She knew she was being childish, baiting him, but to her surprise he took her comment seriously.
‘Could be. Wouldn’t be the first time. But I dunno. This seems too … different. Too big an’ important for someone to let it slide like that. This call – I never picked it up.’
‘I don’t think you would. It’s too …’ Saria struggled to find a word to describe it, but couldn’t. ‘It’s directed at me. Nobody else.’
‘How does old Darri know about it, then?’
‘She said she gets it too. But directed at her, not me.’
‘How often you hear it?’
‘Whenever. I heard it when I was down that hole in Olympic, and again just before I burnt Dreamer Baanti.’
‘Was that the last time?’
‘No. It came last night while I was sitting on the hill outside town.’
‘Even though you reckon you ent listenin’ to the Earthmother?’
‘It’s different. It’s not like earthwarmth or anything. It comes through the Earthmother, but that’s not what it is. It’s too hard to hold back.’
For a long time nobody spoke. Around them, Woormra slumbered through the afternoon heat. Somewhere in the shadows of the huts a couple of insects ticked quietly, and from daywards a brief, hot breeze, little more than a stir of air, lifted the dust and settled it again.
‘You think this changes things, Dreamer?’ Dariand kept his voice neutral, but Saria could sense curiosity there.
‘Dunno. Probably, but …’ Abruptly he turned his attention back to Saria. ‘Darri reckon’s it’s your mum calling the two of you, does she?’
‘That’s what she said. She said she felt it too, sometimes.’
‘Hmm …’ The old man was lost in thought for a moment. Then he spoke to Dariand. ‘I gotta think ‘bout this. Both of you go back inside and get some rest, and I’ll talk to you later. In the meantime, Saria, I want you to stay with Dariand, right? No more wandering off. Not even for a little bit.’
‘But …’ Saria bristled, but the old man cut her off before she had a chance to argue.
‘No! I know you don’t think Dariand and I have got any right to order you about. I know you don’t reckon you can trust either of us, and I know you don’t think we’ve told you the truth. An’ perhaps you’re right. But for your own good, you gotta stay with him. Please?’
‘Why?’ To her surprise, Dariand asked the question before she had a chance.
‘Because if she is telling the truth;’ the old man held up a hand to stop Saria’s protest before she had time to give it voice, ‘and I got no reason to think she ‘ent, then it’s possible I’ve been wrong about everything else. Or perhaps it all fits together somehow. I dunno. That’s why I need some time to think. And that’s why we gotta keep her outa sight for the moment. If old Darri starts talking and word gets about the Darklands, then …’ He stopped himself. ‘Just keep her out of trouble, okay?’
The old man marched offacross the common. Dariand and Saria watched him go.
‘Come on,’ Dariand said wearily. ‘Let’s get out of this sun.’
Almost as soon as the sun slipped below the horizon, people started to gather on the common. From the door of their hut Saria sat hunkered on the ground watching glumly, the dog by her side. The ever-present earthwarmth pressed up below her and she shifted, strengthening her barriers against it.
‘It’s not fair,’ she said softly. Dariand, who was busy kindling the dung-fire, heard her.
‘It’s what Dreamer Wanji wants.’
‘If they’re having a town meeting about me, then I should be allowed to go to it.’
‘Dreamer Wanji doesn’t think people will talk straight if they know you’re listening in. This is a big thing he’s asking of them.’
‘I still don’t understand why he wants to tell everyone.’
‘Whatever this call thing is, he wants you to answer it. And to do that, it seems that you and I need to keep on travelling nightwards.’
‘So?’
‘So, he can’t just let you go off without explaining to the town. You know that.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s about hope, Saria. Everyone in Woormra has chosen to live here for one reason – Dreamer Wanji. He’s the one who’s kept the Darklands believing, who’s kept hope alive. He’s the only one who’s always believed there’d be a last child to bring about the end of the Darklands. He’s never wavered. And that kind of faith rubs off on people. Not just here in Woormra, but right though the Darklands.’
