Lord of Dust

by Erme Lander

  Another small room, someone is sprawled in front of the fire, his boots on a stool. His hair is greasy, clothes better kept and in brighter colours than Talia’s. He’s my age, better fed than most I’ve seen and with a wary intelligence in his eyes. He stares, assessing us as we walk in.

  “Where’s Martie?” His voice is petulant.

  “Not here. You’re Bay?”

  “I’ve told Martie to stop giving my name out. Why shouldn’t I have you thrown out?”

  “I got something for someone. Worth something it is.”

  Talia stalks around the room, eyeing him as she talks. Half the conversation I don’t understand, scraps of comments, rumours. I wonder where this is leading as they spar with words, I can’t tell who’s winning. Talia has a charm about her when she’s talking like this, one that hasn’t come out when she’s spoken to me. Her hands wave as she talks and her face lights up with a sly appeal.

  Bay in turn pretends indifference, his fingers play with a necklace and a shadow shifts under his chair. A large head pokes out and yawns. A dog with the most perfect set of teeth I’ve seen so far on either man or beast slides out. The boy drops his hand down and pulls the dogs ears gently, smirking at Talia twitching away.

  He asks about the factories and I see the flash in Talia’s eyes at the sudden curiosity on his face and I realise he’s not been down there. She fills him in, including what I’ve told her about the workers not daring to revolt. Uneasy at the casual betrayal, I shift the weight off my feet and catch Bay’s attention.

  “What about him, he doesn’t look useful.”

  “Leave him, he’s important. He lays out the dead.” Bay flinches. I open my mouth to say that actually I only work in the office and shut it again. If these nobs can help then any advantage I can gain for us is good.

  I decide to act smart and try to ignore my heart thumping. “I liked your funicular railway.” Bay looks blank. “The one that brings the wool down to the mills. It’s a good idea to use gravity to pull the carts up after they’ve been emptied. Wasn’t something I was expecting here.” I manage to sound condescending.

  “Told you he was special.” Talia’s face is a mirror image of the cat in my shed. Bay is puzzled at the difference between my words and appearance.

  I lean against the wall, feigning boredom. “Would be interesting to know how your supply chains work. Obviously you keep your stock behind the wall?” My stomach’s churning, I’m dreadful at this sort of thing. Talia’s examining her nails, a smirk on her face. Bay tightens his lips, unsure how much I know. I wander over to the fire and leave him to stew. Proper fires are rare from what I’ve seen and I make the most of it, warming my legs.

  Bay narrows his eyes and walks to the shuttered window. “Look,” he says and flings it open, making the fire flare.

  We’re high on the inside of the wall. Well above the mist, the sun shines on paradise. Plateau after plateau of grasslands stepped high up the mountain side. In the distance I see the mountain, cone shaped and smoking gently. My gaze falls to the window sill and the familiar ash covering it.

  Small woods are dotted throughout and a lake is close by. I can see the inside curve of the wall, doorways and windows leading out, but very few people using them. The amount of land contained must be enormous. Sheep are scattered across the pastures, nothing larger and I realise I haven’t seen any large animals on the other side of the wall either. Any carts here are pulled by hand. Talia is staring, the green is almost hypnotic after the grey of the city.

  Bay’s come to a decision while we’ve been gaping. “I’ll help you but I’ll need something to smooth the way.” Talia glances at me once, no doubt weighing me up against the price of another middleman to please. He shuts the window and waves a hand, “You may use my name once more.”

  Subdued by the riches she’s been shown, Talia nods and leads me out. She’s silent as we walk. The doorman shows us out with a smirk, the plebs shown their place. At some point I realise we’re not going back the way we came.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Aren’t you hungry nob?” I don’t need to answer, my stomach grumbles for me. She chuckles. “Need to get some food.”

  “More rat?” I try not to sound too disgusted, although it hadn’t tasted as bad as I’d thought.

  “Nah, need other stuff. You eat too much. Here.” She goes through the bag and shoves a bundle into my hands. When I look dim, she rolls her eyes and mimes wrapping it around my head and shoulders. “Igren’s men’ll be looking for you.” I cover my head hastily, leaving the ends to dangle over my shoulders like a scarf.

