by James Roy
‘Danda,’ she replied, her voice quivering. ‘I’m sorry that I’m being such a cry-baby, but nothing like this has ever happened to me before. Oo!’ she suddenly exclaimed, as the pod shifted slightly beneath them, and began to drop. ‘We’re moving!’
‘Yes, they’re sending us groundwards.’
‘Groundwards?’ said Tab. ‘But there is no ground. It’s just ocean down there!’
‘I don’t like this,’ Danda said.
‘Neither do I,’ said Verris. ‘So, we’ve got Tab the navigator, and Danda the interpreter, and the boy. You, boy – you’re not saying much. What’s your name?’
There was no response.
‘Maybe he’s dead,’ Tab suggested. ‘He hit the deck pretty hard when they threw him on.’
‘Hold on,’ Verris said, and Tab felt him wriggling past her. ‘He’s not dead – I can hear him breathing.’
The scout-pod continued to sink, buffeted and gently tossed in updrafts and air pockets as it descended. Tab closed her eyes under the cover of her sack and stretched her mind in every direction, feeling for anything that had eyes or other senses she could borrow, but there was nothing about. A very slight flicker appeared on the very fringes of her consciousness, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. Either they were already too far below Quentaris to enable her to reach the minds of anything in the city, or there was something about this pod that was blocking her mind-melding skills.
Then, as she squeezed her eyes shut and probed even further into the blackness, she felt a strange tingling about her wrists. ‘My ropes feel like they’re getting looser,’ she announced.
‘Mine too,’ Verris replied. ‘Just as those thugs said they would.’
‘They’re much looser now,’ Tab said. She began to pull her arms apart behind her, just a little at a time, trying to stretch the loosening ropes. And finally, like unravelling stitching, they fell away.
‘They’re off!’ she said, rubbing her wrists.
‘Then get ours off as well – we might be able to do something before we’re too far from the city,’ Verris said.
Tab pulled the sack from her head. The fresh air hit her face like a bucket of water, and she sucked in huge lungfuls of clean air as she looked around. In the dim light of the moon behind the thin cloud, she could see that the pod was like a small boat, only square, with railings instead of gunwales, and a stubby mast about six feet tall. In one corner was a barrel, in another some ropes were loosely coiled on the deck, a long sack lay against one side, and right in the middle of the pod was a chest, secured to the deck with two heavy metal straps.
‘I see the mission chest,’ she said.
‘Tab, untie me,’ Verris said. ‘Hurry!’
She crawled over to him and lifted the sack from his head. He blinked and looked around. Dirt or whatever else had been in the sack was caught in his untidy beard, and as soon as Tab had leant behind him and finished loosening his ropes, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and spat.
‘That is disgusting!’ he said. Then he smiled at Tab and threw his arms around her. ‘Tab Vidler! If I had to choose just one person to be on this ridiculous errand with, it would be you.’
‘It’s been so long, hasn’t it?’ Tab replied, trying not to wrinkle up her nose at his smell. ‘Where have you been?’
‘I’ve been – what’s the word? – languishing in one of Florian’s dungeons. I hear there was a rumour about me dying of a broken heart.’
‘Over a horse,’ Tab told him, and he smiled.
‘A horse? A woman, maybe, but a horse? What is wrong with these people? Come on, let’s get the others free.’
While Verris began to untie Danda, Tab went to the small, curled up bundle in the corner. This person wasn’t wearing a sack – he was simply wearing a blindfold. As she came closer in the moonlight, Tab began to recognise the face behind the blindfold. ‘Torby? Is that you?’ she said, even though she knew that it was. His blindfold fell away, and it was indeed Torby, his eyes open, staring blankly into nothingness as he lay on his left side.
Quickly Tab untied his hands, talking to him the whole time. Clearly whomever had kidnapped him didn’t know him very well – there was never any need to tie Torby up. He hadn’t moved for almost a year, so he was hardly likely to start now!
‘Torby,’ she said, hugging him close. ‘Why are you here, of all people?’
‘Oh my.’ Verris was standing behind Tab, looking down at her and Torby. ‘They took him? Why?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tab replied.
‘He’s so … What’s wrong with him? He was doing so well!’
