The Waterless Sea

  When Shada tugged at Calwyn’ s sleeve and pointed to a wide archway on the right, Calwyn turned the mat and they shot out onto a promenade that twisted along the length of the Palace. The floor was made of thousands of small tiles, each grained differently, so that the surface caught the light of the setting sun and glimmered like mother-of-pearl.

  Now Calwyn could truly use the power of her chantment. ‘Hold on!’ she cried, and she sang up a wind into their makeshift sail that was as strong as she dared. The mat swelled out before them, and Heben gasped as they zoomed onward. The promenade ran along the side of the Palace, but it didn’ t overlook the desert. A high wall enclosed it, covered in flowering vines that flashed by in a blur of green. But the walkway was open to the sky, and Calwyn could see the light fading fast, bleaching the sky to the colour of bone. Soon it would be night. Had Amagis recovered consciousness? Would he find them? Were there other sorcerers, hidden somewhere in the Palace, who would help him, or was he alone?

  ‘Please, be careful!’ cried Heben. They were veering close to the wall, and Calwyn hastily corrected her course. Torn and scraped by the Palace floors, the wall-hanging was beginning to wear thin, and a rip had appeared at one edge.

  They were near the Summer Quarters now and, for the first time, there were people about. In the dimming light, Calwyn saw astounded faces in the archways of the promenade. A knot of startled courtiers had to leap out of their way. The sailing-sled moved too fast for anyone to catch them on foot, but they had been noticed. Even on a day of bizarre events, the sight of a wall-hanging laden with people, flying along the promenade like a boat under sail, was a spectacle to set tongues busy.

  They swerved off the walkway and back inside. Deeper and deeper toward the centre of the Palace they sailed on their ragged raft. Even with the help of chantment, it would not serve them for much longer. The threads were fraying and falling apart, and no amount of magic would hold them together.

  Presently Shada whispered, ‘This is the way to the room where Oron is.’

  Calwyn halted the raft. The passage before them twisted abruptly. Shada leapt up. ‘It’ s a maze. I’ ll show you the way.’

  While Heben kept guard outside, Shada led Calwyn through the twists and turns of the maze, confidently doubling back and darting forward; the path was so narrow that the two girls couldn’ t walk abreast. At last they reached the centre. The wall that confronted them was blank and featureless, about four paces wide, its surface bulged and pitted.

  Shada took a deep breath, and began to sing, unsteadily at first. Gradually her voice grew stronger, and the wall quivered and trembled.

  ‘Keep singing, Shada!’ cried Calwyn. ‘I’ ll help you.’

  The top corner of the wall started to crumble like a piece of cheese. Calwyn summoned up a breeze to blow the crumbs of stone away. Soon dust blew all around them; they kept their eyes screwed shut against the storm of white grit.

  Now Calwyn could hear a third voice: another child, adding his chantment to the struggle, punching out from the inside with all his force. When the wall was breached, Calwyn opened her eyes and saw a small form crouched inside the whirl of white dust and chips of stone. The wall was collapsing fast, the room dissolving before their eyes. Calwyn stepped inside and snatched up the boy. Oron clutched at her neck, just as Shada had done, shielding his eyes from the sudden burst of light after being sealed in the dark for so long.

  Calwyn, Heben, Shada and Oron sailed on, deep into the deserted rooms and cold corridors of the Autumn Quarters, moving more and more slowly. Calwyn urged the frayed raft onward with her spellwind, fearing that every corner they turned might be their last. She nudged Oron, and gestured to the biggest tear in the wall-hanging, but he stared back at her blankly. Calwyn looked to Heben for help.

  ‘Please, can you mend it?’ he asked the boy. Oron shrugged, and reluctantly began to sing, binding the threads tightly together. Calwyn felt his hostility, and she remembered what Halasaa had said, that Shada’ s spirit had been more badly hurt than her feet. It must be the same for Oron.

  At last they reached a small door at the base of the second tower. Calwyn and Heben left the children huddled on the mat while they climbed the dark stairs. These were wider than those inside Shada’ s tower, and Heben was able to climb to the top.

  When they came out at the roof of the tower, the sky was ablaze with stars, thicker than Calwyn had ever seen. This was the first time since they’ d come to the Palace that she had seen the night sky.

