‘I would be broken into pieces and Zluty would be alone . . .’ he said.
The thought was so lonely and horrible that it roused him from his deadly drowse. He shook his head hard, and blinked over and over.
Then the Nightbeast paused and Bily was instantly alert. He reached up one hand to take a thick tuft of fur, just as the Nightbeast leapt. After a long floating moment, there was the jolt of landing, and Bily shot his other hand out and got a good grip further up the Monster’s leg.
Before he could haul himself higher, the Nightbeast leapt again immediately, unexpectedly, and this time down instead of up.
Bily was not prepared, for he had loosened his legs in order to haul himself higher. For one moment, his hands held the full weight of his body, then they lost their grip altogether.
He fell.
Zluty was running North over the flat white plain, pulling the wagon after him. It was so light without the weight of the Monster that he had no trouble managing it alone, but he had to be careful because it was properly dark now. The coldwhites had ceased to fall, and there was no mist but also no moon. Luckily the blanket of coldwhites covering the ground gave off a ghostly radiance that let them see well enough to go on, and the wind had scoured the plain so that it was smooth and every dark rock and metal object lying on the whiteness was visible a long way off.
The only risk was the occasional large crack, which was harder to see.
They had decided only one of the diggers would run alongside the wagon, ready to haul on the side towrope if there was a sudden need to stop or to go sharply at an angle to avoid something. The diggers were taking turns since they had to take many more steps than Zluty to cover the same distance, and tired quicker.
At the moment the runner was Semmel. Zluty had to be careful to remember to go slow enough that she could keep up, because whenever he thought about Bily he sped up. He would have preferred both diggers to ride so that he could go faster, but they could not afford to run into anything. The collision with the coldwhite drift had been hard enough to bend the hull a little out of shape so that it did not steer quite true, and he had found a thin crack, as well.
It came to Zluty that if they had not crashed, whatever had taken Bily and the Monster might not have caught them. Then he remembered his feeling of being watched, and the dislodged rock that had fallen, and wondered if the beast had been following them for some time, waiting for its chance.
Zluty glanced up at the mist wreathing the mountains, and willed Bily to be safe. He could only hope the diggers were right, and the beast had been sent to bring the Monster back to the Velvet City. If so, it might easily overlook Bily, who was very small and very good at being quiet. If Bily could only stay with the Monster until they reached the other side of the mountain range, he would be able to escape and come North.
This cheering thought prompted Zluty to suggest using the mysterious device to help them go faster, but the diggers said they had not yet reached the place where it could be used.
When they finally stopped to have a mouthful of water from the urn, and for Flugal to change places with Semmel, Zluty asked Semmel, ‘How does the device work? I know we cannot use it yet, but at least I can think about that instead of all the horrible things that might be happening to Bily.’
The diggers exchanged looks of puzzlement.
‘We do not have that knowing,’ Semmel said.
Zluty stared at her. ‘I thought you knew what the device was for,’ he stammered.
‘We know it is for going fastly, Zchloo-tee,’ said Semmel earnestly. ‘But we do not know how it will work. It was made from plans left by the diggers who returned from the North. The knowing of how to use it will come when we reach the place it can be used, and the memory scents are saying it is nearful.’
‘Do they say anything about this place where we can finally use the device?’ Zluty said, feeling more and more dismayed.
Semmel nodded. ‘It is called the Coldway.’
Zluty was unable to feel much faith in the mysterious device now that he realised the diggers had never used it before and had no idea what it was for, but he would not let himself fall into despair again.
‘We would have been there already, but the days grow ever shorter as we go North. Soon there will be no day,’ Flugal said, bending to take up the towrope.
Zluty looked at the he digger. ‘What do you mean “No day”?’
It was Semmel who answered, taking her place on the prow. ‘In the North, each day grows less until the Longful Night comes, and then will come the season of ice blizzards. It will be best to get around the endmost mountains before then, for when the ice blizzards begin, they will not stop until the Longful Night ends.’