‘He got worse just after the Archon died,’ Tab explained.
‘Didn’t we all?’ Verris replied. Then he looked up, and Tab followed his gaze. The dark underside of the floating city of Quentaris was now far above them. And below them, in the growing light of the overcast dawn, Tab could see the surface of the ocean.
‘Is there any land down there to settle on yet?’ she asked hopefully.
Verris walked to the railing and leaned out to look down. ‘Nothing but ocean,’ he said, narrowing his eyes. ‘Nothing but ocean,’ he repeated, in a thoughtful murmur. ‘I’m trying to remember.’
‘Remember what?’ asked Danda, who was now standing beside him. She was quite tall, with a long, angular face and straw-like white hair.
‘I’m trying to remember which world is all ocean. I can’t … I don’t think I’ve been here before … or have I?’ Verris shook his head again, more firmly this time. He seemed very frustrated with his failing memory. ‘I can’t remember, but I think it’s bad.’ He suddenly turned to Danda. ‘Apparently you’re our interpreter. What language do you speak?’
‘I speak several.’
‘Care to name them?’
‘Um … well, I do speak Unja.’
‘Who doesn’t?’ Verris replied. ‘What else?’
‘I also speak Thermali, quite fluently.’
‘Hmm, less common, but Thermali speakers aren’t exactly rare. Anything else?’
‘I know a little Tallis, and I can also speak … No, that’s about it. Yes, that’s all.’
‘You hesitated,’ Verris said, in a tone that, for some reason, chilled Tab’s blood. ‘What else do you speak?’
‘I told you, that’s it …’
‘What else do you speak?’ Verris insisted, his face suddenly very stern.
Danda’s voice was low, as if saying it quietly would make it less likely. ‘I also studied Yarka for a time.’
‘Yarka.’ Verris’ voice was just as quiet as Danda’s, but he said the word with a tone of dread that almost made Tab’s heart stop. ‘No one speaks Yarka.’
‘Except me,’ Danda said. ‘It’s true.’
‘Then that’s it. It makes sense, all that ocean. We’re going to meet the Yarka.’
Tab took a deep breath. To speak would be to break the moment, to make the feeling of horror that had descended over them feel completely real, rather than some kind of nasty dream. ‘What are the Yarka?’ she asked at last.
Silence.
‘Verris, tell me. Who – or what – are the Yarka?’
‘I don’t want to alarm you, Tab.’
‘It’s a little late for that,’ she said. ‘I’m supposed to be navigating, Verris, so you need to tell me. I deserve to know.’
‘Very well,’ Verris replied with a sigh. ‘Tab, even the Tolrushians are afraid of the Yarka.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘No, I don’t think you do. Whatever you imagine them to be, they are that much worse.’
‘Have you met them before?’ Tab asked.
Verris gave a humourless chuckle. ‘Met them? No. I did see a dead one in a jar of alcohol once, but they don’t tend to die very much. Perfectly suited to their environment. I’d always hoped I’d never have to meet them face to face.’
‘What do they do?’
‘Do? Whatever they want.’
‘I mean, wh
at do they have that we could want? Or need?’
‘The rumour is that they grow icefire, but I don’t believe it.’
‘Doesn’t it make sense?’ Danda said.
‘You tell us. You’ve studied the Yarka – what do they do?’ Verris asked her.
Danda shook her head. ‘I didn’t study the Yarka, I just studied their language. I know almost nothing about them. But don’t you think it makes sense that they grow icefire? Icefire’s what we need more than anything, and they’ve sent us on this … ridiculous mission.’
‘But why us?’ Tab asked. ‘There’s four of us, and that’s including Torby. It’s not much of an army.’
‘They didn’t want to send an army,’ Verris said. ‘If Quentaris was to assemble an army to fight the Yarka but we didn’t win, then we would lose many, many Quentarans for no reason. We can’t fight the Yarka, so we need to negotiate.’
‘Will that work?’ asked Danda.
‘The Yarka might be savage, but they’re also a proud race,’ Verris said. ‘They’ll hear us out.’
‘And if we don’t achieve what we have to achieve?’
‘Florian will send us again, or someone else.’
