of the men, larger and fatter than the rest, stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

  I stopped, looking up at him, for he was a big man in every way, and raised an eyebrow at him. I’d been on streets like this enough times not to be intimidated by such people.

  “Excuse us, if you please,” Xando said politely.

  The man laughed. “Excuse us if you please,” he said in a high voice, trying to mimic Xando’s accent. “What do you want, Trannatta? You and your Akshara lover. Ha! A good pair you make.” And he spat in Xando’s face.

  I was still holding Xando’s hand, and I felt his raging emotions: fear mixed with anger and… something else. Protectiveness, I think. He wanted to protect me. Sweet, gentle Xando.

  He was quivering with fear, but he let go of my hand and stepped in front of me. “That’s enough!” he said. “Stand aside!”

  In Mesanthia that would have been enough to have every Akk’ashara and Dresshtian within range quaking. No Tre’annatha ever needed to raise their voice. But here his gentle tones had the opposite effect.

  The big man roared with laughter. Then he pushed Xando into the dirt, sending the vegetables flying.

  Without Xando’s calming hand in mine, all these minds were shoving their aggressive way into my head. But although they were hostile, they were not angry or afraid. Rather, they were amused by Xando.

  Well, not for long. I was not about to be pushed around by scum like this.

>   “How friendly you are to visitors,” I said, coldly. “As a reward, I have a present for you, my friend.”

  And I tossed my cloak aside and reached into a pocket to retrieve a flicker.

  I have never seen a crowd disperse so fast. One glimpse of my coat and there was pandemonium. There were cries of ‘Throwers! Run!’. Someone shouted ‘Mashikor! Mashikor!’, a corruption of the old name for flickers. The cry was taken up by others and then there was panic. They couldn’t get away from us fast enough. Within moments we stood in a deserted street.

  “Well, that was surprisingly effective,” I murmured, tucking my flicker away again. She twittered in disappointment, and the others hummed in sympathy. I reached a hand down to help Xando up. “Are you all right?”

  Xando nodded dumbly. I wiped the spittle from his face with my sleeve, and, after collecting up our vegetables, we went back to the barge.

  That night, for the first time on our journey, we set a watch. There was no trouble, but we left at first light, heartily glad to leave the place behind.

  32: Rain

  The new canal was well-kept, straight and wide, its original width doubled by the addition of a second canal parallel to the first. The narrow strip of land between the two waterways held the towpaths, and every few marks there was a small stone-built wharf on either side, with a shed to shelter the horse overnight.

  Early in the day, wisps of mist hung over the water, and great willows leaned drunkenly above us as we glided by, their elegant limbs brushing the water and providing shade and shelter for scores of water birds. It was a paradise after the busy larger canal and the depressing state of the last town we’d passed. We saw a couple of derelict strands early on, but after that we were amongst vines, row upon row of them, covering the hills and stretching off to the horizon, with hardly a worker or a village to be seen. After the drab end-of-summer brown fields we’d been travelling through, the sea of colour was a welcome change.

  Even the weather was benevolent at first. The heat was oppressive, and sometimes we saw heavy thunderclouds roll in, black and threatening. A few times we even saw flashes of lightning far off in the distance. But we had no storms to contend with, and the barge glided onwards, covering its allotted marks every day, and nothing held us up.

  This would have been a restful interlude, if only we had been talking to each other. When we had to speak, about the vegetables to be chopped or the water to be fetched, it was with a determinedly polite manner, and a stranger might not have noticed anything amiss. But beneath the facade, we all seethed with resentment. I was angry with Zak, Xando probably felt humiliated and angry with me and Zak, and Renni was angry with everyone.

  Even Zak’s perpetual amusement with life was subdued, hidden behind a cloud of vague worry and that thread of fear that had troubled me before. Outwardly he was calm, but inside he simmered with anxiety, with spikes of anger whenever Xando or Renni said anything. I hadn’t touched Xando since the incident in the town, so I had no idea what was going on in his head, but he was jumpy, snapping at all of us, then apologising stiffly. And Renni – well, she was even more irritating than usual, if that were possible, her whining voice assaulting my ears, filling my mind with her jealousy and misery.

  As for me, I hardly knew what I felt. Whenever I could, I walked along the towpath beside the patient horse, muffling the swirl of emotions from the others with a little distance. I couldn’t escape it entirely, but it was easier with some space between us. Occasionally, when we all sat down in the tiny cabin to eat, and I could barely breathe for the maelstrom battering my mind, it would suddenly damp down, as if a blanket had been thrown over us all, and I could detect Zak’s and Renni’s minds only dimly, as if underwater. The relief almost brought me to tears. But within a few heartbeats, it all came rushing back, as bad as ever. If only I could shut it out, as Xando did.