‘How long is the Longful Night?’ Zluty asked.
‘I do not have that knowing, Zchloo-tee, but there is an old telling that says it depends on the coming of the world’s dream,’ the she digger said, settling her cloak around her.
Zluty wondered if Semmel meant the small moon that sometimes trailed after the proper moon. Bily might have told her their name for it and she got it muddled. But he could not think what the small moon had to do with a long night.
Thinking of Bily made him dwell again on the danger his brother might be in, and Zluty was glad to go on. He was so busy concentrating on his feet and keeping watch for cracks that it was some time before he noticed the glimmer of stars in the East. The wind must have torn a gap in the clouds!
The world blazed suddenly white and dazzling about him. Zluty saw his shadow stretch out beside him as if it were fleeing to the mountains. The moon was visible for the first time since they had left the digger camp.
Something to the North caught his eye and he turned to see a great silver sword of light lying across the land.
Zluty was so startled that he stopped running. Flugal gave a cry of alarm and threw himself sideways with the towrope, trying desperately to turn the wagon so that it would not run Zluty over.
Horrified, Zluty ran to the other side of the wagon to find a shaken Flugal sitting on his tail, looking dazed.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Zluty told him, helping him to stand. ‘I . . . I thought I saw something shining ahead . . .’
‘I saw it, too,’ Flugal said, dusting the coldwhites fastidiously from his tail. ‘It was the moon shining on something,’ he added, but the moon had been swallowed by the clouds, and the way ahead was dark again.
‘It is the Coldway,’ Semmel murmured in a dreamy voice, gazing North from her perch on the prow. ‘When we reach it, we can use the device.’
What is the Coldway?’ Zluty said, when they set off again.
‘We do not know what it is,’ Semmel said. ‘Only that it is.’
‘But you said . . .’ Zluty began.
‘Look and see,’ Flugal interrupted, pointing North.
Zluty squinted and finally saw what the diggers had seen with their sharp eyes: a grey road that ran straight East out of the mountains, and across their path, before curving North.
‘That is the Coldway,’ Flugal said.
‘Who would build a road here?’ Zluty muttered, wondering how a road could have reflected the moonlight so brightly.
‘No one built it,’ Semmel murmured in the soft, almost sleepy voice she used whenever the memory scents stirred. They seemed to affect her more than Flugal, though the diggers took turns wearing the pouch containing them around their necks.
It was not until they reached the side of the road that Zluty discovered it was made of ice!
Flugal unhooked the lantern from the front of the wagon and climbed down the bank of coldwhites onto the ice road. ‘There is water under the iciness,’ he called.
Zluty understood then. The Coldway was not a road, but a river that had frozen!
He fetched the net socks Flugal had made, pulled them on and then fastened the towrope around his waist, before climbing down beside Flugal. He stepped carefully onto the ice, for he was a good deal heavier than the dig
ger. As soon as he was standing on it, he could tell that it was very thick, though he could hear the eerie muffled gurgle of water under it, which meant it was not entirely frozen. The fierce cold coming off the ice made him gasp and he was glad of the net socks that gave his feet a little protection.
He walked along the ice road to where it turned North. ‘How far does it go, I wonder?’ he murmured.
It was not really a question, but Semmel had walked along the bank, too, and she answered. ‘The Coldway goes to the edge of the world.’
Zluty did not much like the sound of that, but he only asked, ‘How does the device work?’
‘We must get the wagon onto the Coldway and you will see,’ Flugal said.
‘You want to pull the wagon on the ice?’ Zluty said uneasily.
‘The device can only be used on the Coldway,’ Semmel said from the bank. ‘It must be fastened to the wagon.’
Zluty had no idea what the device could be or what it would do or how it could make them go faster, but he said he would make a ramp of coldwhites so they could slide the wagon down gently onto the Coldway. Flugal said he need not worry about the ice cracking because it was very thick.
