High The Vanes (The Change Book 2) (13 page)

“Do you know hers?”

“No. She is more obedient than me. She wouldn’t tell me, even if I asked her. Four is just as good.”

“Except when you meet someone else born in the same year as you.”

She looked blank.

“Like the girl in the house.”

“You mentioned her before. What girl? We don’t know any other girls out here.”

“She said her name was Arachne0644. We found her about an hour’s walk away from here.”

“Are you wearing her uniform?”

“One of them, yes. Eluned is wearing the other one. Our own clothes were ruined.”

“What happened to her?”

“Eluned killed her.”

“Killed her? How? Why?”

“Eluned was afraid she would report us. She seemed to be signalling to someone at one point. I thought it might have been you two.”

“Why should she signal to us?”

“I don’t know, do I? Why was she left alone out here?”

“She should not have been alone. We travel in pairs. Always.”

“Well, she was alone when we found her. There was no sign of anyone else in the house.”

“The house? What house?”

“The house she was living in. Where we found her.”

“We do not live in houses. We have tents. So that we can move around. Why was this one in a house?”

“Who knows. Perhaps the other one had gone. She seemed to be very frightened. Reading her Bible.”

“She had a Bible? Out here? That is forbidden.”

The words of a ten year old. The body. The voice. Now the attitude towards rules. Whatever those ‘injections’ were, they were certainly very effective. From her response to what I was saying I began to wonder about the dead young woman. Perhaps we had completely misinterpreted her. She had broken all the rules by the sound of it. Living in a house. On her own. With a Bible. Perhaps it was her way of rebelling against the system.

“And you say you didn’t know her?”

Charity shook her head.

“Strange. How long do you stay out here?”

“Two years. We have been out for seven months so far. You are the first people we have seen. We were told there is no one out here. Everyone now lives in the casters.”

“How do you survive?”

“We have rations. Enough for the two years. We do not need to eat much. The injections helped in that.”

I could now understand why they looked so thin. They must be living off starvation rations.

“When did you last eat?”

“The day before yesterday. We have been walking for two days. Someone told us about this place. It was something to do.”

“In seven months you have seen no one besides Eluned and myself?”

“We did not expect to see anyone. I told you.”

“So you are not really ‘guarding’ anything?”

“There’s no need. Everyone lives in the casters. They call us Guards. We spend two years out here before we return to take up other employment. All those who are not child-bearers do so.”

“Even the boys?”

“No. Not the boys. They work as soon as they leave Schola. It is more important that they work. It is not important for the childless.”

“Is that what they call you? The ‘childless’.”

“It is what we are. They do not ‘call us’. The childless contribute to the Change in many ways. I am cold. I would like to go back inside.”

I realised she was shivering and her skin was covered in goose bumps. I had forgotten that she was practically naked.

“Of course, Charity. You go inside. I will follow you. Eluned can light a fire to warm you up.”

“Please do not use my name when we are inside. I should not have told you.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

She smiled for the first time, turned and crawled back into the tunnel.

“It is what the words carved in the tunnel mean, Eluned. Nefyn told me. I can see him reciting them.

‘In forest, field, hill and dale,

A candle in the darkness marches with us,

The one who is ready leading every attack.’

“When I asked him who wrote the words he said it was the ‘old people’. After the Romans left, before his people – and your people – came. The words are written in Welsh. Don’t you see? The old Welsh people must have been here. And Nefyn also said that I was the ‘candle’. That I am ‘the one who is ready’.”

“What of this, my lady?” Eluned said.

“What if he was right? What if the words were carved in the tunnel by my ancestors, knowing that I would see them when the time is right? If, as you say and everyone else I meet says, I am the Expected One, don’t you see? Those words must be about me.”

“How would they know you would come here?”

“How do I know? But it has to be more than a coincidence. Doesn’t it?”

“We cannot trust what Nefyn said. He wanted to kill us.”

