Nightpeople Read online

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because you’re … unique.’ He hesitated. ‘Listen, Saria, back at the waterhole. When you reached for me …’

  ‘I’m sorry, I really didn’t know it would …’ she began, but he cut her off.

  ‘I know. You don’t have to explain. Gan and I talked for a long time that afternoon. I’m the one who should be apologising. It’s just that you should know …’ He paused, then grinned. 'I'm talking a bunch of camel dung. You should go into the council. And whatever happens in there, remember, you’re not on your own, right?’

  ‘But …’

  ‘Go.’

  He didn’t give her time to say anything more. With a gentle push, he propelled her towards the council chamber.

  Stepping into the underground chamber was like stepping into a night empty of vaultlights. The walls stretched into darkness and the roof, high above, remained hidden in shadow. The only indication Saria had that she was deep underground was the stillness – a kind of unnatural lack of sensation, as though even the air was long-settled.

  The only source of light was a dull fire in the middle. Saria stopped. The distance between her and the fire seemed huge, the floor dark and indistinguishable. In her imagination, huge pits yawned, bottomless, cloaked and waiting for her unsuspecting step.

  As her eyes adapted, she noticed hunched shapes around the fire, perhaps ten or eleven of them. None seemed aware of her presence, and as the echo of Dariand’s footsteps faded away up the tunnel behind her, she became aware of the murmur of men’s voices, low and unintelligible, distorted by their reflection off the stone walls and roof.

  ‘Eh, girl.’

  The voice came out of the air right beside her, almost in her ear, and Saria jumped, startled. There was nobody there.

  ‘Don’t be worried.’

  Now the voice was behind her and she whirled, searching for the speaker, but a strange kind of echo made it move, shifting around her. At the same time, she recognised the voice.

  ‘Dreamer Gaardi?’

  ‘Yeah. You come over here, now.’

  One of the figures by the fire stood and took a couple of steps towards her, and, even though his face was hidden by the darkness, Saria recognised the shuffling walk of the old Dreamer.

  ‘It’s okay, right? There’s nothing to trip you up.’

  Saria started out into the darkness and, as she moved away from the tunnel opening, Dreamer Gaardi’s voice faded into the detached background mutter of the other conversations.

  Halfway to the fire the old man met her. At first he didn’t say anything, but reached out and touched the tips of his fingers against her neck. His touch was unnaturally warm and she instinctively pulled away.

  ‘Shhh, girl. I won’t hurt you.’

  It took every bit of control she had not to turn and flee back up the tunnel behind Dariand. She willed herself to stand still while Dreamer Gaardi’s warm fingertips settled against her. For the tiniest of moments she had a sensation of warmth through her whole body. Then, with a stab of brightness, the old man’s mind touched hers; it was the same sensation as when she had reached into Dariand, the same intense flash, but this time it was controlled and gentle. With it came a flooding of strength and shared power.

  After a brief moment Dreamer Gaardi withdrew his touch and smiled. He whispered to her, softly enough that the other men by the fire wouldn’t hear, even with the strange acoustics of the chamber.

  ‘You come now, and remember what I told you back in the desert, eh? Don’t tell anyone about you being able to do reaching, right?’

  They came closer to the fire and Saria counted thirteen people, all men, seated on low boulders arranged in a ring around the fire-pit. There were unoccupied boulders in the circle, too, perhaps twenty in all. Burning dung scented the air and as they stepped into the firelight all conversation stopped.

  The shadowy figures studied her in solemn silence. Her heart pounding, Saria was barely aware of Dreamer Gaardi returning to his stone seat. Finally, one of the other men stood and stepped forward.

  ‘Welcome, Sister.’

  She wasn’t certain what to say, so she stayed silent. Then the man addressed the entire gathering, his words taking on a strange formality.

  ‘We who reach the Earthmother, we who hear her cries and who feel her pain, we who walk her skin and drink her blood for our water, we meet here today in the warmth ofher belly. We come here to remember the old sacred stories about when this land was clean and fresh. We come to council to remember the past, and to remember the future. We are the Dreamers. This is our task.’