Dariand crossed to the doorway and flopped on the dirt beside her.
‘So if he’s gonna send you – the one thing that represents all that hope, the child who we made ‘em believe was dead all those years ago – if he’s gonna send you back out into a desert full of Nightpeople and who knows what else, then he owes them an explanation, eh? He can’t just resurrect their hope like that, then tear it all down again.’
Out by the well, most of Woormra had now gathered. The massed murmur of their conversations drifted through the evening, a restless buzz that reached Saria and Dariand as little more than indistinct babble. Somebody had lit a fire and people gathered around it, some sitting on the ground, most standing, and the growing flames cast their shadows into a leaping dance behind them. Even from where she sat, Saria could sense a kind of anticipation among the townsfolk.
‘If I’m so important to them, why don’t they like me?’
‘They don’t understand you, Saria. Even I don’t understand you, and I’m . .. I know you better than most. And after what happened with Baanti …’ He caught himself.
‘They’re scared of me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘But I’d never … I mean, I don’t even reach anymore!’ Saria leapt to her feet.
‘I know that. And so does Dreamer Wanji. But people are hard to convince, Saria. They don’t trust that a woman – let alone a girl like you – can reach at all, never mind doing it safely. They don’t trust that you won’t do to them what you did to Dreamer Baanti, even accidentally.’
‘I wouldn’t!’
‘Of course not. Do you think Dreamer Wanji and I haven’t told them that? But telling people something and proving it to them are two different things. Just because they don’t understand you, doesn’t mean these folk don’t still have a lot of hope pinned on you.’
Saria didn’t respond. Out by the fire, Dreamer Wanji had appeared and people were settling themselves, most sitting in a couple of rough circles around the old man. When he began speaking, he was too far away and spoke too softly for Saria to hear, no matter how hard she strained her ears.
Beside her the dog stirred, sensing her frustration, and she felt the tentative quest of his mind towards hers as he offered her his superior senses. No doubt he could hear every word clearly.
‘No,’ she whispered to him as she pushed his mind back.
‘What was that?’ Dariand shot her a quizzical look.
‘Nothing. Just thinking out loud.’
Over by the fire, things seemed to be heating up. One of the men standing at the perimeter interrupted Dreamer Wanji, the anger in his voice carrying clearly to them, even though his words didn’t. A couple of people nodded agreement with whatever he’d said. Somebody else shouted back and tension bristled across the common.
‘Why are they arguing?’
‘I imagine there are some who don’t want you to leave. Who’d like you to stay here and who’d force you to start reaching again so that you can be Dreamer for Woormra after Dreamer Wanji. Then there’ll be a few who still believe in Dreamer Wanji, and reckon you should be allowed to follow this call of yours.
‘What do you think?’
‘Me?’
‘Yeah.’ Saria looked Dariand straight in the eye. ‘Do you think I should follow it?’
‘Whatever you do, it’ll be me that Dreamer Wanji sends to keep an eye on you.’
‘You’re not answering my question.’
The nightwalker was silent for a long time.
‘I don’t know,’ he finally admitted. ‘I don’t really understand why you won’t reach. I don’t know what this “call” you talk about is – even Dreamer Wanji doesn’t. I don’t know if it’s a good or a bad thing. For all I know it could be the Nightpeople trying to trick you into giving yourself over to them …’
‘It isn’t that,’ Saria started to explain, but Dariand cut her off.
‘I’ve only got your word for that and even you can’t be certain. Nobody knows. All we can do is trust you. And Dreamer Wanji.’
‘Is that so hard?’
He didn’t answer. Over by the well, things had fallen into an uneasy silence while everyone listened to Dreamer Wanji again. Saria made another half-hearted attempt to hear what was going on, but quickly gave up. The force of her hurt at Dariand’s response surprised her. So he didn’t trust her. He didn’t believe she was right about the call. Why did that seem so unusual? She’d always known it. But still, something about his lack of faith in her stung more deeply than she’d imagined it would.
