‘Why are they staring?’
‘Don’t worry, they’re harmless.’
One of the women broke from the group and rushed towards them. She was gaunt and thin, her clothes so tattered they looked as if they might drop off her at any moment. As she approached, Saria drew closer to Dreamer Wanji.
‘That’s her! That’s her!’ The old woman pointed a gnarled finger and shouted. ‘They told me and I said to meself, "Psht, that girl was dead as she came outa her mum, she was," and I remember ‘cause I was there when Dreamer Wanji burned you, and I remember all that, right? But they all reckoned you were here, and …’
She reached and stroked dry, grubby fingers through Saria’s hair and down her face, touching her eyes and lips, probing and feeling as if to make certain that Saria was real.
‘It is you, isn’ it? You’re Jani’s kid? Eh?’
Dreamer Wanji took the old woman gently by her shoulders.
‘Darri, quiet now.’
‘Hah!’ The other women had walked over now and a tall one in the back laughed. ‘After what she did to that old bastard Dreamer Baanti, she got no call to be scared of Darri here.’
The women chuckled, but the sound wasn’t friendly. It was dry, the laugh of people finding mirth in something grim.
‘Quiet now,’ snapped Dreamer Wanji. ‘All of you shut it, right?’ The women fell silent immediately. ‘She had a long night and I wanna get some food into her and get her off to sleep, so you all let her be for the moment.’
‘I bet that’s not all he wants to get into her!’ the skinny one muttered, and they started chuckling again.
‘Come on.’ Dreamer Wanji took Saria’s arm and led her forward, and the women parted to let them through.
‘What happened to Dreamer Baanti?’
‘Eh?’
‘That woman said I’d done something to Dreamer Baanti.’
‘Just follow me now and we’ll talk about that later.’
‘I want to know.’
‘You just gave him a nasty shock, eh? He wasn’t expecting you to fight him back. Now let’s get you somthing to eat.’
On the other side of the common, they entered a hut no different from any of the others.
‘Dariand!’ Wanji called from the door. When there was no answer, he led her in. ‘Must be hunting.’
The remains of a fire burned in a fire circle and beside it some bits of freshly cooked meat rested on a flat piece of tin, a few flies buzzing at them.
‘Left us some tucker, though. Here.’ Dreamer Wanji shooed away the flies and offered the platter to Saria.
The meat was still warm, a small pool of thin juices around it, glazing it with a fatty coat, and Saria bit into it. Juices ran down the back of her throat. As she swallowed, she could feel the weight of it slide down inside her. She took another small piece and ate that too, and then another.
Dreamer Wanji also started to eat, and soon both of them were full. Only some bones and scraps remained on the tin platter.
‘You found the food, then.’ Dariand was standing in the doorway. As usual, he had approached without a sound.
‘Yeah. Good tucker. Thanks.’ Dreamer Wanji twisted to look at him. ‘Where you been?’
Dariand threw a quick glance at Saria.
‘Out.’
Some wordless communication passed between the two men, and Dreamer Wanji nodded.
‘Fair enough. You happy for the girl to bunk down with you in here?’
A look of alarm crossed Dariand’s face.
‘Shouldn’t she stay with you or one of the women?’
‘No. I’m an old bloke, without the energy to look after a young pup like her. And I’d rather she didn’t listen to all the rubbish and stories those old hags by the well make up.’
‘You told me to bring her here to Woormra,’ Dariand interrupted. ‘You never said I’d be keeping her.’
‘It’s just for a while. Until I can get her trained.’
‘Trained?’
‘Teach her how to use her reaching properly. Show her how to control it.’
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Now Dariand looked even more alarmed. ‘After …’
‘Not just wise, necessary.’ Dreamer Wanji didn’t give him a chance to finish. ‘She’s got more power than anyone else on the council. More than anyone I’ve ever met. You’ve seen what she can do already and she’s still young.’
‘But she’s got no control …’
‘She can learn it. Would you rather I left her the way she is now?’
Dariand didn’t answer.
‘If anyone’s gonna be able to find a way out of the Darklands and start building a new people, it’ll be her. So I’m gonna give her every bit of teaching I’ve got to help her do it.’
Saria was sick of them discussing her as though she wasn’t there.
‘Build a new people? What do you mean by that?’ she demanded. Both men turned to her, clearly startled.
‘Don’t worry about it …’ Dariand began, but Dreamer Wanji cut him off.
‘Time’s up for us Darklanders, Saria. We’ve run our race, eh? But the only hope we’ve always had is that one day someone will get outside and start over. Make a new, strong bunch of Dreamers who’d be able to help the Earthmother heal. That’s you. That’s why I told you all that stuff down in the chamber. You’re gonna have to know everything about our history, so that you can start puttin’ together our future.’
‘How do you expect her to get out? You’ve seen the Darkedge. The only way she’ll ever get over that is if Slander and his bunch win out and hand her over to the Nightpeople. And what good’ll that do us, eh? Even if by some miracle she can find a way out of the Darklands, what’s there gonna be on the other side for her? Nothing. Not other Dreamers, that’s for sure.’
Dreamer Wanji shook his head in disagreement.
