There were three large volcanoes called The Vomits, though she was not sure which one this was. The Brown Vomit, perhaps. Another, reddish Vomit lay to its left, partly concealed behind it. She could not see the third.
Behind her, across more steaming wasteland and grass-covered plains beyond that, a range of snow-blanketed mountains curved around on her left, growing higher and steeper until it disappeared behind The Vomits. The Crowbung Range. To her right, a little further than the closest Vomit, she made out an enormous blue lake.
After consulting her mental map she concluded that she was looking at the southern end of Lake Fumerous, maybe three miles away. Caulderon would be to the right along the shore, three times that distance, though if she headed east across the Seethings she should reach the main south road within five or six miles, and once there she should be safe.
Tali sighted on various landmarks that she should be able to see from the Seethings, and was making her way down, taking advantage of the cover of a boulder here, a gully there, when someone rose up from behind the bush in front of her.
Tali jumped, then muffled her cry of surprise. ‘Rannilt — I thought you’d be miles away by now.’
‘Where would I go?’ said Rannilt, taking her hand. ‘Who’d look after me?’
A vague unease stirred but Tali thrust it away. ‘Where’s your hat?’
Rannilt looked around vaguely. ‘Left it over there.’
‘Get it, or the sun will cook you like poor Sidon in the heatstone mine.’
Rannilt scurried away to retrieve her hat and pulled it down until it shaded her narrow shoulders.
A few hundred yards further on, the grassland merged into a band of woodland sweeping down a series of corrugated hills. They had to reach the trees before the enemy came over the rim. But even if they got as far as the Seethings they would be visible for miles on the flat surface. And they were bound to leave tracks …
One worry at a time. Tali was hobbling down the slope when Rannilt said, ‘What about old Mimoy?’
There was only one way to say it. ‘She’s dead.’
Rannilt took a shuddering breath and cried, ‘But I saw her move!’
Tali froze. The girl must have imagined it. After losing all that blood, after being thrown down the slope, Mimoy could not be alive. Her body had been dumped further around the curving rim of the basin and wasn’t visible from here but, if they went back to check, any guard coming to the crest of the hill would see them at once.
‘You’re not goin’ to leave her there, are you?’ Rannilt said anxiously.
Tali swallowed, her dry throat rasping. Just when she’d thought she had a chance.
‘Of course not.’ She took the girl’s cold hand. ‘The things you say, child.’
They spotted Mimoy’s body twenty feet down from the rim, dumped like an unwanted bag of bones. Her cane lay a few yards further on. The slope where she lay was bare of any kind of cover.
‘Rannilt, can you do a tricky job for me while I get Mimoy?’
She nodded vigorously.
‘Can you creep to the top and check on the enemy without being seen? You’ll have to be really careful.’
Rannilt’s eyes shone. ‘Anything for you, Tali.’
She bent low and darted up the slope.
‘Quietly!’ hissed Tali.
Rannilt turned to wave, tripped and fell headlong, sending stones clattering down. Tali winced. Had the sound carried? She limped across to Mimoy and lifted her head. There was blood on the grass and on her torn ragweed blouse, and she was cold. Tali felt sure she was dead, until Mimoy’s left eye fluttered.
A clicking sound issued from her wattled throat, a whispered, ‘Where?’
Mimoy’s clouded eye focused on Tali, who saw a desperate longing there. She chewed on a knuckle. Mimoy was almost dead and every second they remained here increased the risk of discovery, but she could not ignore the entreaty in the old woman’s eyes.
Tali smoothed Mimoy’s wrinkled brow. ‘In Hightspall. Mimoy, you’re the first Pale to escape Cython — the very first.’
She picked the old woman up, every strained muscle groaning. How could she still be alive? Only by the agency of her own gift.
‘Hightspall,’ Mimoy sighed. ‘Home, at last.’ She looked up and her lipless mouth cracked into a grin. ‘Ha, ha! Beat you, Evvie. You said I’d never do it.’
Tali wondered who Evvie was. Probably some childhood rival, dead for a hundred years.
Mimoy’s bones settled, she gave a tiny groan and Tali thought she had died, but the old woman wheezed, ‘Lay me in the good earth, won’t you, daughter?’
A fist squeezed the air from Tali’s lungs. It was too much to ask. The time it would take to dig a grave and bury the selfish old woman would eat up their one chance of escape. She should offer Mimoy the comfort of a lie, then abandon her the moment she died. It was the sensible thing to do, the only way Tali could hope to escape, warn her people and complete her own quest. The dead had no needs, only the living.
But when Tali looked down at the ache in the old woman’s eyes she could not say no to her.
‘Yes, Mimoy. You’re going to tell me the names of Mama’s killers, and I’m going to lay you in the good earth of Hightspall. Where would you like to rest?’
‘Tell you when we get there.’
‘Psst!’ said Rannilt from above. ‘Someone’s comin’ out the shaft.’
She ducked down. ‘Get my cane, brat,’ said Mimoy.
Rannilt handed it to Mimoy, who promptly whacked her with it.
Tali snatched the cane. ‘What did you do that for?’
‘You chose her over me. Give it here.’
‘So you can whack her again?’ Tali snapped the cane over her knee and threw the pieces away.
Pain speared through her head. She stumbled and fell to her knees.
‘You’ll come to regret that,’ Mimoy said maliciously. ‘Cane, now!’
CHAPTER 32
Rannilt fetched the pieces of cane. Mimoy snatched them, hugged them to her, and they hurried down the slope. Tali’s back felt like a target all the way to the trees.
After taking shelter behind a comfortingly solid trunk, she looked back. The rim of the valley was clear — no, someone was climbing it. A head appeared, and broad shoulders. The guard scanned the slope, checked along the rim then shouted and raised his Living Blade. Red flowed around the annulus and it howled. He ran back the way he had come.
‘What’s with him?’ said Rannilt, rubbing a trickle of blood from another skinned knee.
‘He’s noticed Mimoy is gone. Keep watch. They’ll soon be after us.’
As they were moving on, the ground quivered. A loud rumble issued from behind them and a small cloud of dust drifted above the rim.
‘What was that?’ whispered Rannilt, pressing against Tali. ‘I’m scared.’
It was an open secret that the enemy had invented many terrible weapons of war. Slaves in the know spoke of burrow-burrs, shriek-arrows, bombasts, fire-flitters and grenadoes. No one knew what they were, though some were rumoured to kill at great distances. Tali assumed the enemy was testing some weapon to attack the escaping slaves from afar, though there was no point telling Rannilt that.
‘I don’t know.’ She held Mimoy with one arm and put the other around the girl’s skinny frame. ‘But I’ll look after you.’
‘She’s useless, and you’re a fool,’ said Mimoy. ‘I’m the only one who can help you.’
Tali ignored her. If the enemy found them, she would have to abandon the old woman and run with Rannilt. The living must take precedence over the dying.
She took a random route through the woodland, taking care to leave no tracks, then hobbled up a shallow stream, her burden growing heavier with every step and her resentment with it. How far did Mimoy expect to be carried? All the way to Caulderon? Selfish old witch!