‘I want to believe you, Saria. I really do. But nothing’s turned out the way it was supposed to. Nothing. So I just don’t know.’
For some reason Gan’s words came back to her: Whatever happens, you’re gonna stir things up around here, an’ that’ll be a story to tell
Was that all she’d done? Stir things up. Destroy people’s hopes and dreams and upset their lives and all for nothing? Was that why Dariand didn’t believe in her either?
‘What should I do, then?’
‘Eh?’
‘What should I do? What if Ma Lee was right? What if I’m nothing more than a fluke? If me being born clean was just blind luck and everyone’s getting all worked up for nothing? What if this "call’’ is just my imagination? Where does that leave me?’
Sudden anger swept over her.
‘You and Dreamer Wanji dragged me away from my valley and from Ma. You told me I’ve got this big destiny and all this hope is resting on me and that I’m going to be the one to start building a new world. And now you say you’re not sure if you believe any of it anymore? Well, what am I supposed to do? Just go back to Ma? I can’t even do that now, can I? Because half the Darklands knows about me and there’ll always be another Dreamer Baanti, or Slander or one of that mob looking for me. But I can’t stay here where nobody trusts me, either. Can I? No, not even you!’ She didn’t give him a chance to protest. ‘I’ve got nothing left. I’m not going to reach anymore, because I’m too scared. And I can’t leave. I just don’t know …’
Saria took a couple of half steps out into the common as if to run, but was stopped by Dariand’s voice behind her
‘Saria! Wait!’
She spun back to face him, her anger unabated.
‘What?’
Dariand didn’t say anything as he rose and stepped towards her. He lifted his hands and for an instant she thought he was going to seize her and stop her running off again, but before she could react he grabbed her in a tight hug.
She froze, stunned.
‘It’ll be alright.’ His voice was low, a disembodied whisper in her ear. ‘Whatever happens, it’ll be alright. I give you my word. I’ll make sure of it.’
Suddenly she was aware of him, of the warmth of the arms around her, of the thudding of her own heart in her chest, of the strength of his hug. There was safety in that grasp, and in a sudden, startled moment of clarity she realised she hadn’t felt safe, not properly, since leaving the valley. Something inside of her seemed to break, and she half-choked back a sob.
‘Shh,’ Dariand whispered. ‘It’ll be okay.’
Then, suddenly awkward, he released her and stepped away.
Silence had fallen across the common, and as she struggled to pull her emotions back under control, Saria noticed that the murmur of voices from the fire had stopped completely. She looked up through tears to see every pair of eyes in Woormra staring back at her, the faces of the townspeople a mixture of shock, amusement and, on more than a few faces, fear.
But the one that caught her attention was Dreamer Wanji. Standing by the fire, his eyes were slightly narrowed, but other than that his face was a carefully constructed, blank mask.
And that, for some reason, scared her more than any of the others.
In the settling dark, the tableau seemed to hold forever. Then gradually it broke up, not suddenly but in bits and pieces. First a couple of people sniggered, then someone shushed them, which bought an angry retort, and gradually everything seemed to melt away.
A couple of feet away from her, Dariand stood awkwardly, staring at nothing and trying to ignore the questioning glances being thrown his way.
‘What is it? What’s their problem?’ Saria asked, but he just shook his head.
‘Later. Now’s not the time.’
‘You two might as well come over and join us, as long as you’re going to carry on like that.’ Dreamer Wanji strode over to them and lowered his voice to a hard whisper, directed squarely at Dariand. ‘What was that about?’
‘It was nothing,’ Dariand replied, and Saria felt colour rising in her cheeks.
‘Didn’t look that way to me.’ Dreamer Wanji nodded back towards the crowd. ‘Or to any of them, either.’
For a moment, Dariand looked as though he was going to answer back, but instead he simply stamped over and took up a position on the outskirts of the group without a glance back to see if Saria and the Dreamer were following. Beside Saria, the old man sighed.
‘Come on then. We’ve still got things to discuss.’