‘There is no one else,’ Danda said. ‘There was me, and my tutor, and she died almost a year ago. As far as I know, I’m the only one.’
Verris held her in a long gaze. ‘Then you’d better interpret well, hadn’t you?’
INTO THE WORLD OF THE YARKA
Torby wasn’t speaking. Tab hadn’t really expected that he would, but she had wondered if this sudden change in his situation might prompt him into movement, or even vague recognition.
‘Torby, I need you to talk to me,’ she said.
‘It’s no good,’ Verris said, squinting at the newly risen sun, sickly behind the cloud cover. ‘Don’t waste your time.’
‘It’s not wasted time,’ Tab replied. ‘I’m just trying to get something out of him.’
Verris reached down, took Tab’s arm and lifted her to her feet. His eyes were deadly serious. ‘I don’t mean that talking to friends is a waste of time. I’d like to hear Torby speak just as much as you would. But you need to use your time differently right now. You need to concentrate on this. It was in the chest.’ He held out a small notebook. On the front, in fine letters embossed into the leather, was a single word: ORDERS. Verris patted it. ‘You need to familiarise yourself with these. If you don’t, we’re never getting back up to Quentaris. Not you, not me, not her, and definitely not Torby.’
Resisting the urge to snatch it from him, Tab took the notebook and sat down to read it.
She read aloud: ‘Your mission is simple. Negotiate with the Yarka and attain some of their powerful gems.
‘Each of you is important to the success of the mission.
‘Verris is appointed with the task of leading the mission. He has not been chosen for his fighting skills, but for his skills as a leader and a negotiator. He has been kept alive for just this purpose – to fail would be to disappoint Us.’
‘No one will be more disappointed with failure than me,’ Verris said.
Tab half-smiled, then went back to reading: ‘Your Interpreter is one of the very few Quentarans who can converse with the Yarka. Protect her with the utmost diligence.
‘Your Navigator will guide you from Quentaris to the Yarka and, with all good luck and care, back again. The ocean is vast, and the Yarka difficult to find. The symbols and magical sayings …
‘They’re called incantations, you idiots,’ Tab muttered.
‘Keep going,’ Danda said breathlessly.
‘The symbols and magical sayings contained in the pages that follow will allow Stelka to guide you through the world of the Yarka. She will know how to use them.’
‘Hold on,’ said Verris. ‘Did you say “Stelka”? So why are you here, Tab?’
‘I don’t know,’ Tab replied. ‘I really don’t.’
‘But can you navigate for us?’
‘Of course,’ she said, hoping that her false confidence wasn’t showing. ‘There’ll be no problem at all.’
She returned to the orders: ‘For Quentaris to achieve what it wishes to achieve, three gems are required.’ Tab whistled. ‘Three!’
‘I know,’ said Verris.
She read on. ‘You should bring one gem each back to Quentaris, and your mission will be deemed complete.’
‘But if we bring back one gem each, we’ll have one too many,’ Danda interrupted.
‘Keep reading, Tab,’ Verris said.
‘The fourth member of your party shall remain behind as leverage payment. That is all.’ Tab frowned. Lowering her voice so Torby wouldn’t hear, she asked Verris, ‘So he has to stay behind?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘As their … I don’t know … slave? He has to live the rest of his life with these Yarka people?’
‘Not exactly,’ Verris replied.
‘All right, so they’re not people, but with these Yarka … creatures.’
‘Not exactly.’ Tab saw Verris exchange a quick glance with Danda, who lowered her eyes immediately. ‘Negotiations with the Yarka are quite simple, Tab. The chances of success are far greater if you have something to give them in return.’
‘That’s right. Like I said, a slave.’
Verris shook his head. His eyes were glistening as he levelled his gaze at Tab. ‘I’m sorry, Tab, not a slave.’
‘Then what?’
‘A sacrifice.’
Tab slumped to the floor of the scout-pod. It was as if someone had punched her in the gut, and all the wind had been knocked out of her. ‘Are you sure?’ she gasped.
‘You read it yourself,’ Verris answered. ‘The fourth member of the party will stay back as payment. And there’s only one member of our party who doesn’t have an important job to do.’