  Another square, the fourth edge dropping off into the sea. I peer over and Talia pulls me back sharply. There must be at least a ten foot drop and then rubble below, exposed by the tide. On the other two sides, ruined buildings lead into the water, more gradually appearing as the tide drops still further. The smell is incredible here, salt, seaweed and sewers. At the far end of the square, people are lining up to be served at tables, presenting something. Money? I realise I’ve nothing to give. I pat my pockets and find the silver coin.

  “Is this worth anything?”

  Talia snorts in laughter, “Only if you fancy one. Still...” She plucks it from my hand and pretends to flutter her eyelashes at me as I groan. “Don’t worry nob,” Talia gives me a friendly shove. “I’ll get plenty for you.”

  She sobers abruptly and remains wary the whole time we’re in line, tense and constantly looking to see who’s around. We reach the front to the queue, Talia hands over a small grey disc, half the size of mine and gets a bag of something. She dumps the bag in my arms and motions me to stay behind her. The bag slops in my arms, it feels like rice and knobbly vegetables.

  I shift it into the shoulder bag as Talia stops to talk in a low voice to an old man with a much younger boy leading him. I stand and stare out into the waves. The sun arcs through the mist behind me and they clear momentarily, revealing the city to be a disaster zone under the waterline, ruined buildings are half collapsed shadows as they reach into the distance. The water is oily closer in and reflects the sun, burning my eyes. I squint, a grey smudge on the horizon shows probable land and then the mists roll back in. Talia takes hold of my arm and marches me back in the direction of her home.

  “Is it ever clear?” I ask, sparks lighting up my vision. She grunts, still looking for trouble. “What’s up?” I try not to look as though I’m looking, knowing I’ll fail in her eyes.

  “It’s dangerous to queue up.” We’re walking fast. “People want to know about you, where you’ve been. Where you sleep and if you’ll join them.” Having met up with Igren, I guess the joining won’t be voluntary.

  “Those people you were talking to, do you trust them?”

  “No. I’d sell them as fast as they’d sell me if I had to.”

  “Then why...”

  “Information. Now walk.” We leave the people behind and she begins to relax. We stop so she can check to make sure no one’s following.

  “What now?” My feet are aching and my stomach is touching my backbone.

  She grins and pokes the bag I’m carrying, “Food.”

  Chapter 9

  Talia is a surprisingly competent cook when not forced to roast rat. The bag contains lentils and a few vegetables. The remaining ingredients go into a sealed jar, tucked back into its hidey hole. I wait impatiently for the lentils to cook through.

  To pass the time, I say, “I saw the city going underwater.”

  “Yeah, you used to be able to walk all the way to the mainland once.”

  “When? How do you know?” The guard hadn’t known.

  Talia shrugged, not caring, “Someone told me.”

  “What happened?”

  “The waters came up, only the people on the island managed to escape.”

  “When?” I’m fascinated. I remember reading about the low lying land of the English Channel and the waters flooding the marshes between. I wonder what it must have be
en like. A huge tsunami wave breaking everything in its way or just the waters rising relentlessly with the people fleeing in front? I shudder, die fast or die slow.

  She shrugs again, “Dunno, it happened a long time ago. Nobody believes me.” Disgust fills her voice, it’s the end of the conversation as far as she’s concerned.

  A mug is produced and dipped into the thin soup. I see her wavering and motion for her to take her share first, despite my own hunger. She doesn’t hesitate, barely waiting for it to cool. She slurps at the dregs and fills it again for me. I find myself gulping it down in a similar way and she laughs. It steams and fills my belly. We share the rest of the pot and she swills the cup out, tucking it upside down into a corner to drain.

  She stands and stretches, “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Diggin’.”

  We walk for what feels like miles. With Biggles on a lead and breakfast inside, I’d happily walk for hours. The soup has filled me but also sloshes alarmingly in my stomach. I glance around, the scenery hasn’t improved, just become more ruined. More sky shows through empty windows, rubble across the streets. A huge viaduct marches across the skyline, one of the few structures I’ve seen in good repair.