He walked back over to the fire, but Saria didn’t follow immediately. Instead, she glared at Dariand, who was now pointedly ignoring her. Nothing, he’d said. Well, at least she knew where she stood now. She stalked over and stood on the outskirts herself, as far from him as it was possible to stand.
Beside the fire Dreamer Wanji had resumed his position, and gradually the crowd fell silent again.
‘Now then, I was telling you all, as I see it there’s no reason what Saria’s told us should change anything. We always knew that the final child would be the one to end the Darklands. Who’s to say that lettin’ her follow this call isn’t the way that has to happen? We been waiting too long for something like this and we’re not gonna turn away from it now. As long as the Earthmother sees fit to keep talking to her …’
‘Not much good if she ent listening,’ somebody shouted from the shadows.
‘She’s listening,’ Dreamer Wanji shot back at the speaker. ‘Even if she thinks she isn’t.’
It was just like in the hut that afternoon, with Dreamer Wanji and Dariand discussing her as though she was invisible. Saria opened her mouth to shout at the lot of them, to tell them that she damn well wasn’t listening, wasn’t reaching, and that they could all go to the night spirits, but before she could get a word out, a light hand rested on her arm.
‘Shh, girl,’ Darri whispered. ‘Just let ‘em talk their talk. Nothin’ you say is gonna make any difference to this lot. Don’t worry, you’ll find our Jani. Trust me.’
She wasn’t sure why, but something in the old woman’s voice persuaded Saria to close her mouth again.
The argument went on and on. Dariand had been right, there were definitely two camps, those who wanted Saria to follow the call nightwards to the Darkedge, and those who didn’t. The one thing both had in common was that neither seemed to care one bit about what Saria either thought or wanted. The longer she listened, the harder it became to stay quiet.
‘… and if she won’t even do reaching for us, then why should we trust her to even follow that call, eh? Who’s to say she won’t just run off and get caught by that Olympic mob again? And perhaps that wouldn’t be a bad thing, either. At least they’d make her …
‘Dreamer Wanji!’
The shout came from the darkness and suddenly people were pouring into the common from between the huts. Armed with sticks and clubs, they
came from every direction. There were yells as a couple of stones flew from the shadows and into the crowd.
The people of Woormra turned to face the intruders, but most were still fire-blind and their old, bare fists were little use against the weapons their attackers carried.
All the same, scuffles broke out and in seconds the common became a nightmare of struggling bodies, screams and blood. Saria whirled in confusion, looking for an escape.
‘There she is! There! Get her!’ someone shouted, and a couple of hulking shadows detached themselves from one of the fighting groups. Saria stumbled backwards as they rushed towards her, only to be grabbed from behind.
‘Steady, girl,’ a voice growled, and an old man pulled her behind him. ‘Woormra’ll look out for you. Don’t …’
There was a sickening thud as a stone connected with the man’s temple, and he crumpled to the ground, blood welling from the wound.
Then the two attackers were almost on top of her. She dodged sideways, managing to evade the first, but before she could run the other one caught her, seizing her in a vice-like grip which almost crushed the air from her. The two men started fighting their way towards the edge of the common, one pulling her along close to his chest while the other used a heavy club to keep at bay anyone who might try to stop them. If they got to the edge of the fight, Saria knew she’d be lost. They’d drag her into the darkness of the alleyways, where they probably had more men waiting, and then nobody would be able to help her. She twisted and clawed, striking out at the grinning face of the man who held her and raking her fingernails across his cheeks. Warm trails of blood welled beneath her fingertips, the sensation both sickening and strangely satisfying.
The man screamed and his grip loosened slightly, giving Saria just enough leeway to wriggle around and stamp all her weight onto his foot.
‘Damn! How about a bloody hand here!’ he shouted, but nobody seemed to hear him. His escort with the club had vanished into the melee and everyone else in the attacking party seemed occupied with their own opponents.
The people of Woormra, with the initial shock of the attack behind them, had now rallied. Weapons of their own were appearing, they had the advantage of numbers, and the battle which a few moments earlier had looked to be all but over now raged anew.
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