The Harvest Tide Project (3 page)

‘How did he find us so fast?' she gasped. They had walked late into the night to reach the town before they had slept; their uncle would have had to walk all night, tracking them in darkness to catch them up so quickly.

‘He hasn't found us yet,' Lorkrin whispered. ‘But what are we going to do?'

Taya spotted a grate in the ground not far from them and nodded towards it. They crept up to it, and between the pair of them they were able to lift it up. There were some iron rungs in the wall below it and they climbed down these, closing the grate above them. They found themselves in a sewer. Taya pinched her nose and grimaced.

‘I thought the smell was from the rendacrids farting. If I'd known …'

‘Let's wait here for a bit, until we decide what to do. At least it's safe,' Lorkrin muttered, peering up through the grate. ‘He can't stay up there forever. We'll hang around until it's dark, and then go.'

‘All right then.' His sister searched around for a clean place to sit down. There wasn't any, so they walked down the tunnel a bit until they found a more open area with large pipes running across the floor and two support columns in the middle, Taya sat down on one of the pipes and rocked back and forth, thinking to herself. They were in awful
trouble
, and as usual it was Lorkrin's fault. Feelings of guilt about Uncle Emos's scroll gnawed at her conscience. She didn't say anything, because her brother would only laugh. He always said she only felt guilty when she knew she was going to get punished.

Lorkrin wandered down the length of tunnel to a junction where the path ended. A stream gurgled along a
brick-walled
gully in the middle of the tunnel, filled with things that Lorkrin did not want to think about. It emptied into a river that flowed through the junction. The only light in the sewer was from the grates spaced out in the arched roof, so he was careful where he put his feet. After a while, he got bored and went back to his sister. She was scraping her name on one of the support pillars with a stone.

Lorkrin was struck with a thought. Unrolling his tools, he pulled out the quill he had taken from their uncle's studio.

‘Hey!' He held it up to his sister. ‘I wonder if we can get this to work.'

Taya's eyes went wide:

‘What are you doing with that? Weren't things bad enough without you going and stealing something as well?'

‘I didn't steal it. I just took it by accident.'

‘Oh, well that doesn't count then,' she sneered. ‘I can't wait to see you explain that one. “I took it by
accident
, Uncle Emos.” Maybe he'll only half kill you.'

‘You can't half kill someone. Either you're dead or you're not. Anyway, do you want to see if this thing works, or not?' Lorkrin brandished the quill at her.

Taya's curiosity got the better of her.

‘Okay,' she sniffed, trying to look bored by the idea.

Like all Myunan children, the pair had tried transmorphing on several occasions and had even got hold of a few chants. The fact that it was strictly banned by grown-ups was reason enough to attempt it, but the thought of changing the shape of anything the same way they could change themselves, to extend their powers beyond their own bodies, was
irresistible
. They had never had any success, but then they had never had a genuine transmorphing tool before either. They were hoping that it would not need a special trigger or chant, that it would just work, but they were disappointed. When Lorkrin drew the quill across one of the bricks in the pillar, no line appeared. He sighed and tried again. Still nothing.

‘Try imagining that you're sculpting yourself,' Taya urged. ‘As if you're using the pen like a normal amorphing tool; think of the pillar as an arm or a leg or something.'

Lorkrin pressed the nib lightly against the brickwork again, and concentrated. When he moved the quill this time, he felt a slight give in the brick's surface, as if he had cut it with a knife.

‘I felt something! I think it's working!' He kept going,
writing
his name into the column, the pictograms appearing as if carved with a fine chisel. There was an unmistakable cutting sound, and yet it was as easy as writing with ink on vellum. Taya frowned and walked around the column to look at the other side.

‘Lorkrin, stop! Stop writing!' she gasped.

He was about to scribble something else when the tone of her voice pulled him up short. Looking at her, he saw a frightened expression on her face. He came around to the other side and gazed at the opposite face of the pillar. His name was cut out of it in reverse. The writing had gone all the way through the brickwork, from one side to the other. The column groaned and there came a grating sound, the kind made by two hard surfaces grinding against each other.

‘It's holding up the roof,' Taya breathed. ‘And we've just cut through it.'