  It was only at Heben’ s sharp intake of breath that she noticed the dark figure outlined against the shimmering backdrop of the stars. Marked with a vicious gash across the chin, Amagis’ s ghastly white face loomed out of the dark. Calwyn heard a muffled cry of pain, and saw that the sorcerer held a boy, smaller than the others. He had one hand clamped hard over the child’ s mouth, to stop him crying out or singing. Ched struggled fiercely in the sorcerer’ s grip, though every movement must have caused him agony.

  Amagis’ s lips were moving. Calwyn was jerked violently to one side; the sorcerer’ s chantment had seized her shirt and dragged her toward the low railing, to hurl her over the edge.

  Calwyn had no time to think. Already she teetered at the edge of the tower. Heben flung himself forward without hesitation and grappled her to the ground. Calwyn couldn’ t sing; she screamed in pain as the twisted cloth of her shirt bit into her flesh.

  The next thing she heard was a small angry voice from the doorway. Shada had followed them. She faced Amagis, hands clenched, head lowered, growling defiance like a wasuntu pup. She was singing; she sang a spell that grasped the sorcerer’ s fine embroidered collar and pulled it tight around his narrow throat, choking him, choking his chantment, and Calwyn’ s head banged against the roof as the grip on her shirt was suddenly released.

  Even before she could sit up, she was singing. Amagis’ s hands flew to his throat, tearing uselessly at his collar, and he released the boy. Without the use of his feet, Ched dropped as if he’ d been poleaxed. Calwyn sang out a spellwind to throw Amagis off balance, a wind that caught his black cloak and billowed it out behind him, like a bat against the night sky.

  But the wind she sang was stronger than she knew, and Amagis was already off balance, struggling against the stranglehold at his throat. The wind lifted in the folds of his black cloak. Calwyn saw the gaunt white mask of his face split in a grin of horror, like a skull’ s. He flung his arms wide, suspended against the diamond glitter of stars. Calwyn cried out, her song abruptly cut off. But it was too late. She rushed forward as Amagis toppled back over the railing.

  With his black cloak spread in the air like wings, outlined against the white froth of the Palace, he hung for a long moment like a hovering bird. ‘He’ ll sing!’ gasped Calwyn. ‘He’ ll save himself –’ But the sorcerer had no time to gather the breath that might have saved him. The dark figure plummeted down, down into the jumble of small domes and turrets and palisades that sprouted from the Palace roof. The final impact made no sound. But they all saw the crumpled body, far below, a small black shape on the white stone.

  Calwyn turned away in horror. ‘I didn’ t mean it!’ she cried. ‘I didn’ t mean to kill him!’

  ‘He would have killed you,’ said Heben. ‘The fight was fair.’ Matter-of-factly he turned to the boy. ‘Put your arms around my neck.’ Shada gave Ched’ s shoulder a warm squeeze as he pulled himself painfully onto Heben’ s back.

  ‘The Palace is crumbling,’ he whispered as Heben carried him down the stairs. ‘I can feel it; it’ s beginning. I’ m the last. The song, the song was too hard –’ ‘I’ ll help you, Ched!’ cried Shada. ‘Oron’ s here, too. We’ ll all sing! We won’ t let the Palace fall down, not yet.’

  They settled Ched in the centre of the raft. He was trembling all over, his eyes bright and feverish. Was he weaker than the others because he had borne the whole burden of holding the fabric of the Palace together, as Calwyn and Mica and Halasaa plucked away his helpers, one b
y one? Oron and Shada bent their heads in concentration, and a low growl of ironcraft droned from their lips. Ched joined in, but feebly.

  ‘The mat is falling apart,’ Calwyn said. ‘It won’ t carry us any further. We need to find another tapestry, something. . .’ Her voice trailed away. This part of the Palace was unfurnished and bare. The nearest hangings were in the Summer Quarters, too far away, and too dangerous.

  The image of Amagis, crumpled on the white stone, rose unbidden before her eyes. She shook her head fiercely to banish it, then suddenly she buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed. Ched and Oron, helpless with their broken feet, depending on her; Shada and Heben, waiting for her decision; the Palace, crumbling around them. How could she get them all out safely?

  In despair, she called out with her mind. Halasaa! Where are you?

  Sister, I am here.

  She hadn’ t expected a response; when his voice sounded in her mind, she leapt up.

  ‘Halasaa!’ Our sailing-sled is worn out. I don’ t know what to do.

  Wait. We are near. We have been in the dungeons. We will come.