  “What does that do?”

  “Carries water.” Her replies have been short all the time we’ve been walking, she doesn’t want to talk. I’m also uneasy, too aware of eyes watching from the doorways or is it my imagination? A gleam of teeth and a shadow moves. Talia stoops, grabs for a stone and throws it. A yelp and a dog skitters away. She grunts her satisfaction. My wariness increases. When was my last tetanus jab? I try to remember the symptoms and I step more carefully, keeping an eye on my footing.

  This part of Narith is stepped into the hill, a series of house sized buildings half buried in a land slip rather than the factories I’d seen so far. We pick our way between the houses, the streets must be buried metres deep. So many of them are falling to pieces. The tsunami, a huge moon and the smoking cone in the distance across the plateau lands – was this earthquake territory as well?

  There’s nobody around, I’ve not seen anyone for ages, this part is deserted. Talia stops and glances about, she doesn’t appear to be taking any chances. She catches my hand and drags me to a window. I’m larger than her and have to squeeze through. She tests each step she takes down a half rotted staircase. At one point we climb, sliding our feet into holes in the walls. Talia guides my feet, I can barely see now. We move down with every step and I become conscious of the weight of the earth above me.

  The staircase comes to an end and she pulls at me, to go through the bag I carry, not bothering to ask. A candle is lit, illuminating the room we stand in. Earth and rock, the walls are thick with decay. Plaster is coming off the walls in lumps, and large cracks showing through the brickwork. Another gap in the floor to the side of us, the wooden steps long gone.

  “This lot’s been cleared out years ago.” She catches my look, “We’re going further in. The rest were too chicken. There’s good findings down here.”

  Too chicken, I gulp. I can see the earth tumbled around one end of the room, the black space of the empty stairwell close by. Water drips, it’s quiet here or would that be quieter? Outside in the street had been quiet enough. Little to be heard of the factories working to supply the nobs on the hill and only the occasional wisp of smoke betraying a fire.

  “What sort of findings?”

  “Stuff.” She moves towards the stairwell, the candle wavering. Our shadows are huge, supplemented by the stains into grotesque figures. She carefully drips wax onto the oddly shaped plate she’d taken from the bag. I realise its purpose when she clenches it between her teeth, the candle pointing away from her face. Talia clambers down like a monkey. Given the choice between staying on my own in the dark and going further into danger, I follow.

  The climb isn’t as bad as it looks. The earth slide has come into the stairwell and we shift around larger rocks. Talia stops in an opening and takes the plate out of her mouth. “Stop here.”

  She breathes heavily and places the candle on the floor, readying herself for a coughing fit. We’re in the room below. The earth has broken through in one corner, swallowing it slowly, inch by inch.

  Talia wipes her mouth and picks up the candle. “This way.” She leads me through a rectangle of blackness. It’s a warren down here, a whole buried city.

  To hide my nerves, I start talking quietly about the subject that’s been bugging me since I got here. “What do you know about the grey men?” She glowers at me and I’m not sure if it’s me speaking or the subject.

  “They been leaving dead bodies all over the city for years.” The whites of her eyes show in the candlelight. Her voice is tight. I don’t blame her for not wanting to talk about them, I’ve only seen them a few times and the results scared me.

  “One got to a man before I was taken to Igren’s factory. Everyone ignored him, what happened to him?”

  “Don’t you know?”

  “Why should I?”

  She stops to consider me. “They look like you.” I think back to both the grey figures I’d seen, I couldn’t remember much, only a dizziness that pulled. Their faces had been mostly hidden by the hood, I’d no idea if they looked like me or not. Talia’s face is a pale circle in the dimness, the soft candlelight kind to the harsh lines and dirt on her face. We have a moment when we’re not fighting, she’s as curious as I am. Then she snorts and breaks the moment, jerking her head. “This way.”

  Another stairwell, this one tighter. One breath from Mother Earth and we’ll both be taken into her cold embrace.