In the garden directly above the newly decorated pillar, Shessil Groach stood soaking in the morning light before the high wall that separated himself and his colleagues from the outside world. There were times when he wondered what life would be like outside the project, where normal people did normal things … whatever normal things were. It had been a long time since he had been able to walk down the streets of a town, to visit shops and stalls. He had been too young to visit storyhouses and taverns then, but he could do so now, if he were allowed outside, near normal people … which he wasn't. He idly calculated the time it would take a tasherloc tree, one of the fastest-growing trees in the world, to grow high enough and strong enough for him to use it to climb over that wall. About two weeks, with regular
watering
, fertilisation and some violin music.

Other, more normal people might have considered using a ladder, but then as Groach would have been the first to admit, he was a little out of the ordinary. It was just as well
then, that he was not really looking for a means of escape. He believed that he would one day be released from the project. He was not sure when, but surely not long now, now that he had solved a problem which the staff of the project had worked on for years.

It was only a pity that his friend, Haller Joculeb, would never see the successful completion of the project. Haller's death had been a shock to them all; a horrible accident had taken him only days before Groach had made his inspired discovery. Groach absent-mindedly patted the satchel that hung by his hip. He had not told anyone yet. Haller would have been so proud … and excited. He had always been the most curious about the outside world and what went on beyond the walls. But now they were sure to be released; Groach would get to visit lots of different places and meet some normal people, folks who didn't talk about plants and earth and fertiliser all day.

In the meantime, there was work to do. He was about to turn away from the wall, when the ground shuddered beneath his feet. Groach looked down and was alarmed to discover cracks appearing in the ground at the base of the wall. There was a deep, hollow crack and then a rumble, and a section of the massive wall suddenly sank slightly, tearing more cracks in the stone and mortar structure. There were shouts and gasps from the garden behind him as some of his friends turned to see what was happening. Then the section collapsed altogether, crashing down through the ground in a cloud of mortar and dust and a bellowing cough. Groach just had time to realise he was in danger of following it when the ground beneath him gave way and the earth swallowed him whole.

2 A M
EETING IN THE
S
EWER

Emos wandered through the marketplace, his senses alert for any sign of his niece and nephew. He came upon a
tanner’s
stall, where leather wares were laid out neatly on
display
. Taking two small wooden sculptures from his bag, he caught the tanner’s attention.

‘I’m seeking two children, a boy and a girl. They look like this. They’re brother and sister. Their names are Lorkrin and Taya Archisan. Have you seen them?’

Stopping work on the belt that he was cutting into shape, the tanner cast his eye over the two pieces of wood. Each was carved into a bust, the head and shoulders of a child. He did not know their faces.

‘Sorry, sir. I haven’t. Lost, are they?’

‘I doubt it. Just missing … and with a talent for mischief. Thanks, anyway.’

The sound of a crack made Emos spin around to look at the high, spiked wall that stood at the edge of the square, just across from the stall. A crack was creeping upwards, splitting the plaster. The tanner raised his head over the Myunan’s shoulder to see. There was a rumble, and then
part of the wall settled suddenly. Plaster burst off it, and the broken section of wall collapsed down through a hole in the ground. Shards of mortar and stone flew through the air – the tanner ducked down behind his counter, and Emos raised an arm to shield his face from the debris.

People were rushing about shouting, and many were coming over to have a look at what was going on. There was a large hole in the wall, and a cloud of dust was still floating like a thick fog, coating everything and everyone in a fine white powder. Through the gap, figures could be seen
stepping
over the debris and making their way into the marketplace.

They were men and women, all dressed in knee-length tunics and sandals. They were all of different ages and appearance, but most had soil or grass stains on their knees, and some held a trowel or shears in their hands. The men wore beards and they all had long hair. Wiping dust from their eyes, they peered around as if in some kind of new land. Several greeted the gathering crowd and one even shook hands with a bemused man standing near him. Emos watched as an old woman approached the tanner’s stall and began examining the leatherwork with obvious delight. The simplest pieces of leatherwork fascinated her. The tanner, eager to seize the chance of a sale, offered some more of his wares for her perusal.