‘Dariand, mate. You’ve always been the one with faith. Don’t let it go now, eh? Give us a chance. We Darklanders started when the Dreamers and the Skypeople mixed ourselves together. Now we’ve got a chance to do it again.’
No reply was forthcoming and the old man stepped outside into the heat of the early afternoon.
‘Let her rest up today and tonight,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Tomorrow we’ll start teachin’ her some proper reaching.’
Dreamer Wanji left and Dariand, sighing, turned back to Saria.
‘We’d better get you somewhere to sleep.’
Saria looked about. The inside of the hut was stark, bare, without any of the touches that she’d become used to living with Ma Lee. Dariand’s own sleeping mat lay on the ground beside the fire circle, and there were a couple of rough tin cooking implements beside it, but otherwise, that was it. As she made her survey, she became aware that Dariand was watching her closely. Something in the way he regarded her sent an uncomfortable itch up her back.
‘If you don’t want me to stay here …’ she began, but he didn’t let her finish.
‘No. If Dreamer Wanji says you stay with me, then that’s what you do.’
‘Do you always do everything Dreamer Wanji tells you?’
She hadn’t meant the question to sound rude, but that stony expression of anger crossed Dariand’s face.
‘Most of the time,’ he snapped, before stalking outside.
He was back a few moments later with an armful of bedding.
‘Here.’ He unrolled a sleeping mat similar to his own and placed it beside the fire, piled a couple of old blankets on it, then set about gathering his own sleeping gear together.
‘What are you doing?’
‘Moving this stuff.’ He lugged his gear over to a spot by the far wall, on the opposite side of the fire and as far as possible from the sleeping place he’d just set up for her.
‘Why?’
‘To give you room,’ he grunted.
‘You’ll get cold if you sleep that far from the fire,’ Saria protested.
‘I’ll be fine.’
‘B
ut …’
His look was enough to silence her.
‘Now,’ he said when he’d finished setting up his bedding, ‘I’m going out again. You stay here and rest, and I’ll be in later.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I have things to do.’
Saria wondered what ‘things’ could possibly need doing in a place as tired as Woormra.
‘Can’t I come?’
‘No. You heard what Dreamer Wanji said. It’s sesta time, anyway, so get some sleep.’
He didn’t give her an opportunity to argue further, and left abruptly.
Saria sat on her mat for a while. She even went so far as to lie down and close her eyes, but sleep resolutely refused to come. Finally she sat up with a sigh.
Woormra was a disappointment, she had to admit. After all the walking and wondering, she couldn’t believe that all she’d come to was an empty hut in a dirty town full of old people. Dreamer Wanji talked in riddles she couldn’t understand, and Dariand was surly and made her feel more useless than ever.
Start a new people. It would be nice to think that she was going to somehow save the Darklands, but Saria knew there was no point fooling herself. Even Dariand didn’t believe the old man any longer, and something had changed in his manner towards her, too, leaving Saria with the uncomfortable impression she’d done something to offend him. When Dariand had delivered her to the entrance to the council chamber the night before, he’d been … different. The way he’d spoken to her, and the soft press of his finger against her lips – there was no hint of any of that in the way he’d just spoken about her with Dreamer Wanji.
Soft footsteps padded around the back of the hut and something scraped against the tin wall. She wondered if it was Dariand returning, but a couple of moments passed and there was no sign of him.
From the other side of the wall, a dull thud echoed softly as whoever was out there flopped to the ground.
‘Dariand?’ Saria called.
No answer.
Silently, Saria rose and crossed to the door, slipping out into the heat of the afternoon. Woormra was quiet as she walked around the corner of the hut and into one of the alleyways that opened onto the central common. Keeping the wall of Dariand’s hut on her left, she followed it around to where the noise had come from.
At first she didn’t see it. Crouched in the shadow of the hut, its reddish-yellow coat was almost the same colour as the dirt on which it lay.
‘Dog?’
The animal looked up at her, and gave its tail a single, exhausted twitch.
She could tell it was in a bad way. Its eyes were shot through with red and its tongue lolled from the side of its mouth. Even lying still, the animal’s breathing was fast and shallow.
Without hesitation, Saria crouched and reached for its mind. Earthwarmth flowed into her easily and as she touched the dog she knew right away its exhaustion and thirst. Something else she knew: it wasn’t here because of Dreamer Baanti. It was here because of her.
‘You poor thing.’
Saria rushed back to the hut and seized a water-skin and the remains of her meal. She was carrying them back to the animal before she realised that she was still reaching into the dog’s mind.
The animal lapped greedily at the nozzle of the water-skin as Saria held it to his mouth. In a couple of minutes it had drained the whole bag. It was less interested in the food, so Saria left the scraps there while she went in search of more water. There was no more in the hut, but she spotted the well through the open doorway.
Quickly, she made her way across to the low stone wall, aware all the time of the gentle contact between the dog’s consciousness and her own.
Around the well the ground was muddy – a thick red paste where people had slopped their buckets while decanting water. A long, knotted strand of rope made from various lengths of cloth and leather, lay coiled on the ground. To one end of this was tied an old tin bucket sealed with some sort of gum, and the other end was firmly knotted around a couple of large, heavy stones, an anchor that would take two men to move.
