The Seeker - Isobelle Carmody [5]
It was much wider at the base, and unexpectedly, there were trees growing—though they were stunted and diseased, with few leaves. A thick whitish moss covered the ground and some of the walls in a dense carpet. Where the moss did not grow, the walls were scored and charred, possibly marked by the fire said to have rained from the skies during the first days of the holocaust. A faint stench of burning still filled the air.
Elii handed out the gloves and bags for gathering the whitestick, instructing us needlessly to be quick and careful and never to let the substance touch our skin. Pulling on the gloves, we spread out and set to work, searching for the telltale black nodules that concealed the deposits of whitestick.
The bags were small but took time to fill, because the substance crumbled to dust if not handled carefully. Standing to ease my aching back once I had finished, I noticed that I had wandered out of the sight of everyone else. I could hear nothing, though the others had to have been quite near. I had noticed at once the aptly named Vale was oddly silent, but now it struck me anew how unnatural that silence was, and how complete. Even the wind made no murmur. It was as if a special kind of death had come to the Silent Vale.
“Are you finished?” Rosamunde asked, apologizing when I jumped in fright. “This place is enough to give even a soldierguard a taste of the horrors,” she said.
Returning to where some of the others had gathered at the bottom of the steps, we heard voices nearby.
“What do they use this stuff for, anyway?” one asked.
“Medicines and such, or so they say,” said another voice with a bitter edge. It was the voice of the out-spoken girl marked with Herder red. “But I have heard rumors the priests use it to make special poisons and to torture their prisoners for information,” she added softly.
Rosamunde looked at me in horror, but we said nothing. I was no informer, and I did not think Rosamunde was. But that girl was bent on disaster, and she would take anyone with her stupid enough not to see the danger. Better to forget what we had overheard.
I left Rosamunde with the others, going to examine a deep fissure in the ground. The Great White had savaged the earth, and there were many such holes and chasms leading deep into the ground. I bent and looked in, and a chill air struck at my face from those black depths.
Impulsively, I picked up a rock and dropped it in. My heart beat many times before I heard the faint report of impact.
“What was that?” cried the Herder, who had been packing the bags of whitestick.
Elii strode purposefully over. “Idiot of a girl. This is a serious place, not the garden at Kinraide. Throw yourself in next time and make me happy.” I looked at my feet with a fast-beating heart. Twice now I had called attention to myself, and that was dangerous.
Suddenly there was a vague murmur from the ground beneath our feet.
“What was that?” the Herder cried again, edging closer to the steps.
“I don’t know,” Elii said with a frown. “Probably nothing, but I don’t like it. After all, we are not far from the Blacklands. Come, the sun is going.”
We ascended the steps in a single file. The Herder, who came last, kept looking behind him fearfully as if he expected something to reach out and grab him.
An air of relief came over the group as we threw off the oppressive air of the Vale. Fortunately, we had gathered enough whitestick, and we made good time on our return, reaching Kinraide early in the evening.
To my private astonishment, Jes was among those who met us, and he wore the beaten potmetal armband of a Herders’ assistant.
2
“ELSPETH?”
It was Jes, and I willed him to go away. He knocked again, then stuck his head in the door. “How are you?” he asked with a hint of disapproval.
Anger overcame caution. “For Lud’s sake, Jes, they’re not going to condemn me because of a headache. If you think it looks