  Only at night, when everyone slept, was I free of it, with nothing but my own mind and my own feelings to deal with. But I was no nearer understanding myself. I still shared the silk sheets and soft pillows with Zak, but he hadn’t touched me again, undressing in silence each night, lying with his back to me, facing the wall. Side by side we lay wakefully in the dark, until eventually he slept and his mind fell silent. But I stayed awake, looking deep into my own heart and trying to make sense of it all.

  I still loved him, that was the worst of it. Despite all that had happened, he still drew me like a fly to honey. I wanted him so badly that I ached inside. I loved the way he looked at me with laughter in his eyes. I loved the feel of his fingers stroking me so delicately despite his strength. Most of all, I loved his joy in life that lifted my spirits, too. I needed someone to make me smile, to convince me that life was more than just a scramble for survival.

  But day after day we plodded onwards, making our way steadily towards our destination, but no nearer a resolution for the awkwardness of four people living in a very small space, and all of us unhappy.

  ~~~~~

  On the third day after entering this canal, the weather finally turned against us. Summer storms were very frequent here, and it would have been astonishing if we had escaped entirely. All afternoon the clouds had been building and building, draining the vines of their vibrant colours and clothing the whole eastern sky in shades of charcoal. We decided to stop early for the night, but by the time we’d found a wharf with a hut, the first fat drops were splattering the hot ground, and lightning was already flickering behind the hills. Then a crack of thunder nearby spooked the horse and we nearly lost her into the canal. It took all Zak’s strength to hold her, and Xando had to use a flicker to calm her.

  As we dashed back to the barge, rain was already hammering on the roof, and we were soaked. Zak set some stennish to brew, and brought out a box of dragon stones from one of the many cabinets in the bedroom. “We might as well pass the time until third table,” he said. “Who wants to play?”

  “Allandra?” Xando suggested tentatively.

  “No, I’ll watch. Renni?”

  She shook her head, the soft Tre’annatha curls bobbing violently. “Stupid game!” She scrambled into the hammock and turned her back on us all.

  Zak and Xando settled down to play, but it was immediately obvious that Zak had no idea of the game. He knew the rules and he played quickly, but he moved stones about randomly, without any thought of strategy. He was barely a worm, and certainly no match for Xando. I itched to interrupt him and correct his more blatant mistakes.

  After a while, when I couldn’t stand his mistakes any longer, I went through to the bedroom to read. But that didn’t work, either. They were still in my head, Renni’s grumbling resentment replaced by amusement, while Zak’s mind was steadily infused with anger.

  And then I heard shouting. Xando, it sounded like. Zak boiled over with rage, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe, the violence of his emotions slicing through my head like a knife.

  I staggered down to the cabin. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”

  They were standing, one either side of the table, glaring at each other, the stones scattered all over the floor.

  Renni was peering down from the hammock, grinning. “Just the men fighting. And it’s not even about you, for a change.”

  “Stop it,” I whispered. “Can’t… can’t stand it.”

  Xando’s face collapsed in an instant. “Oh, Allandra! I am so sorry. Here.”

  He held out his hand, and I grasped it as eagerly as a drowning man reaching for a rope. Xando was my saviour, he would shut out all the anger.

  But he didn’t. As soon as I touched him, Zak and Renni disappeared, it was true. But Xando’s own emotions were still churning. His anger had perhaps damped down, and there was sympathy there, too, and guilt, but even so it was too much for me to cope with.

  I dropped his hand and screamed. I didn’t mean to, but it just happened. Everything pressed down on me, and I had to get away. I fled across the cabin, my feet slithering on the spilled stones, pushing past Xando and
up the steps and out.

  Into the rain, and escape.

  I ran until a crack of lightning followed by a great rumble made me realise my folly. The pain in my head had receded to bearable levels. I was soaked through, shaking and disoriented, but I had escaped from the worst of it.

  There was something else, though, another kind of pain. Not sharp like Zak’s anger, but something deep-rooted, like an aching tooth. The pain of loss. Something missing.

  My flickers! I’d left my coat in the bedroom, and now I’d run too far. They were gone, not detectable to my still roiling mind. In a panic, I turned and raced back, my mind searching for them. Where were they? By the One, let them be safe…

  There they were! Very faintly, I caught their terrified distress. They hissed with pain, and as I drew closer to them, I knew they were writhing in their pockets, ready to crawl out and wreak havoc on a world which had taken their human away from them.

  I stopped, crooning to them in my mind. It’s all right, little ones, I’m safe. I’m coming back to you. Gradually they began to calm down, and I walked on.

  However, I was now close to the barge again, and prey to every stray emotion in Renni’s or Zak’s head. Thankfully, the worst of Zak’s anger was gone, but even so, I didn’t feel strong enough to face them yet. I found a tree with a broad canopy which gave me some slight protection from the rain sheeting down, and leaned against its solid trunk. When my legs refused to hold me up a moment longer, I slid down to the ground and sat, hugging my knees to my chest, and let misery overwhelm me. It was all too much, and I couldn’t stop the tears flooding down my face, mingling with the downpour.