As the healer and the slave girl carried Orlyk out to the Healery, her black eyes fixed on Tali and, with a convulsive snap of the wrist, Orlyk hurled another chuck-lash. Tali ducked, it soared over her head and struck Mia on her swollen belly, crack-crack-crack.
Stifling a cry, Mia pressed both hands to her wildly quivering belly.
Tali ran to her. ‘Are you all right?’
Mia nodded and took her hands away to reveal a red and white welt as long as a finger. ‘Only the tip caught me. Lucky.’
‘Lucky,’ said Tali, guilt churning in her. ‘Let me heal — ’
‘Someone’s coming.’ Mia began to squash girr-grubs as though it was her sole delight.
Tali did the same. A replacement guard came in, stared at her for several minutes then went into the next grotto. Through the archway, a toothless slave was scattering compost onto trays of mauve, curly-tipped Sprite Caps. One cap could cure the worst toothache within minutes; three caps would cure life almost as quickly. It was not unknown for desperate slaves to take that way out.
‘We got away with it.’
Mia touched the welt on her belly and winced. She was paler than usual, and in evident pain. Her belly was churning, the muscles clenching and unclenching.
Any other slave would have sworn at Tali, or slapped her. Tali wished Mia would do the same. Anything would be better than this sickening shame. But Mia was too nice, too gentle. She reminded Tali of her mother.
‘I’m really sorry, Mia. I just snapped.’
‘What is it with you? You’ve been acting strangely all day.’
‘You know what happened to Mama?’
‘You’ve told me at least fifty times,’ said Mia. ‘You never stop talking about it.’
Tali hadn’t realised. ‘Well, according to Father’s letter, Mama’s mother, grandmother and great-grandmother were also killed the same way, and now I’ve come of age I’m marked to be next. Every time someone looks at me, every time I see a stranger pass by, I think they’re the one. I can’t take it any more. I’ve got to — ’
‘Shh!’ Mia jerked her head towards the archway.
Tali glanced at the old slave. ‘Suba’s no harm. She’s simple.’
‘I think she’s a kwissler.’ An informer.
Tali moved out of Suba’s sight and pressed her hand against the welt on Mia’s belly, beginning the charm Nurse Bet had taught her when she was little. Most Cythonians turned a blind eye to healing charms, since they weren’t real magery, though a vengeful guard might still chuck-lash you for using one.
Healing charms were all Tali could do. She had practised her mother’s gentle magery every night since her death, but it never worked. Tali’s own gift had only come a handful of times, always when she was furious, though it was neither gentle nor controllable. It exploded out of her, wreaking unintended ruin, then vanished for years. Was that because she was so afraid of it?
To save herself and beat the enemy her mama had spoken of, the one that had fluttered in her nightmares like a wrythen, Tali had to find her buried magery and learn to control it. She had to find it fast, but who could she ask?
Trust no one.
CHAPTER 6
Tali pressed her back against the oozing wall. She always felt vulnerable with an open space behind her. Could Mia know magery? Tali had seen no evidence of any, though those few who had the gift hid it.
‘We’ve got to escape,’ said Tali.
Another spasm shook Mia’s small frame and she bit back a cry. ‘Leave me out of it. I’ll soon have a baby to look after.’
‘All right, I’ve got to escape, and there’s only one way. Mia, I don’t suppose — ’
‘I hope you’re not asking what I think you’re asking.’ There was no warmth in Mia’s voice now.
‘Mia, please.’
Mia checked over her shoulder. ‘I could be flogged for saying the word. And anyone who does say it is watched thereafter.’
Sweat trickled down Tali’s bare chest to soak her threadbare loincloth. ‘If I don’t get away, I’m going to be killed.’
Mia avoided her eyes. Maybe she did know magery.
‘Mia, I’m desperate.’
‘I don’t have the … the gift,’ she muttered. ‘And I don’t know anyone who does.’
Tali felt sure she was lying. ‘If you were my friend, you’d help me.’
‘If you were my friend, you wouldn’t ask,’ said Mia, deeply hurt. ‘Haven’t you done enough to me today?’
‘Sorry.’ Tali put her arms around Mia. ‘I am a terrible friend, I know.’
‘You’re a wonderful friend,’ said Mia, pulling free. ‘You just — you push too hard.’
She staggered, catching at the bench as a spasm twisted her soft face. Everything about her was soft and sweet. Save for the matter of her belly she would have been the perfect slave.
‘It’s not your time yet, is it?’ said Tali, holding her up.
The spasm passed and Mia resumed her work. ‘It’s not due for two months.’
‘How did you get pregnant, anyway?’
She smiled. ‘The usual way.’
But Pale boys were taken away at the age of ten to slave in Cython’s mines, comminuteries, segregators, calciners and foundries, where most were worked to death before the age of thirty. The adult women only saw their partners on monthly mating nights, though, Tali had been told, some men were so weak that they weren’t up to it. Besides, she had never seen Mia with a man. There weren’t enough to go around.
Tali’s stomach rumbled. Food production in the grotto farms, eeleries and poultyards was higher than ever, yet rations had been reduced again last week. Did slaves no longer matter? Why not?
They continued down the outside, steadily filling their buckets with girr-grubs. Mia kept well ahead, avoiding her, and Tali did not raise the topic again. She worked absently, making plan after plan, but all foundered on the same obstacle. No slave had ever escaped Cython, so how could she hope to? Many times she had sought the tunnels Tinyhead had led them along that terrible day, but she had never found them.
As they reached the end of the grotto, Mia gasped and doubled over.
‘What is it?’ Tali cried, holding her up.
Pink fluid was flooding down her friend’s legs and puddling on the stone floor. Her waters had broken.
‘Tali,’ wailed Mia, ‘it’s too early!’
It must be coming because of the chuck-lash. Curse Orlyk! But Tali knew it was her own stupid fault. Mia had warned her, and yet again she had allowed her anger to control her. What a lousy friend she was.
Tali helped Mia to the floor, lifted the loincloth and her hands clenched involuntarily.
‘What’s the matter?’ Mia grabbed Tali’s wrist.
Tali shivered. Let it be stillborn. If it’s born dead, we can hide the body and she might get away with it.
‘Tali?’ whispered Mia. ‘My baby is all right, isn’t it?’
What to say? Tali looked again, but there was no doubt at all.
‘It’s small,’ she said, standing up to check on the guard in the next grotto. For bearing a Cythonian’s baby Mia would be scourged, and Tali too, for witnessing the crime. ‘It’ll come quickly.’
‘Babies can live at seven months, can’t they?’ Mia’s tone was pleading.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Is it good and pink?’
Of course it’s not pink, Tali wanted to scream, but then the slate-grey baby slipped out. Surely it couldn’t live at seven months. What was she supposed to do? Scourging meant a life of agony that no healing charm could repair. There had to be a solution. But what, what, what? She could not think. Her mind had gone numb. ‘It’s a boy, but …’
‘My beautiful boy!’ sighed Mia.