Salt (13 page)

Tarl paused. He had seemed to swell. Now he shrank again. His head dipped closer to the table, and his voice, Tealeaf speaking with his tones and accent, sank to a whisper:

And an instant later it was gone.

He looked up. His eyes were lifeless.

The darkness faded, he said. Light grew in the tunnel ahead of us, a green light, the colour of decay, and it touched my skin the way the stealth-fly lands in the night, with a touch you don’t feel, and lays its eggs under your skin. I felt the prickle of it, but only when it was done, and felt the eggs hatch, and felt the light wriggling into me, and I knew then that Deep Salt was beyond anything I had ever imagined. I said to myself: I am dead.

He turned to Hari.

Hari, my son, I spoke those words. I am dead.

Tealeaf stopped. Gantok said nothing. Pearl sat motionless on her stool, with her face whiter than mountain snow. Then Tarl laid his head on the table and wept. No one moved until Hari, holding out his hands like a father to a sick child, stepped forward and laid his arm across Tarl’s back and put his head beside Tarl’s on the table and waited until his sobbing stopped.

‘We came for you, Tarl. You’re alive,’ he said.

‘Yes, you came,’ Tarl said in a muffled voice. ‘But I’m not Tarl any more. I’m Tarl who was burned. I’m Tarl who died.’

You’re Tarl who has seen evil, Tealeaf said. And felt it too, on your skin. But you didn’t die like the others from Deep Salt. You’ve seen the horror that wriggles like worms, and wriggles like a worm in the minds of men, and you’ve come back and told us what you’ll do – go into the burrows and lead your people away from whatever it is these ghosts carry in their box. But Tarl, you haven’t told us yet what you saw in Deep Salt when you came to the place where the light has its source. Tell us that. End your story, and let us decide what we can do.

Tarl raised his head and looked at her. He wiped his wet face on his sleeve.

‘Some water,’ he said hoarsely.

Hari stood and poured him a glass from a jug on a side-table. Tarl drank, then ran the last inch into his palm and splashed it on his forehead and cheeks. ‘My skin still has the filth on it,’ he said. ‘I’ll never be free.’

‘You are free, Tarl. Freer than before,’ Tealeaf said.

‘Woman, you don’t know. But I’ll go on, and in my own voice. More water, Hari.’ He drank again.

‘I clung to the cart as the light grew brighter. We came to a cavern lit up as though the sun shone inside, but it was green, and it was a sun shining from everywhere. I could hardly see. My eyes burned. But I made out men, a band of them, ten or fifteen, with their skins burned white, waiting at the place where the rails stopped. Some of them pulled on a rope that doubled back between the lines. They stopped the cart and the ghosts got off, and the one with the bolt gun kept the men back until both of them were standing free. The men, the shrivelled wretches, the dead, Hari, the dead – for they were that and must have known it – crowded round the cart and lifted the sack down, and the barrel, and one screamed: “There’s not enough.” The ghost with the gun boomed at them: “The cart will come back with another load when we’re out of here.” He counted them and found three missing – three gone into the caves that opened at the sides of the cavern, gone to the rats that lived there. “We’ve brought four new workers,” he said. “See that they get their share.” He laughed – a sound that echoed on the ceiling and walls. He unshackled us.’

‘What was the other ghost doing?’ Gantok said.

‘I’m coming to it. At the other end of the cavern was a mound of earth like the silt that washes out from drains after a storm and dries in the sun, and it was there the men must dig, for there were wooden spades and rakes at the foot of it. A wide vein, half as wide as the cavern, went into the hill. It was yellow, this earth, and yet it hid green inside it.’

‘Made of what?’ Gantok said.

‘Salt, old man. Deep salt.’

‘And what is that?’

‘I don’t know. But I know men die of it.’

‘So what was the other ghost doing?’

‘He raised a trapdoor in the floor of the cavern and green light struck out, and I saw all the bones in his body like a tree. He reached into the hole, deep down, and drew out his hand, dripping fire, green fire. He dropped what he held into the box and closed the lid, then closed the trapdoor. The light, the worst of it, went out.’

‘What was in the hole?’

‘I never saw. How long was I there?’

‘Two days, perhaps. No more, or you wouldn’t have fought your way back from the sickness,’ Tealeaf said.

‘Two days. And I saw no grain of the green salt found. That’s how rare it is, even though it makes the yellow earth shine with its light. The workers call it Bad Stuff, that’s all. When they find a grain – no larger than a piece torn off the end of your fingernail – they run to the hole in the floor and drop it in and close the lid and try to forget. That’s all. But if they can show the ghosts who bring the food that there’s a new burn mark on a spade, they get extra food. That’s how it works. That is Deep Salt.’