‘Hello!’ she chirped to Emos, as she examined a pair of sandals. ‘Isn’t this a splendid place? A veritable plethora of curiosities. Would … pardon me, very forward of me, but … would you happen to know where I might find some absinthe? It’s been years since I’ve had a bit of tipple.’

‘No,’ Emos replied, politely gesturing towards the tanner.
‘Sorry. Perhaps this man might know?’

‘How do you like those sandals?’ the trader enquired.

Emos turned to watch as the other newcomers wandered further into the market, scattering and finding objects of interest wherever they looked. They were all gentle-natured, polite and, the market traders noted, easy to please. The traders also noted that none of them seemed to have any money.

The Myunan was still trying to make sense of the strange group, when from the towers of the town walls, the horns sounded an alarm. The bass roar of engines and wheels was heard, and then catchwagons thundered into the square, manned by armed soldiers. Each wagon had an arm that swung from the top of its body, suspended from which was a man equipped with a net, a whip and a crossbow with restraining rope. They swung out above the crowd as the wagons circled the market and picked off the newcomers, snatching them where possible, shooting them down and dragging them back when they tried to run. The woman Emos had just spoken to went to hide behind the tanner’s stall, but the trader wasn’t about to tangle with soldiers. He pushed her away, causing her to stumble into Emos’s arms.

‘Sorry, missus, but I’ve my business to think about,’ the trader grunted apologetically.

A pair of foot soldiers pushed through the crowd and grabbed hold of the woman, hauling her away out of Emos’ grasp.

‘Make yourself scarce, Myunan, if you know what’s good for you,’ one of them snarled. ‘This is Noranian business.’

Resisting the temptation to get involved, Emos watched in contempt as they pulled the distressed woman away. He
could do nothing for her, and he had his niece and nephew to think about. He watched as the captives were dropped into cages on the backs of the trucks. The drivers of the
vehicles
gunned their engines, forcing their way through the crowd, barging past people who were too slow getting out of their way. Many were hurt by the steel-reinforced wooden chassis or the iron rims of wheels. Screams mingled with the rumble of vehicles and the crack of the whips.

Then they were gone, the wagons disappeared back up the streets from which they came, and foot soldiers closed in around the square, checking for any that the catchwagons might have missed and questioning the traders and
customers
. With their carapace armour, and vicious-looking
weapons
, they were a threatening presence, offering trouble to anyone they thought was looking for it.

While the foot soldiers bullied the people of the market, two more wagons drew up at the hole in the wall carrying enormous stones. These were lifted off the flat-bed carts with a hoist and used to build a makeshift, but solid barrier between the square and whatever lay behind the wall. The tanner, having failed to sell anything to the mysterious people from behind the wall, turned to see if the tattooed man would be interested in a purchase, but the Myunan was gone.

Groach spat dust out of his mouth and groaned. He ached all over and his head was spinning. He raised his head gingerly and squinted through the cloud of dust. There was a hole above and behind him in the ceiling (how was there a roof above him when he had been out in the garden?) and he was surrounded by rubble and debris from what looked like the
garden wall and some other kind of brickwork. He was in a tunnel with curved walls that smelled suspiciously like a sewer. Sitting up, he discovered that he had landed on his backside, if the painful bruises were anything to go by. The contents of his satchel were scattered across the floor and someone was whispering nearby.

Peering through the settling dust, he could make out two figures, children by the size and shape, a boy and a girl.

‘It wasn’t our fault,’ protested the boy.

‘Well, it was … sort of,’ the girl piped up. ‘But it was an accident.’

They both appeared to be frozen to the spot, as if they couldn’t quite believe what had happened.

‘I don’t believe this,’ the boy said to the girl, staring up at the hole in the roof. ‘How much bad luck can we have?’

‘What have you done?’ Groach gasped. ‘How did you do it? Are you telling me you destroyed this place all by
yourselves
? You’d better stay there until someone comes to sort this out. This is wrong, what you’ve done. Just stay right where you are.’