  Wild-eyed, almost weeping with relief, she turned to Heben and the children. ‘The others are coming! Halasaa will heal your feet! You’ ll be able to run out of the Palace!’

  Shada stopped her chantment to hug Heben, and Ched smiled weakly, uncomprehending. Oron stared sceptically at Calwyn, his lips barely moving as his song of ironcraft droned on.

  Calwyn looked away, to the curving wall they crouched beside. The elaborate carvings had begun to blur slightly, like a melting candle. The delicate edges of the stone were losing their sharpness, as if wind and rain were wearing them into softness. She touched the floor; it was dusty beneath her hand. Even if she had set off for the Summer Quarters, by the time she returned with a new mat, the floors might have been impassable. . .

  Calwyn.

  She looked up. A little band hurried toward them, on foot, their sailing-sled abandoned: Halasaa, Mica, and two children, moving tentatively on their newly healed feet.

  Mica broke into a run when she saw them. ‘Our sailin-sled fell to bits!’ she shouted. ‘And somethin’ s happenin to the Palace!’

  The voices of all the children broke out in a frightened, jostling babble. ‘Course it is!’

  ‘Nothing to hold it together now!’

  ‘It’ s going to come crashing down!’

  ‘Got to keep singing, till we can get out!’

  ‘Got to go now!’

  ‘Halasaa?’ Calwyn turned to her friend, and he gave her a weary smile.

  I will begin.

  He knelt beside Ched, the youngest of the children, and took his foot between his hands, his fingers moving in the swift, deft dance of healing. Calwyn pressed his shoulder. I’ m sorry to ask so much of you, my brother.Without thinking, she used the speech of the mind. But Halasaa was sunk deep in the trance of becoming, and couldn’ t respond.

  With a surge of joy Calwyn realised she had used mind-speech to call Halasaa, and he had answered her. She could speak to her friend in his own way!

  Shada, Oron, and the two boys from the dungeons, Vin and Haid, were huddled together, growling out a throat-song of ironcraft. Mica and the children all looked expectantly to Calwyn. She took a deep breath. If Darrow were here, he could tell them what to do. But he wasn’ t here; she would have to be the leader. She stared back at them numbly.

  Before she could find words, Heben spoke. ‘Mica, Calwyn, take the children who can walk.You must find a way out now, as quickly as you can. Halasaa and I will follow with the others. If you see any people on your way, warn them!’

  ‘Why should we care about them? They never cared about us!’ said Oron.

  ‘No, Heben’ s right,’ said Calwyn. ‘We have to warn everyone we can. I don’ t want any more deaths on my conscience.’

  ‘I’ ll warn em, if I see em, Cal,’ said Mica loyally. ‘Even though they ain’ t worth it.’

  Calwyn gave her a quick, grateful smile, and turned to Heben. ‘Perhaps Keela can help warn the Court, if I can find her.’

  Heben looked at her appraisingly. ‘Very well. If the children sing until moonrise, will that give you enough time?’

  Calwyn nodded. ‘I think so.You all go together, as soon as Halasaa has healed Ched and Oron. The children can use their craft to open the walls for you.’

  ‘I’ m runnin down to the kitchens,’ put in Mica. ‘We’ ll need food.’

  ‘No!’ said Calwyn. ‘It’ s too dangerous. I want you to stay with Heben and Halasaa.’

  ‘I ain’ t your servant now!’ cried Mica, her golden eyes blazing. ‘You can’ t tell me what to do!’

  Calwyn could have shaken her. ‘You’ ll be trapped!’

  ‘I’ ll go with her,’ offered Shada. ‘We’ ll get out all right.’

  ‘What about you?’ Mica stormed on. ‘You’ ll get trapped!’

  No one had noticed Ched, his feet mended, creep closer to listen. Suddenly he piped up, ‘You don’ t know the way, and you can’ t open the walls. You won’ t be able to get out. The others can hold up the Palace without me for a little while. I’ ll come.’ Ched slipped his thin hand into Calwyn’ s. ‘I don’ t care if everyone in this place gets crushed into dust. But you saved me. I won’ t leave you.’

  Calwyn squeezed his hand. ‘Ched, thank you! Are you strong enough to run?What’ s the quickest way to the Summer Quarters?’

  ‘Be careful, Calwyn,’ said Heben. There was a light in his clear blue eyes, a keenness to his face that Calwyn hadn’ t seen before, almost as if he were looking forward to the danger ahead.