Tarl cupped his hand. ‘The ghost took that much and closed the box. He and his escort climbed on the cart and told the men, the slaves, the dead, to pull hard on the rope or there would be no more food that day, so they pulled and the cart rolled away and was gone. And I was in Deep Salt and I was dead. I knew it, Hari.’

‘Until you heard my voice,’ Hari said.

‘Yes. It came like a thought. It came like a whisper. It came like the wind, Hari, blowing on my face. It said: Follow me, and I followed, and you know the rest. A dead man came walking in the caves.’

‘You’re not dead. You fought the rats. Without you we wouldn’t have got out.’

‘And now . . .’ Tarl stopped, and Tealeaf put her hand forward and touched her fingers on the back of his. He drew away.

‘I need no more help,’ he said. ‘I only need my son.’

‘What for, Tarl?’

‘To go back to the city. To rouse the burrows. To lead the people, tell them of the danger of the salt, and find it and destroy it. To fight Ottmar.’

‘The salt can’t be destroyed,’ Tealeaf said.

‘You don’t know.’

‘It must be stolen. And carried back into the hill where it was found and put there, in its place, and then the hill must be locked forever.’

No one spoke for a moment. Into the hill again: Hari felt sick.

Then Tarl cried, ‘Who will do that?’

Again no one spoke. No one spoke aloud. But Pearl, not moving on her stool, not moving even her eyes, said to Hari in a voice not even Tealeaf heard: I’ll go, Hari. I’ll steal it and put it back. Will you come with me?

Hari answered: Yes, I’ll come.

ELEVEN

The little boat was heavily laden. Tarl sat in the bow, staring ahead, with Dog leaning against his thigh. He brooded, he watched, and never spoke. Pearl and Hari sat in the stern with the tiller between them, Pearl ready to jump up and trim the sail or balance the sacks of food and skins of water if the wind shifted. She kept an anxious eye on the horizon, looking for storms. A big wind might swamp the small craft.

Tealeaf knew their plan, there was no hiding it from her.

I’m coming too, she had said.

No, Tealeaf, Pearl said. Three’s too many. Hari knows the burrows and I know City. We can go secretly. No one will find us. And we know what you’ve taught us – we know it now. How to make men not see. How to make them forget.

Does Tarl know what you plan to do?

Hari’s told him. Tarl doesn’t think we can find the box. He thinks we – he thinks Hari will die. But he knows we have to try or the burrows will be poisoned. He’ll go there, to Blood Burrow, and tell his people.

And save them from this Keech, Tealeaf said. And make them ready to fight.

Fight Ottmar. That’s what he says. But I don’t know what goes on in his mind. He thinks he’s losing his son.

They landed on a beach at midday and ate and rested, then sailed on. The same the next day, and still Tarl sat in the bow and never spoke. They went far out to sea, passing the three hills and Saltport. Tarl turned his eyes away from them and clenched his hands in Dog’s fur until he yelped.

‘Tarl,’ Hari said, ‘we’re past. It’s behind us.’

They sailed four more days, sleeping in hidden inlets in the night; and saw the city mansions on the clifftops, blinking their windows in the dawn light, on the fifth. They sat far out at sea all day, waiting for dark. The brown cliffs and white houses drew back into the shade. Over beyond Port, the dark stain of the burrows went on and on, climbing into the ruined land. Plumes of smoke went up, bending in the wind.

The burrows are burning, Hari said.

The city’s burning, Pearl replied. She thought of the woman, Tilly, and hoped she and her baby, born by now perhaps, were safe in their house by the city wall.

We should have painted our sail black, Hari said.

In the dark hour before the moon came up they sailed past moored empty ships, making no sound, and between two deserted wharves. Pearl lowered the sail, and together she and Hari unshipped the mast and laid it flat. They pulled the boat under the nearer wharf, into the piles, and tied it there.

‘Tarl,’ Hari said, and at last his father stirred.

‘Hari, when you have the box, bring it to me. I’ll never open it, I promise you. But I’ll use it to bargain with Ottmar. That will be my weapon. Don’t take it back into the hill. Bring it to me.’ But he spoke with only half himself, and Hari knew he did not believe he and Pearl would succeed. They were going to their deaths.

He thought: Dead or not, I’ve lost my father. I’ll never let him have the box. No one will have it. We’ll put this poison back under the hill where it belongs.

A deep grief for his father filled him, and for himself. He bowed his head at Tarl and lied: ‘Yes, Tarl. I’ll do as you say.’

They took supplies of water and food and climbed through the piles, with Dog swimming below. Hidden in the shadows of buildings at the base of the wharf, they paused and listened. No movement. No sound except, far away, in the city, a single hollow boom from a bolt gun.

