The Girl and the Stars
Yaz could imagine the old man saying all that. Part of her thought that he could have been talking about her and Thurin, seeing a time when they might spiral into each other, but, as she opened her mouth wondering if she dare say so, a cold thought ran through her. A darkness in each of us, afraid to show itself. It was almost as if Eular had been speaking directly to Theus rather than to Thurin, inviting him to reveal himself. And for a moment Yaz wasn’t sure quite how much Eular saw with his hollow sockets.
After a long silence Yaz opened her mouth to reply but a curious spattering sound turned her head. Not far behind her two thin threads of silver joined the distant ceiling to the floor. Where they touched the rock a constant shower of sparkling droplets danced into the air. “What is it?”
“Water!” Thurin grinned for the first time since the black ice. “The collection is coming!”
34
THE DRAIN SHAFT and the coal shaft have reached the ceiling. That’s the water melted by the heat pots, all draining out,” Thurin said.
Yaz made no reply. She just watched the twin streams falling, glittering in the starlight. For the first time she thought they might actually make it back to the surface. All of them. As many as dared try.
Erris and Kao hurried back to join them. Kao looking excited rather than scared for the first time since his rescue.
“How long will it take before the worm reaches us?” Erris asked.
“Soon? Will it be soon?” Kao sounded so eager to reach the surface. It hurt Yaz’s heart to know that he was too broken to live the life he wanted to have back. “How long?”
“In a short while they’ll be pouring coal into the coal shaft. The priests will make a column of coal this much around.” Thurin made a circle that both his hands couldn’t quite reach around.
“And the worm makes all its heat from eating this . . . coal? Enough to melt through miles of ice?” Yaz asked, still amazed by it.
“It’s a rock that burns,” Thurin said. “If we had a pile of it here we could make a fire so hot we’d have to leave the crater.”
“That stream’s quite small, there must be so much more coming than that . . .” Yaz pushed back from the crater wall, staring at the falling water. She left Kao and Erris behind her and joined Thurin by the narrow slot leading from the bottom of the crater down into the darkness of the city. “Lots more?”
“Both shafts will drain soon. When the worm starts following the coal and leaving the full-sized passage behind there’ll be a river of meltwater through the drain shaft. It takes an hour or more to drain, and it melts the drain wider so at the end it’s quite a deluge,” Thurin said.
“You couldn’t . . . you know . . . speed it up?” Yaz turned to face him. She didn’t know how long they had but maybe not long enough. “With your magic. So we could all get out of here quicker?”
“My ice-work’s good.” Thurin pursed his lips. “But not that good.”
* * *
IT WASN’T A noise that lifted Yaz’s head, turning her gaze from the work Erris had set her to, wiring boards together. It was the stopping of a noise. Just as on the one occasion in her life when the wind fell silent it was that pause in the world’s song that hauled her from the tent, now it was the cessation of the water’s patter. “It’s stopped!”
Thurin nodded beside her, his eyes still on his work. “They’ll finish filling the coal shaft soon. Then summon the worm to follow it.”
Yaz made a grim smile. “With any luck we can be out of here before—”
“Someone’s coming!” A shout rang out and Yaz stood sharply.
“Gods in the Sky!” She raised her hands in the “why me?” gesture the Ictha used.
A lithe figure was racing across the city ruins at speed, leaping pits and swerving around the few girders in his way.
“It’s Zeen!” Yaz clambered up onto more exposed rock. “Let him through!” She could see now that Quell and two of the Broken were also running back, though they had yet to reach the halfway point on the long slope.
Zeen came in faster than Yaz had ever seen anyone run, his feet flickering against the stone. He tamed his speed but still crashed into her and hung in her arms for a moment, panting. “Pome’s coming.” He hauled in a breath. “With everyone.” Another breath. “And his hunter.”
Yaz stepped away from her brother to watch the other three approaching, Quell in the lead. She shook her head. Half a day would probably have seen them all gone. A few more hours maybe. But no, it all had to come crashing in right now. Maybe it was better this way. The shame of leaving the others to face Pome alone would have been hard to carry across the ice.
“Take your positions,” Arka shouted. “Stay hidden until my mark.” She lowered herself to her chest behind an outcrop of the more stubborn rock that the Missing had poured their foundations from. In her left hand an iron spear, no different from the one that had seen Petrick fall from the bridge or the one that had slain Jerrig, the huge and gentle harvester.
Kaylal hunkered down beside Arka, clutching a short sword from his own forge. Without legs, though, he was unlikely to last long in the coming fight. His fierce determination lent a new aspect to the beauty the gods had given him. He met Yaz’s eyes for a moment. Memories of Exxar haunted his stare, though whether it was revenge driving him or the desire to join his lover Yaz couldn’t say.
Quell found cover thirty yards ahead of them. The two with him vanished into the city through a jagged crack. The first of Pome’s force were just coming into view at the top of the long slope. Four slim, dark-haired hunskas, fast enough to stand a chance against ambush and perhaps to dodge spears thrown from cover. They advanced in scurries, one moment a blur of motion, the next motionless save for their heads scanning for threats.
Gerants came behind them, bundled in skins and armour plates. Too many of them but not nearly as many as she had feared. She remembered lots more. Surely Arka’s followers hadn’t killed them?
Bexen led from the centre of the front line. The distance was too great for Yaz to see his milky eye but his size marked him. He bore a round shield on his arm and in the other hand a sword as long as Yaz was tall. It might still have Exxar’s blood on it. They came on swiftly, not running but with a rapid stride, as if eager to get on with what would surely be the last battle of this insurrection.
The hunter loomed behind the first rank, dwarfing even Bexen. Yaz wondered that it didn’t lead the way in. Perhaps Pome valued it above his human servants. The thing looked ill-fashioned, a brutal and graceless collection of iron. On one side three arms ended in serrated blades, on the other side two slightly heavier and longer arms, one sporting a six-foot spike and the other ending in a blunt-fingered hand of banded metal that looked capable of crushing rocks.