  ‘And you,’ answered Calwyn, and touched her fingers to her lips in the Merithuran salute.

  It was long after midnight and, in contrast to the day, people were milling everywhere. Ched led Calwyn to the very heart of the Summer Quarters, the Courtyard of Three Fountains, a large open plaza overlooked by a colonnade. Breathless, Calwyn leaned on the railing with its graceful twists; it gave way under her weight, and she leapt back. The disruptions to the children’ s chantment had taken their toll; the Palace would not collapse until they stopped singing altogether, but the fabric of its structure had weakened.

  Calwyn shouted over the square, ‘The Palace is falling! All of you, be warned! There’ s great danger, save yourselves!’

  Heads swivelled, and faces turned up toward her. Some were curious, some amused, but most showed a pitying contempt.

  ‘Poor child,’ she heard one elderly lady murmur. ‘The shock of the Emperor’ s death has turned her wits. Look at her, she’ s not even properly dressed!’

  ‘It’ s true!’ Calwyn’ s voice rang out clearly above the splash of the fountains. ‘The Palace is about to collapse! Look! The walls are crumbling.’

  A gentleman said warningly, ‘Listen, my girl, unless you can tell me where all my servants have hidden themselves, I advise you to save your fabulations for a smoke-party story-telling.’

  ‘Yours, too, eh?’ chuckled the elderly lady. ‘Still larking about in the Spring Quarters, I expect. It’ s always the same at festival time.’

  There was not one servant to be seen in the plaza. All the courtiers in their festival finery were unattended; some even carried their own stools, a dreadful breach of etiquette.

  ‘Can’ t you see?’ cried Calwyn. ‘The servants know something’ s wrong! They must be sheltering in the cellars, you must join them while you still can! You’ re in terrible danger!’

  But the courtiers had already turned away indifferently.

  Ched plucked at her sleeve. ‘Let’ s go,’ he whispered. ‘It’ s their bad luck. It’ ll be moonrise soon. Let’ s get out!’ Even as he spoke, a chunk of the railing crumbled away; a rain of white dust descended on the crowd of courtiers below. They stared up in annoyance, brushing the dust from their clothes.

  But Calwyn had glimpsed a swirl of pink silk on the far side of the colonnade, and she began to run. ‘Keela! Keela!’

  The Third Princ
ess turned her sleek blonde head; she looked distracted.

  As her gaze focused on Calwyn, a strange expression flickered across her face, and she took an involuntary step back. But in a heartbeat her habitual mask of cool amusement had slid into place. ‘Calwyn, what a delightful surprise! What in the world are you doing here, and in such . . .unusual dress. Or should I say, undress?’

  ‘I’ ve been looking for you!’ gasped Calwyn. Again that unaccountable expression, almost a look of horror, flitted over the Princess’ s face, but Calwyn was too preoccupied to notice. ‘Listen to me, Keela! I don’ t have time to explain properly. The Palace is about to collapse. You must help me to warn everyone!’

  ‘My dear, one doesn’ t say must to a Princess.’ Keela’ s sharp eyes darted about, scanning the crowd. Then her gaze snapped back to Calwyn, as if she’ d taken in her words for the first time. ‘The Palace is collapsing? How absurd!’

  Calwyn stared at her, aghast. ‘I assure you, Princess, the Palace will fall, very soon, tonight! Keela, people will listen to you! Please, warn them!’

  But Keela was staring at the ragged figure of Ched, and her face had hardened. ‘Who is this little boy?’ she asked, in a voice as smooth as cream. ‘Is he a relative of yours, another of the Cledsec Clan? Your little nephew, perhaps? The Imperial Court is no place for children. I’ ll see that he’ s taken care of.’

  ‘No, thank you,’ said Calwyn, with forced politeness. ‘I can take care of him.’

  ‘Are you sure, my dear?’ Keela’ s eyes were chips of blue ice. ‘I thought this child had another guardian.’

  Ched said nothing, but he sidled closer to Calwyn and clutched hard at her arm. Suddenly Calwyn realised that Keela understood exactly what was happening, and who Ched was. Trying to keep her voice steady, she said, ‘His – his guardian is dead.’

  ‘Dead!’ exclaimed Keela, and her eyes widened as she stared at Calwyn. She made the sign that Heben had made, to ward off evil.