  ‘This is our task!’ each man around the circle repeated, the response echoing off the walls. But there was something resigned in the way they spoke, as if this was a vow they’d made so many times that it had lost its meaning.

  While the old man was speaking, Saria studied him as best she could in the dull light. He was old, like all the Darklanders. Years of memories were written in the thousands of creases on his face, which all seemed to dance and shift in the firelight, in the bright flash of his eyes and in the sparse strands of white hair that crowned his head. This, she guessed, was Dreamer Wanji. As if reading her thoughts, the old man turned again to face her.

  ‘I’m Dreamer Wanji. We’ve been waitin’ a long time for you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Saria replied, misunderstanding. ‘Dariand brought me as soon as he could …’

  ‘Nah, girl. That’s not what I mean. Much longer than that. We been waitin’ for you since before the night when the cluster of The Child appeared in the nightvault. And this land’s been waitin’ even longer than that.’

  As he stepped closer she realised with surprise that he was tiny, even smaller than herself. His body was stooped and his thin legs and arms seemed little more than twigs. For all that the old man gave off a sense of power. Of weight behind his words.

  One of the other men coughed. Dreamer Wanji smiled and abruptly the formality fell out of his voice.

  ‘This here’s the council – all that’s left of us, anyway. You already know Dreamer Gaardi, an’ this here’s Keeti, Maali, that fella’s Srani …’ He continued around the circle, pointing at each man in turn. Some nodded, a couple smiled at her, but most simply stared with expressionless faces.

  ‘I hear you’ve met this bloke, too.’

  The man seated on the second last boulder looked up and met her eyes and Saria gasped. Dreamer Baanti’s glittering little smile didn’t touch his pale gaze.

  ‘You’re a slippery one, eh, girl?’

  His words, no more than a whisper, slid around the chamber. He even managed to sound slightly amused.

  ‘That’ll do, Dreamer Baanti.’ Dreamer Wanji’s response was calm, just as quiet, but there was power behind it. ‘You’ll get your chance to say your bit.’

  Saria could taste tension floating between the thirteen men, an atmosphere of shifting alliances and mistrust.

  ‘Now, Saria’ – the use of her name startled her – ‘how about you take a seat, eh?’

  ‘Where?’

  Dreamer Wanji gestured around. ‘Just pick a stone. Most of those who sat on them are long gone.’

  There was an empty boulder beside Dreamer Gaardi and she started towards it. But before she’d had time to take more than a step, Dreamer Baanti made a hissing noise, sucking air in through his teeth, and leapt to his feet.

  ‘She got no right to be sittin’ in the circle. No right even to be here in council.’

  Several other men nodded. Dreamer Wanji faced Dreamer Baanti across the fire.

  ‘She’s the last child of the Darklands. I reckon that gives her the right.’

  ‘Rubbish. She’s not part of the council and her words have no weight down here. I say she stands.’

  The other men leaned forward and watched the two in the centre with grave attention. Saria froze. Dreamer Baanti, old though he was, was clearly younger than Dreamer Wanji, and this was evident in his stance, in the tilt of his head,
and, compared with Dreamer Wanji, even his skinny body seemed muscled. When Dreamer Wanji spoke, though, his voice betrayed nothing.

  ‘You wanna leave her standing, eh?’

  ‘She’s not a Dreamer. She can’t do the reaching, so she doesn’t sit with us. That’s all I’m saying.’

  There were more mutterings of agreement. Then, to her surprise, Dreamer Wanji stepped back.

  ‘Okay. For the moment she can sit on the floor, right?’

  ‘She stands.’

  ‘Then you say your piece now, so she can go and rest. But she’s not standin’ here while you mob talk her in circles until she can’t take any more. Or would you rather throw her into a hole and leave her to wallow in her own filth, eh?’

  Uncomfortable glances passed between the men. Clearly news of Dreamer Baanti’s treatment of her had reached the council before she had, and even among Dreamer Baanti’s supporters not everyone approved of it.

  Dreamer Baanti raised his hand as if to strike Dreamer Wanji, but at the last moment controlled himself and settled for pointing a gnarled finger into the older man’s face.