He got to his feet stiffly and winced as something in his back clicked. Behind the children, the wall had collapsed. He was standing between them and the only way out.
Leaning
forward, he got a better look at the two children. They were in their early teens. It was hard to tell who was older. The girl was a little taller, with brown hair in a long, braided ponytail. The boy had blond hair, cropped short. They both wore tunics bound with cloth belts; the girl had leggings and the boy trousers. Their clothes had a swirling pattern on them, the boy’s more angular and coloured in greys, greens and blues; the girl’s circular, in reds, oranges and browns.
They had similar patterns on their skin, and it was hard in places to tell where their clothes stopped and their skin started. The two looked enough alike to be brother and sister. Voices sounded above them. Some of the others from the project were standing around the hole in the ceiling.

‘Shessil? Are you down there? Are you all right?’

‘Fetch Hovem!’ he called back. ‘There are some children down here. They’ve broken something in the sewer!’

‘I’ll say they have …,’ came a voice from above. ‘Broken the whole dratted sewer’s more like. We can smell it from here.’

‘You just hang on here for a bit,’ Groach told the pair. ‘There’ll be someone along any time now.’

‘I think you’d better let us go,’ the girl said quietly.

Behind her in the darkness, the boy had knelt down and unrolled some tools. Groach tried to see what he was doing, but it was difficult in the bad light. While he waited for Hovem, the Groundsmaster, he bent down to pick up the sheets of vellum, the quills, the bottle of ink and the other odds and ends that had fallen from his bag.

‘Look, we’re trying to be reasonable here,’ the girl
continued
. ‘If you’ll just let us go, we’ll go away and you’ll never see us again, we promise.’

Groach tried again to see past her. The boy seemed to be combing his ears back … with a comb. The small figure twisted and dragged at his flesh, working quickly and
skilfully
with the tools from the roll of pouches on the floor. Then he stopped and lifted his head.

He moved out from the shadows, and Groach found
himself
facing a terrifying creature. It had the same colour and markings as the boy, but there the resemblance ended.
Narrowed triangular eyes sat above a short, wide snout. A ridge of hair flowed back past small, pointed ears and down a muscled back covered in spikes and armour-like scales. Its back legs were short and powerful, its fore-legs longer, ending in paws that held vicious, curving claws. It had the biggest, sharpest teeth he had ever seen.

Groach’s breath caught in his throat, frozen in terror by the sight. The fiend let out a growl and launched itself at him. In a blind panic, Groach stumbled back, turned, sprinted down the tunnel and vaulted into the fast-moving river at the end of the path. The current caught him and swept him out of sight into the darkness. Lorkrin chuckled and slunched back into his natural shape.

‘I think you went a bit far,’ Taya said to her brother. ‘We just wanted him to go away.’

‘Well, he went away, didn’t he?’ Lorkrin said, shrugging.

‘After the fright you’ve just given him, I’d say he’ll keep on going. You always have to act the monster, don’t you? You know how Uncle Emos is about us going around scaring people.’

‘That was brilliant, though. Did you see him jump into that stuff? I couldn’t even walk too close to it. This isn’t turning out to be such a bad day after all.’

‘Well, let’s get out of here. Have you got the quill?’ Taya asked.

Lorkrin knelt down by his tool roll, but then lifted his gaze to the pile of rubble under the hole in the ceiling.

‘Aw, bowels!’

‘Don’t swear like that! What’s wrong? Where is it?’

‘I dropped it when the roof caved in.’ He rolled up his tools and walked over to where Groach had been lying. ‘It
would have been about here. I can’t see it.’

‘He picked some things up …’ Taya started to say, then stopped.

They shared a look of horror.

‘He’s got the quill,’ Lorkrin gulped. ‘How far do you think we’ll have to run away now?’

‘How could you drop it, you idiot?’

‘Sorry! I was busy trying not to be
killed
! How was I to know that … that a man was going to fall through the roof and… and land right there and pick it up? How was I to know that?’

‘We have to get it back; we have to find him,’ his sister groaned.

‘Well, we’d better do it fast, ’cos he’s in that river and he’s getting further away all the time.’

Whipping out their tool kits, they quickly fashioned their fingertips into claws and clambered up the wall where the path ended, then set off along it after the man they had just scared away.