“Did he? I don’t think he did. You said yourself that he wanted to make a child with you, to keep his people alive. He said he wanted to use me as a slave. Yet when he spoke to me, which he did when we were outside, beyond your hearing, he said I was the Expected One.”

“He wished to make fools of us. He struck us, tore our clothes, tied us up. Were these the actions of someone who thinks the Expected One is here?”

“He went about things the wrong way, I agree. But I don’t think he wanted to kill us. Which makes his words more believable. Doesn’t it?”

“Not as I see it.”

We were sitting on the low wall just outside the tunnel. I had finally persuaded Eluned to join me there as it was impossible to talk inside in the presence of the two girls. I found it hard to call them women, despite their ages. They had spent the night huddled together in the corner near the fire. Eluned had stayed awake, convinced that they would run off if they weren’t watched. I had slept, fitfully, though I did not think for one moment they would try to escape.

Eluned’s eyes were now ringed with the dark lines of lack of sleep, but she had gone through her usual morning rituals. She had built up the fire, after leaving it to smoulder through the night. She had prepared two bowls of broth with the few roots we had left. The second bowl she had offered to the girls, but they had refused to take it. Rather than let the food go to waste, Eluned and I shared it. We had returned the shirts to the girls, but the rest of their clothes remained in a heap near where Eluned sat.

It had taken all my powers of persuasion to get Eluned outside. She hovered near the entrance to the tunnel the whole time I was talking. I needed to know what was going to happen next. I had thought that Nefyn would eventually tell me. I presumed that was why we were brought to him. If that was the intention it was now too late. He was gone. There was no way of knowing when Gwenllian would return. It could be weeks, months, even years. When – and if – she came, I wasn’t even sure that she would know what was supposed to happen. I had to start deciding for myself.

“I want to start questioning the two captives. I want to find out more about what happens inside the Change.”

Eluned stared at me. She said nothing.

“I know it might take some time, they’re obviously reluctant to talk. I understand that. They have been well trained. They are also probably brainwashed.”

I looked at Eluned. Again she was silent.

“I need to somehow find my way back into the Change. I need to find out what happened to Taid. To find him, if that’s possible. We now have Guard uniforms, which is at least a start. I think I can persuade the one called Charity to talk to me more freely.”

She walked a little distance away. Turning back to face me, she said, “This is madness.”

“Why?”

“Your grandfather is probably dead. Why would these two know anything of him? They have been out her for seven months, so they say. They will know nothing of what happened at Plas Maen Heledd.”

“Maybe. Maybe. At least I can try. At least it’s doing something. Instead of sitting around waiting. I’m sick of that, Eluned. I still have no idea why we are here. What we are supposed to be doing. It’s time to start making things happen. We have these two girls. We may be able to learn something about the ways of the Change from them.”

“They will say nothing, my lady. You will be wasting time and effort.”

“So you say. Nevertheless, I want to try. You go back inside and send one of them out to me. The younger one. I haven’t spoken to her yet. The one called ‘Four’.”

Eluned shook her head. Reluctantly, she came back and went into the tunnel.

As Charity had suggested, it was much more difficult to get this one to talk. She was frightened, I could tell, probably thinking that she had been sent out to be assaulted, tortured, who knows what. Each time I asked her a question, no matter how I phrased it, she replied, “My name is Niobe0344”, in a monotone. I began to wonder whether it would be right to force an answer from her. I grabbed her wrist and turned her arm up behind her back. She screamed. I let her go.

“Would you like me to do that again?” I asked.

She shook her head.

“Good. Answer my question. Tell me your name.”

“My name is ...” she began. I cut her off, grabbing her wrist and twisting her arm again. She screamed.

“I will keep doing it until you give me the right answer. Now. Try again. Your name.”

“My name is ...” Again I twisted her arm. She screamed, but I did not let go. I pushed her arm further up her back. She started to scream but cut herself off. Her head dropped.

“Tacita,” she whispered.

I put my hand out and lifted her chin so that she was looking at me. “That wasn’t so difficult was it? I know you have been trained not to tell anyone. I understand. There was a time when I would never tell anyone outside my family my true name. Sit down.”