  “Here.” Even Talia’s voice is quieter, the usual edge gone. She wriggles around a corner and I see the signs of digging. She grabs for the bag again, pulling out a trowel. She moves the earth aside with short sharp sweeps, shifting larger rocks with a practised hand. Without being asked, I hold the candle up to help and she nods her approval.

  Something catches her eye. A careful flick uncovers a tiny figure, no larger than her hand. It’s corroded and green with age. Talia picks the soil out from around it and curls her fingers to pick it up. She motions at me to open my bag and places it inside, with more care than I’ve seen her use yet.

  “Is it good?”

  She shrugs, “Maybe. I’ll clean it off and see.”

  She scrapes the removed earth into a spoil heap behind her, moving forwards slowly. A patter of soil and another gleam is revealed. This time it’s long and thin. Talia’s trowel traces the outline. It’s bigger, something intricate. I find myself pointing out the specks in the dimness. We’re both absorbed in the discovery. It’s big, small cogs and wheels can clearly be seen. It’s some kind of machine. I can see the gleam in Talia’s eyes, she wants this. I share her feeling I also want to take this home and wash it, I point out parts she wouldn’t have noticed as she scrapes away. It’s so complex, my fingers are itching to mend it and make it work. Several figures are on top and traces of paint still show in the candlelight.

  Talia leans back to shake her hair out of her face and points to the overhang above. “Need to clear this.”

  She slices decisively and I jump at the groan as the earth shifts, the terror of being buried alive rising to squeeze my throat. Talia’s eyes and trowel are everywhere, catching planes of earth to let it patter harmlessly onto the floor. A muffled sound and the pile in front moves, a trickle of water pools from the base and finds its way past my feet. The machine is covered, I’m sure it’s twisted beyond repair.

  I’m sweating. “It’s gone, can’t we leave?”

  Talia shakes her head, “That stuff’s worth something.”

  She jumps back as the soil heaves and rushes towards us. Totally unnerved, my voice breaks as I squeal. The earth stops by my ankles.

  I say with as much authority as I can, “Talia. I’m leaving.”

  “Fine. Leave.”

  She takes the candle from me, goes back to the pile where the machi
ne is hidden and starts scraping. I’m left in the dark of the doorway, staring at the dark earth in the candlelight. Talia’s having to dig one handed.

  I don’t want to stay. The black stairwell looms in my mind, how can I climb back up knowing she’s down here? I imagine trying to bargain with Bay without Talia when I don’t even know what to ask for. I thrust my hand in the bag I carry, a few smooth cylinders meet my fingers as well as the figure she’d found earlier. She has the lighter in her pocket. I have nothing without her. I grit my teeth and edge closer to help, trying to keep an eye on the pile in the dim light. Sweat soaks me in the cool air, I want to be out of here as fast as possible. We work swiftly and lever the contraption out in one piece. It’s caked in mud and there are several small stones wedged between the rods and cogs. Talia is chortling to herself.

  “Right. Can we leave now?”

  She nods and cradles her prize. I have a sense of pressure, of something waiting to change and I don’t want to be here when it does. We reach the first stairwell. I stare upwards, how the hell are we going to get that thing up there? My nostrils flare and I begin to shake, I want to get out of here, a primitive fear of being trapped is starting to rise. I steady my breathing, panicking isn’t going to help.

  Talia appears unaffected and refuses to be beaten by something so mundane. She rummages through the bag and takes out various long scraps of fabric and ties it to my back. It’s awkward but I can climb with it on. She takes the plate in her teeth and points out the handholds to me.

  A groaning crash from next door. Talia jumps for the first handhold and scampers up. I’m a second behind as the earth pours in from the room we’ve just left, a bubbling river, an animal intent on smothering us. Something gives on the other side of the stairwell and I’m following Talia up with the earth boiling at my feet, cursing the machine strapped to my back, the slight weight now dragging me down. The earth attached to it calling to the earth rising beneath. I’m alone in this hell, searching for the circle of light above, one wrong move and I’ll drop into the pit below. I scrabble for the handholds, finding them by more luck than design. The feeble light disappears and I feel a scream rising at the smothering darkness.