‘I am more worried about the hull of the wagon,’ Zluty explained.
By the time he had pushed coldwhites from the bank and stamped them into a ramp, the diggers had got the device free, unwrapped it and spread the pieces on the bank beside the wagon. It took all of them and the towropes to ease the wagon down Zluty’s ramp onto the ice, then the diggers carried two long flat staves that were part of the device down the ramp and lay them one either side of the wagon. They used the levers that lifted the wagon up so the wheels could be taken on and off, and the diggers pushed the staves under the wagon before lowering it onto them. Finally, Flugal bound the staves to the wheel nubs.
‘There,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Now the wagon can slide on them instead of on its hull.’ He climbed back onto the bank where the other bits of the device lay in a pile of poles and thongs. ‘Now for the wings.’
‘Wings?’ Zluty echoed incredulously.
Flugal did not seem to hear. Indeed, as he began arranging the bits and pieces, Zluty saw the he digger had got the same dreamy look as Semmel had when the memory scents were talking to her. He carefully flattened an area of the coldwhites and began to arrange the poles in a complex pattern. This done, he bound the poles where they crossed with thongs. From time to time, Semmel untied and retied a thong, shifting the joined poles slightly.
Seeing they did not need him, Zluty went to the wagon and heaved the round black fireplate out. He got out the firemoss and a few of the remaining firenuts and started a fire. When it was crackling merrily, he fetched the cooking things and made a thick stew.
As he shaved some of the black mushroom he loved into the pot, he thought of Bily, and glanced across to the mountains, now no more than a black starless mass.
If only he had seen a sign that Bily was safe. At least his brother had been wearing his forage bag, which held his small healing kit, and he had been wearing his cloak, for both were missing. The forage bag would likely contain some food and perhaps the shard of skystone, for which he had whittled a handle so that Bily could use it as a knife or a source of light.
Zluty told himself that a lot could be done with those things, and Bily was resourceful and brave.
Flugal called him and Zluty gave the bubbling stew a final stir before setting the pot to one side and going to find the diggers. They were now laying out great swathes of cloth over the pattern of poles. The wind had begun to gust lightly and this was making it difficult for the diggers to keep the cloth flat and fasten it to the poles. Zluty did his best to help, but there was a great deal of the thin silken material, and it was not easy to hold the material flat so that the diggers could bind it to the poles and then furl it.
When at last all of the cloth was fixed in place and had been furled tightly and bound, Flugal bade Zluty help them raise the whole construction and carry it down to the wagon. They got it upright easily enough, but the wind caught a section of cloth that had not been tied well, and it billowed out, dragging all of them a little distance before they managed to wrestle it to the ground.
That was the moment Zluty began to understand how the device might work. Holding it while the diggers retied the cloth, he felt a thrill of excitement.
In the end, they had to roll the whole thing into a long lumpy bundle to get it down to the wagon, where they could open it out sheltered from the wind by the banks of coldwhites. When it was ready, Zluty held it up, while the diggers attached it bit by bit to the awning frame. It took a long time and Zluty’s arms were aching before everything was fastened to the satisfaction of the diggers. They had worked with a silent certainty that convinced him they were being guided by the memory scents.
The stew was cold and lumpy by the time they returned to the bank of the Coldway to eat, but they were all glad of the food. When they had finished, the diggers set aside their bowls and began softly to sing. Zluty quickly realised they were adding the events of the day to the song that would become their telling of the journey. He put away the cooking things, and when the singing was done, he asked Semmel if they would reach the end of the mountains before the Longful Night began.
‘The wind will decide,’ replied the she digger.
They dragged the wagon along on its staves to where the Coldway turned North, and anchored it using piles of snow. Zluty made very sure the piles were high and he packed them down around the staves to ensure the wagon would not move until they wanted it to. Then the diggers bid Zluty goodnight, for he had said he would wait up until the fire burned out. They climbed down into the wagon, and in a short time, all was silent.