‘I think being a human sacrifice is a pretty important job, don’t you?’
Verris smiled grimly. ‘You know what I mean, Tab.’
Tab shook her head furiously. ‘No. No. It’s not going to happen. We’re all going back – all four of us.’
‘Child, be sensible,’ Danda said, reaching out to stroke Tab’s hair.
Tab pulled away. ‘Don’t try to make me feel better! And don’t call me Child!’
Danda’s voice was annoyingly calm. ‘All I’m saying is that if any of us wants to see our families again, we need to follow the instructions in that book there, to the letter. Don’t you see?’
‘I don’t have a family, and neither does Torby,’ Tab retorted. ‘Maybe that’s why they chose us, do you think?’
‘Tab, it’s not Danda’s fault,’ Verris said. ‘The orders are very clear. It has to be this way. Torby stays.’
Tab looked over at Torby. He hadn’t moved from his position in the corner, curled in on himself like a snail that’s been poked with a twig. ‘Keep your voice down,’ she hissed. ‘He might not be saying much, but he can hear every word. Then she went over to him, sank down by his side and stroked his face. ‘It’s all right, Torby. I won’t let them do anything to you,’ she said softly.
‘Tab,’ Verris was saying. ‘We’re nearly there. Time is short.’ He was holding out the book. ‘It’s time to be the Navigator you were always meant to be.’
‘I’ll be back,’ she whispered to Torby, who showed no response at all.
Tab took the book from Verris and opened it. ‘You’re in my light,’ she snapped.
Just as she expected, the pages were full of symbols and diagrams that would once have meant nothing to her. Even now, out of practice as she was, it took her a moment to get her head around them, but surprisingly quickly the understanding began to return.
‘I’m glad you know what you’re doing,’ Danda said, but she was quickly shushed by Verris.
‘So?’ he asked Tab.
‘Yes, I’m getting it,’ she replied. She turned to the copper-bound box and opened the lid. Inside was a small blue velvet bag, and a slightly larg
er green one. She also saw a humble hinged case, about the size of a child’s shoe, and made from a dark, dense wood.
And there, tucked down beside the bags and the wooden case was a rolled-up cloth, a little like a small tapestry rug, which she removed carefully – it was always good to be careful around magic, especially when it had been a while – and laid it out on the deck. She felt a tiny smile growing inside her as she saw more symbols on the tapestry, familiar, like old friends.
She slipped her hand inside the green bag and took out a tiny red claw, like an open hand poised to form a fist. It was mounted on a pedestal carved from aqua-green quartz-like rock. As she placed it on the tapestry she felt the finest feathery tingles passing through her fingers, but rather than feeling frightened by this, she found it to be yet another oddly comforting sensation.
Finally she opened the drawstring of the little bag. A sudden blue glow spilled from its mouth, catching everyone, including Tab, by surprise. She’d known what was in there, and yet she found herself forgetting to breathe as she reached in with trembling fingers and drew out a tiny fragment of icefire, no larger than a grain of rice.
‘Don’t drop it,’ Danda muttered.
‘Let the girl work,’ Verris said quietly. ‘She knows what she’s doing.’
Even in the growing daylight, their faces were brightly illuminated as Tab placed the tiny gem into the red claw. With a sound that was felt in the gut rather than heard, the gnarled fingers closed around it.
Tab allowed herself to breathe again. ‘Good,’ she said. ‘Verris, how far are we from the surface now?’ she asked as she pored over the pages of symbols and incantations once more.
Verris looked over the edge. ‘You’ve got two minutes, I’d say, maybe three.’
‘That should be about right,’ she said. ‘And it’s still just ocean?’
‘Just ocean.’
‘All right, I need silence,’ Tab instructed, throwing a telling glance at Danda. Then, passing her hands over the bright gem, she began to read from the book.
She didn’t need words – the symbols were a language all of their own – but they were a language that could never have been written in any other script. They started as something quieter than speech, more like a low guttural growl, and drifted between the growl and wordless, breathy sighs, like the cries of a baby who has lost its voice. Tab had no awareness of how long the incantations went on, but when she reached the end, she sat back on her haunches and tried to catch her breath. It was as if someone was squeezing her chest.