‘Where will you go, Tarl?’

‘To Blood Burrow.’ He touched Hari on the shoulder. ‘Find me there.’

‘I’ll find you.’ He meant it. When the box was safely in the caves, he would come back for Tarl. ‘Be careful, Tarl. Keech is cunning. He’s quick.’

‘I’ll make a pact with him. We’ll fight together until Ottmar’s dead.’

What then? Hari thought.

Tarl spoke no word to Pearl. ‘Come with me, Dog.’ He slipped away around the side of the building. Dog ran after him without a backward glance.

The only way Tarl knows is to fight, Hari said.

He hates me because I’m Company, Pearl said.

We’re nothing now. You’re not Company and I’m not Blood Burrow.

They put their packs of food and water on their backs and crept through silent streets into Port. There had been looting and scavenging. There had been murder too. They passed bodies that the dog packs and the rats had not found yet. There must be plenty of food for them elsewhere, plenty of corpses. Hari led cautiously. He did not know Port except for the water world under the wharves. It had been too dangerous to risk thieving in the streets – too many Whips on patrol. Now they were gone, but the silence and the stillness, the black doorways and down-slanting steps and hollow windows, seemed even more threatening.

Where are we going? Pearl said.

A street where I can get my bearings. Once there I’ll know the way to go.

They came to the place where Port joined Bawdhouse Burrow, where women had sold themselves to sailors at the boundary wall, and passed into the no-man’s land between. Hari found an alleyway he knew and in a moment stood at the door of Lo’s cell.

Lo lived here. He taught me how to speak with rats and dogs.

And horses, Pearl said, remembering Hubert tossed from his mount.

I taught myself horses. Lo taught me Company and the wars.

He pulled the curtain back. A ray of light from the newly risen moon struck through the window of the cell. The old man’s skeleton gleamed dully on the floor – a crushed skull, criss-crossed bones, that was all. The dogs had been thorough.

They were starving, Hari thought. Lo wouldn’t have minded. And better the dogs than the rats.

He let the curtain fall. Lo seemed far away. Lo was gone.

Stay close to me, Pearl. And feel with your mind. Make sure no one follows. I’ll feel out the way in front.

She let him lead. He was the one who knew. Her turn would come if they had to go into the city.

They passed through Keg Burrow. There was no life in the streets and none in the ruins, but signs of fighting were everywhere.

Keech and Keg fought here. The women from Bawdhouse too. See that body. She’s still holding her knife, Hari said.

But she’s only a child.

You grow up quickly in the burrows. Keech won this fight. Keg must be dead. And the women who led the Bawdhouse. The ones who survived will be in Keech’s army now.

Where will he be?

In Keech Burrow. But he’ll have his scouts out. We’ll have to be careful.

They heard shrieks from far away and close at hand, heard moaning in doorways and, once, down a long street, saw a red fire with black figures dancing in front of it.

Where’s Blood Burrow?

On the far side of Keech. Tarl will try to unite them. But he’ll have to do it quickly.

They went over rubble stacks and crawled through archways, and slithered in drains under open places that had been wide streets.

Now we’re in Blood Burrow, Hari said.

I hear dogs.

They’re in People’s Square.

He slid through a broken wall into a building, climbed a fractured beam to higher rooms and ran towards the distant sound. Soon he reached the hall with the mosaic floor where he had crawled to safety on the day Tarl had been taken. Pearl came panting behind.

Aren’t we going away from the city? she said.

I want to see what’s happening to Tarl.

He ran through the hall and climbed slanting floors and crushed furniture, passed the hole in the floor of East Gate, and went round the square until he came to the window where, on that day that seemed so long ago, he had lain and watched Whips chain Tarl to a cart and march him away.

He lay down and peered through the hole, then broke away rotten wood for Pearl as she lay beside him.

There was no sound of dogs now but the stink of a dog pack filled the air. Hari did not see it at first – saw instead the swamp, with Cowl the Liberator raising his green head from the water and holding his blunt sword high. Then he saw the dogs below him, and saw Tarl.

It was the dog pack Hari had stolen the black and yellow dog from – the dog called Dog. The pack was stronger now, doubled in number, but the old grey-muzzled hound still led. And Hari saw at once that Dog had challenged it. The two stood in an open space, the leader in front of his pack and Dog opposite him, with Tarl a dozen steps behind. Tarl would not interfere, not openly. This was a leaders’ fight.

They circled each other, growling, and Hari thought: Dog will lose. Then they’ll kill Tarl.