  ‘What I’ve gotta say is council business and won’t be said in front of that girl.’

  ‘She’s the reason that this council’s here. In fact, she’s the reason the first council was called. All our stories have been leading up to this day and to this girl, so you’ll say your piece in front of her, or you can take yourself back to Olympic.’

  ‘Psht!’ Dreamer Baanti spat into the fire. ‘You’re still talkin’ crap. You’ve been talkin’ crap for as long as any of us can remember, and now’s the time to face some facts, eh? Real facts. Not the lies and stories you’ve been feeding everyone.’

  ‘I ent ever lied about the old stories.’

  ‘Then how come none of us here knew she was alive, eh? How come you left it all these years to bring her down here? How come you let the whole of the Darklands believe she was stillborn? If those aren’t lies, then what are they, eh?’

  Dreamer Wanji deliberately turned his back on the other man and spoke into the darkness.

  ‘You ‘ent even gonna give me a chance to sort this out according to the old stories, are you?’

  ‘We’ve been waitin’ all our lives for you to do that. We’ve waited so long that most of us are near dying. The time for waitin’ is over.’

  ‘Look at her,’ Dreamer Wanji replied, talking to the entire council now. ‘You look at her there and tell me she’s not everything I promised, eh? Tell me that for the last thirteen years, when each of you has been talking with the Earthmother, you weren’t also feelin’ this girl’s footsteps, even when she was right out there in the valley. Even when you didn’t know for a fact that she was alive.’

  He whirled round and stepped towards one of the other old men. ‘Srani, you told us that when Dreamer Baanti had her in that pit you could feel her burnin’ through the earth like you never felt before, right?’

  The man on the rock dropped his gaze.

  ‘But now you sit there and agree with this bastard. You all do. He’s got less landsense than the rest of you, he can’t reach to save himself, but still you let him eat up your own real dreams with his imaginary ones.’

  Now Dreamer Baanti did lash out, spinning Dreamer Wanji and striking him across the face. The slap echoed sharply and several men rose, closing on them until Dreamer Wanji held up his hand.

  ‘See? There you are. Never since the first council has one Dreamer needed to thump another. Up until now, every Dreamer’s been able to feel the Shifting and that’s been enough hurt for all of us. Not him though.’ He pointed at Dreamer Baanti who stood, defiant and furious. ‘Not him. His ability’s clouded. Always has been, and you lot have always known it. Now you can see it for yourself.’

  Wanji straightened as much as he could and spat a mouthful of blood at the other man’s feet.

  ‘Even down here, right now in the belly of the Earthmother, you got no sense of this girl, have you?’

  All eyes swivelled to Dreamer Baanti. When he replied, his voice was a hiss.

  ‘She’s just a girl. Only thing she might be good for is makin’ babies, but we don’t know if she’s even fit for that, do we?’

  ‘She’s a lot more than that.’

  ‘Ha!’ Dreamer Baanti’s laugh was a sharp bark. Before anyone could react, he grabbed Saria’s arm, pulling her to him and pressing the fingers of his other hand to the left side of her neck. It wasn’t Dreamer Gaardi’s soft touch, though. He stabbed rigid fingers hard into her soft flesh and there was no control behind the searing, blinding light which exploded in Saria’s head as the Dreamer rammed his mind into hers. It was a hard, blunt, driving force which thrust itself straight into her, a living wedge of pain driving deeper and deeper though the layers of her mind. It was worse than both times he’d done it to her before.

  She was barely aware of her own screaming and the shouts of the other Dreamers. Her thoughts were slipping away, her mind and control being consumed and burned up in the horrific pain of the other man’s mind.

  She knew she had to fight it before there was nothing left of herself to hold on to.

  SARIA!

  The call poured into her from somewhere far beyond the cold chamber. With it came the same distant, shifting burning, which she had so often found in the deepest parts of animals. It filled every part of her mind, earthwarmth streaming into her through her feet, coming up from the bare rock floor and slamming into the relentless attacking mind of Dreamer Baanti. The two forces met in a stunning explosion of pain. Unable to stop herself, Saria let the earthwarmth push the Dreamer’s mind from her own in one savage, uncontrolled rush. All at once, Dreamer Baanti’s mind seemed to go cold, the sensation sending a terrible shudder through both of them.