The wall around the hole was the height of Saria’s knees. The stones it was made of had been fitted together and cemented with red mud. Leaning over the parapet, Saria stared down into the well.
The sensation was uncomfortably like looking into Dreamer Baanti’s eyes. The round, dark hole seemed endless as it dropped deep into the Earthmother.
A few small red pebbles littered the ground and Saria picked up the biggest and dropped it in. The splash was a long time coming, but told her all she needed to know.
The dog’s thirst was still an insistent pressure overlaying her own senses, and without further hesitation she picked up the tin bucket and lowered it into the hole as fast as she dared. It bounced a couple of times against the walls of the well shaft, and she feared that the echoing ‘clang’ which resounded up from the hole would attract someone’s attention.
Nobody emerged from the surrounding huts, though, so she kept feeding the rope down and down until it abruptly went slack in her hands.
For one horrible, panicky moment she thought that the bucket had come untied, and imagined Dariand’s response when he found out. Then the rope slowly went taut again, and she realised she’d simply reached the water and the bucket took a little time to sink.
After giving it what she thought would be enough time to fill completely, Saria hauled back. The weight of the now laden bucket came onto the line, and she realised her mistake.
Full, the bucket was far heavier than she could manage on her own. After just a couple of pulls her arms were burning, and the rope started to slip through her hands.
She gritted her teeth, set her jaw, and held on.
If there were some way to spill some water from the bucket down below, she might be able to lighten it. But it was all she could do just to hold the rope and pull it upwards, let alone jerk it around enough to splash water from it.
Sweat poured from her forehead as she pulled again and again. When, after what seemed like an age, she looked at the line coiled on the ground around her feet, there was a disconcertingly small amount of it there. She stopped pulling and, as carefully as she could, lowered her hands until the stone lip of the well took some of the weight from her arms.
With a start she noticed that she’d lost her reach to the dog’s mind. It had vanished somewhere during her struggle with the bucket. She was on the point of letting go the rope and rushing back to check on the animal when Dariand leaned over her and took the rope from her burning hands.
‘I thought I told you to rest.’ There was a trace of anger in his voice, but he controlled it as he concentrated on pulling the bucket up.
‘I ran out of water.’
‘Really?’ He stopped pulling long enough to raise one unbelieveing eyebrow in her direction. ‘You must have been thirsty. I left you a skinful.’
‘I was.’
He pulled on the rope a little longer, and finally the bucket sloshed up from the darkness.
‘There.’
She picked up the empty skin and tried to fill it, but ended up slopping more water on the ground than into the container.
‘Let me.’ Dariand took the bucket and skin from her, and filled it expertly, quickly pressing the swollen water-skin into her hands. ‘Now, get back to the hut and sleep. I’ll be in soon.’
She watched him go. He was so confident she’d obey him that he didn’t even glance back to make sure of it. Saria considered following him, but then remembered the dog.
Back in the shadow of Dariand’s hut, she was relieved to find that the animal was fine. It was still collapsed in the dust where she’d left it, but was much less distressed. The first lot of water had clearly had a positive effect, so much so that it was chewing vigorously on one of the bones she’d left.
‘Here.’ She crouched beside the animal with the new water. To her surprise, it cringed back from her, a low rumbling growl forming at the back of its throat, its forepaws clo
sing protectively around the bone.
‘It’s okay.’ She reached for it again, and touching its mind was filled with the creature’s fear – fear that she was going to try and take its food.
She wasn’t sure how to reassure it. She wasn’t even certain that she could. So slowly, gently, Saria withdrew from its mind and left it there chewing greedily in the shadow of Dariand’s hut.
It was still early, the sun barely above the horizon behind them, when Saria met Dreamer Wanji on the nightwards edge of the township. He greeted her as he had every morning.
‘Mornin’, Saria. Ready to do some reaching?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You feel the Earthmother this morning?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Good. Let’s go.’
She followed him out into the desert, away from the town and wondered what he had in store for her today. Since they’d started the lessons he’d never put her through the same thing two days in a row. Sometimes he’d lead her out into the plains until the sun was high and then let her lead them both back to town. At other times he’d find a creature, usually a skink or a dust devil, and she’d have to reach into it; but she’d have to do it from a distance, or without looking at it, or any one of a hundred other variations. On other days they’d just walk, all day, seemingly without direction at all, while he pointed out various features in the land and the sky.
This morning they walked almost directly nightwards, away from the sunrise. Dreamer Wanji led, not in his usual gentle ambling gait but with purposeful strides. Saria was impressed that an old man could manage such a pace. Even Dariand would have had trouble keeping up.
As usual, they walked in silence. Once she was certain Dreamer Wanji’s attention was elsewhere, Saria cast her mind out a little and sure enough, as always, there was the dog, shadowing them just over a small crest to their left. It sensed her reaching towards it and started to open its own awareness back, so she withdrew quickly again. She didn’t know whether Dreamer Wanji or Dariand knew about the animal and for the moment she wanted to keep things that way.
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