Zluty was tired, too, after the long day, but he felt restless. After the fire went out, he got up and stood on the bank for a time, wrapped in his cloak, watching little clouds of darkness scurrying across the starry sky. Though there were only occasional gusts of wind on the ground, up high it was obviously blowing hard.
He turned to look at the jagged, starless darkness that was the mountain range, wondering where Bily was and what was happening to him. Finally, shivering with cold, Zluty went down the ramp to the ice. He studied the wagon, imagining the wind catching the pieces of cloth once they were unfurled, pulling it along. He was certain he was right about how it would work, but he could not imagine how they were to steer the wagon, or stop it. The Coldway was very straight, but surely the wind would not always blow them obligingly North. And if they could not control the movement of the wagon, they might be blown into one of the banks.
As Zluty lay down in his bedding, the diggers snuggled up beside him for warmth, for it was a good deal colder with the wind coming in. Seeing Semmel was awake, Zluty decided to ask a question that had been nagging at him.
‘Did the Makers make the sky crack or find it?’
‘One Maker did find it,’ Semmel said sleepily.
Zluty felt a surge of disgust. ‘Just imagine it,’ he said scornfully. ‘Finding a crack in the sky and deciding to use it for rubbish. I wonder what happened to make them change their minds and want to come through themselves.’
There was no response, then Zluty heard a soft snoring sound and realised Semmel had fallen asleep.
The snapping of cloth woke Zluty. Opening his eyes, he saw the lengths of rope connecting the various bits of the device were thrumming, which meant there was a strong wind blowing. Zluty was on the verge of going back to sleep when it struck him that if he could see the ropes and the poles, there must be a source of light!
He shed his bedding hastily and crawled out from between the diggers, pulling on his cloak as he came out from under the awning. The wind was icy and blowing hard, so his eyes watered, blinding him. But when he had blinked them clear, Zluty saw what he had known he must see. Hanging just above the horizon, the risen moon shone, enormous and perfectly round. It cast a hard, bright, silvery light over the world, making
the coldwhites glitter.
Turning North, Zluty drew in a breath to see the moonlight had turned the Coldway into a shining silver road. He woke the diggers to see and they scrambled up at once, swaddled in their blankets. Zluty pulled his cloak tighter as he watched the diggers take in the moon and Coldway, their faces full of wonder.
‘It is a pity the wind is blowing from the wrong direction to use the device, for the moon is so bright it is as good as day,’ Zluty said.
‘It does not matter which way the wind blows, just so long as it blows,’ Flugal said triumphantly, throwing off his blankets and fetching his cloak. ‘The device has ways to scoop the wind and throw it where it is goodly for our travelling.’
‘You can make the wagon go North along the Coldway, even though the wind is blowing from the East?’ Zluty asked doubtfully.
‘Must think of the wind as a Makers machine full of sly tricks,’ Flugal said as he leapt up onto the frame and began to unfasten tethers. Semmel joined him, running backwards and forwards to unfurl sections of cloth.
‘Maybe we ought to wait till it is daylight,’ Zluty called up to them. ‘Thin ice might not be visible from a distance. Or a crack.’
‘It will not matter if the ice is thinly or crackful. So long as we keep moving, we will fly over them,’ Semmel said in her memory scent voice.
The unfurling of the different parts of the cloth, which the diggers called ‘wings’, was very complex and all of them had to be fixed in the right position before the largest could be unfurled. By the time all was pronounced ready, the wind had got stronger and Flugal had to shout to Zluty to go and kick free the mounds of coldwhites holding the wagon in place.
Semmel called out to him to tie a tether to himself, for the moment it was freed, the wagon would begin to move.
Heart thumping with a mixture of apprehension and excitement, Zluty fastened a towrope about his waist and and then leapt out the door of the wagon. He kicked away the coldwhite anchors, turned at once and scrambled aboard as it began to move.