She slowly backed away from me until she was perched, rather than seated, on one of the wall fragments.

“Now, Tacita.” She flinched as I said it. “If you co-operate, I won’t have to hurt you again. Do you understand?”

She nodded.

“Tell me how you got here.”

She looked about. “Here?” She was barely audible yet it was still the voice of a ten year old.

“Yes. How did you come here? Where have you come from?”

“We walked. From our camp. Two – no – three days ago.”

“Where is your camp?”

She waved her arm vaguely in the direction from which I had seen them coming.

“Is it far?”

“Two days.”

“Is there anyone else in this camp? Besides you and Charity?”

She looked puzzled.

“Charity? Your colleague. Her name is Charity. She told me yesterday. But you wouldn’t know that, would you? I must introduce you some time. Besides you and Charity, is there anyone else in your camp?”

She shook her head, clearly perplexed by the fact that I knew Charity’s name.

“So, just the two of you. What is your camp like? Do you have a tent each? Or do you share one?”

“One tent.”

“I take it you mean one tent which you share. Yes?”

She nodded. This was indeed a slow, painful process. As if she knew this, she turned sideways on the wall, lifted her legs up and pulled her knees up to her chin with her arms.

“How did you get to your camp?”

“We walked.”

“Where did you walk from?”

“The previous camp.”

“I see. Not from a caster?”

She raised her head and looked at me.

“You did start from a caster, I presume?”

“How do you know this? Three told you?”

“No, she didn’t. I lived in a caster myself once. A long time ago. Three – Charity – told me that you are all sent out here for two years. You are known as the ‘childless’. You are called Guards while you are out here, but you do not really guard anything. The Change leaders believe there is no one left out here. Am I correct so far?”

She nodded.

“You two have been out for about seven months. And you know nothing about the girl – the Guard – we found living in a house not far from here. Her name was Arachne0644. Same age as you.”

“I do not know her.”

“So you and Charity come from Salopian Caster. Yes?”

“Of course not. Salopian Caster doesn’t have Guards. Only workers and child-bearers. We come from -” She stopped herself.

“Deva Caster.” I finished her sentence.

She stared at me. Then nodded.

“That’s the nearest big caster. Do they bring you out here? Or do you have to walk all the way?”

“Why all these questions?”

“I want to know. Answer me.”

I turned as I heard someone crawling along the tunnel. Moments later Charity appeared. She stepped over to stand beside Tacita.

“Did you tell her your name?” Tacita said, under her breath.

Charity nodded. “Have you told her yours?”

“She has,” I said. She flinched at the sound of my voice. “Charity, meet Tacita. Tacita, meet Charity.”

“Tacita? That is ClassLat. ‘The quiet one’. Suits you.”

“My father told me it is the female version of a great ClassLat writer.”

“There is only one, and his name is Ovid. You know that.”

“He said there were many others. Besides Ovid. The one he named me after was called Tacitus.”

“How can this be? He probably said it to amuse you.”

“She’s right,” I said, interrupting their little conversation. They had obviously become so used to only having themselves to talk to that they could easily forget me. “What you are told in Schola is completely wrong. There are many more books and writers than the Bible and Ovid. And many more languages than English, DogLat and ClassLat.”

“How do you know this?” Charity said.

“I have seen them. I have been in what are known as ‘libraries’, which are full of books.”

“All books were burned at the Change. You are lying.”

“Perhaps not,” Tacita said, putting her hand on Charity’s arm. “My father said his father knew the names of other writers. Grandfather even had a favourite one, called Catullus. Once when I was with him he taught me a poem by this writer. It was about a bird. I only remember some of it now.”

“Can you say it?” I asked her.

“
Passer mortuus est meae puellae,
passer, deliciae meae puellae,
quem plus illa oculis suis amabat.
Nam mellitus erat, suamque norat
ipsam tam bene quam puella matrem.
”