The leader was a tall hound, tough in his body, strong in his head, long jawed and scarred from many fights. Yet he showed some uncertainty as the smaller dog circled him with its lip curled back. Dog was not the sick animal Hari had ordered to follow him. His limp was gone. Rest in the village, good food, plenty of food, had made him strong. He had grown thick chested, his wide flat head seemed bonier, and his mouth had sharp back-slanting teeth and thicker ones deep in the angle of his jaw. He trembled with pent-up strength and energy.

The moment of attack was too fast to see. It was Dog who moved, going not for the leader’s throat, as Hari had expected, but for one of his front legs, snapping it with a single bite . . .

Hari said: Tarl’s helping him. I hear Tarl’s voice.

Pearl drew back from the window. She closed her eyes and put her fingers in her ears. Hari did not blame her. He wanted to do the same.

Now his throat, Tarl’s voice said, and Dog obeyed, and almost as quickly as it had started the fight was over.

Dog tightened his grip, jerked, tore, then stepped back and howled his triumph. Tarl stood without moving. The dog pack rushed forward and ripped at the leader’s body until there were only scraps of hair and broken bones left.

It’s over, Pearl.

Can we go?

There are people coming.

They crept from holes and doorways round People’s Square.

Tarl waited. Again Hari heard his voice speaking to Dog: Bring your dogs behind you. Tell them there’ll be food. Make them know I’m your friend.

Dog gave three short barks, and the animals slunk past him and clustered behind. He strutted back and forth in front of them. Hari could not hear what he said.

The people crept closer. They carried knives and spears and spikes of broken wood and clubs made of iron and stone.

Tarl broke through the pack and stood beside Dog. He faced the thickening crowd and stopped their progress by raising his hand.

‘I am Tarl,’ he said. ‘I have come back from Deep Salt.’

A hiss ran through the crowd, a deepening whisper, neither of belief nor disbelief, until a woman’s voice at the back cried: ‘No one comes back from Deep Salt.’

‘I am Tarl. Tarl comes back. Look at me. Here is my right arm. Here is my knife.’ He pushed hair back from his forehead. ‘And here is the mark Company burned on me when I was taken.’

‘No one comes back. You have stolen his shape.’

‘You have devoured him.’

‘You have eaten his soul.’

‘You are not Tarl.’

They’ll kill him, Pearl whispered.

No. My father is changed.

Tarl singled out a man, a thickset fellow with a bulging face, and said, ‘Trabert, I hear your voice. Have you made yourself leader of Blood Burrow? Would you like to fight me the way the dogs fought?’

‘No one leads. And no one fights with a ghost.’

Tarl smiled. He raised his knife and ran the tip along the angle of his jaw. Blood dripped on his chest.

‘Do ghosts bleed?’

Again the crowd hissed, while the dogs whined at the smell of blood.

A woman cried, ‘If you’re Tarl and not dead, does your son Hari live too?’

‘He drowned,’ cried another. ‘We saw him drown in the swamp. Over by the wall.’

‘No,’ Tarl cried. ‘He swam. He found a hole in the wall and came up on the other side. Hari lives. Hari can move in the shadows. Hari can pass without being seen. He has gone to steal the weapon Ottmar found in Deep Salt. A weapon that burns men into dust. He will bring it to me, and we will fight Ottmar and turn him into dust.’

He spoke silently to Dog: Make your pack howl.

Dog raised his muzzle and gave a looping cry, and the whole pack followed – a sound that made Pearl and Hari shrink back from the window. When it had died, Tarl cried, ‘The dogs know. They’ll follow me. Do you follow me too?’

‘Men don’t run with dogs,’ Trabert said, although his eyes darted fearfully.

‘The times have changed. And men – the men of Blood Burrow – must change with them. Company is gone, but not gone. Company is called Ottmar now, and he is worse. He plans to kill us all with his weapon. So we must join with Keech and we must wait. You, Trabert, you, Wonk, you have acted wisely. You have let Ottmar and the clerk army fight, and the workers too. They fight each other. But we mustn’t copy them and fight with Keech. We must join him and wait and be ready. When they have exhausted each other, then we strike. The burrows strike. We will fight in our way – from doorways, from holes in the ground. Strike and be gone. We will be shadows. Shadows with knives, too fast for their bolt guns. They’ll never see us. And we will have Ottmar’s weapon too, when Hari brings it. When it is done, the city will be ours again, and its name will be Belong, the way it was before Company came.’

‘And will Blood Burrow rule or will Keech?’ Trabert said.

‘That is a matter for another day. I’ll see to Keech. But now, on this day, will you follow me?’

They will, Hari said. They’ll follow him.

He drew back from the window.

Come on, Pearl. He stood up and took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Let’s find Ottmar’s box and take it back to the dead hill before someone opens it and kills the city and the world.