  Dreamer Baanti screamed then, an unearthly wail as he fell and curled up, whimpering like a child, on the stone floor beside the fire.

  Saria fell too, but hers was not a collapse into pain. With the sudden release from Dreamer Baanti’s mind-grip, her own consciousness flooded back into her and she crumpled to the floor.

  The first thing she was aware of was the coolness. It was everywhere, under her, on top of her, pressing in through her eyes and head.

  ‘Saria?

  A man’s voice, distant and gentle.

  ‘What?’

  She was awake now, but when she tried to open her eyes there was still only darkness and gentle pressure.

  ‘Hush, girl. Be still.’

  Someone lifted the damp cloth from her face and Dreamer Gaardi swam into view.

  ‘Can you hear us?’

  It was quiet. So very quiet. Firelight danced across the old man’s features.

  ‘What …’

  ‘Shhh. Just lie there for a bit, eh?’

  ‘She back?’ Someone else spoke. Another familiar voice, but Saria couldn’t remember whose.

  ‘Yeah.’

  Soft footsteps padded across the stone floor, and Dreamer Wanji’s wrinkled face was leaning over her, concerned.

  ‘How you feelin’?’

  ‘I …’ She tried to sit up, but a wave of stomach-churning nausea swept through her before she was even halfway there.

  ‘Careful! Just lie there. You’ve had a big night.’

  She lay on the cold rock, feeling its coolness beneath her shoulders and back. Sudden tiredness overcame her, and she closed her eyes again.

  The room was light. Round. High. Smooth. Unnatural. Saria lay in the middle of it, on some kind of raised platform. From somewhere high above, up near the roof, she could hear the vague mutter of voices.

  That wasn’t the only noise, either. The room wasn’t silent. A low hum, deep and resonant, echoed through the floor and out of the walls and up through her platform. The sound had an indefinable quality. Somehow, Saria knew that it was not made by any single object, but was the sound of this place. It was almost as if the room itself was alive, and the hum was its pulse.

  Saria tried to sit upri
ght, to look around, but the muscles of her arms and legs refused to respond. She tried to move her head, to shout out, but nothing happened. Her body seemed to be gone, taken from her control so that all she could do was lie and gaze at the round circle of the roof, so far above her.

  Then darkness, and the hum faded away to nothing …

  When she woke again, she sat up right away. She was still in the council chamber, but she’d been moved to beside the fire-pit. The fire itself was almost extinguished. The stillness and silence were absolute and at first she thought she was alone, but as she looked about she became aware of another’s presence. A lone figure sat hunched in the darkness on the far side of the fire.

  ‘Hello?’

  The old man jumped. ‘Girl! You back with us, eh?’

  ‘What happened?’

  Dreamer Wanji’s gait was slow as he made his way across and offered her a skinny hand. ‘You reckon you can get to your feet?’

  ‘I think so.’ His hand was dry and thin around hers, and she was too scared to put any real weight onto it. Standing, dizziness overcame her, and she steadied herself against the old man.

  ‘Come an’ sit.’ Supporting her as best he could, Dreamer Wanji led her across to the nearest stone seat and eased her onto it.

  ‘Here.’ A water-skin was held to her lips and she drank gratefully.

  ‘What happened?’ She looked around. ‘Where are the council?’

  ‘All gone back up top. Didn’t think we should move you for a while.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘What do you remember?’ Dreamer Wanji lowered himself slowly onto the stone beside her.

  ‘I can remember … pain … and light … and, I think, heat. Something warm, and big.’

  ‘You got the reaching alright, girl.’ The old man was nodding. ‘You got it somethin’ powerful, too. Silly bloody Baanti never had a chance.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  The old man sighed. ‘This changes everything. It’s my fault, too. I shoulda seen you first, not just pulled you straight down here.’ He stopped and gazed at her, and the steadiness of the stare made her uncomfortable. The old man regarded her with something akin to hunger.