The Pilgrims

‘Find a man named Vous. Stay near him, and listen to what he says. The charm you wear does many things. It will preserve what you hear, so that I may listen later.’

‘Are you coming with me?’

‘No!’

‘Well, then what? Once I’m in there, how do I get out again? And where’ll I go? And you better tell me about Eric after this, I swear.’

But she’d vanished. And Case had only just realised that at some point he’d dropped the bottle.

12

They hadn’t gone much further before something approached, making the chittering noise they’d heard through the walls earlier. They began to double back, but the sound came from behind too. Gleaming yellow lights appeared at both ends of the tunnel, bright as candle flames. The lights were eyes and the groundmen who approached were no higher than their waists. They looked human enough — bald little heads, pointy noses and ears — but their stocky bodies were covered in mats of brown or grey fur. Four came from ahead, three from behind, all nattering angrily.

‘Hail, tunnel masters,’ said Sharfy, bending low to kiss the floor. He gestured urgently for Eric to do likewise. Kiown did the same, making his kiss far more passionate and drawn out than was perhaps necessary. The groundmen watched this carefully as though to ensure the large people were suitably humiliated, then stared at Eric silently, the gleaming candles snuffing out for a moment when they blinked. Their small faces were bunched in shock and anger. ‘Toll?’ Sharfy sighed, nodding at Eric. ‘Pay?’

‘Toll!’ one of them snapped back in its high voice. ‘Pay!’

Sharfy dug in his pockets, coming out with Eric’s bus schedule. He handed it over. ‘Otherworld writing,’ he said as extravagantly as a game-show host. ‘Otherworld language. Real, very rare. Hard to get.’

They took it, pawing the pages, grappling with each other for the chance to get close enough for a look. For a long while they muttered and whispered. The language wasn’t the same they’d been speaking to Sharfy, but Eric caught words here and there:

‘Messages! See? Numbers.’

‘That line. See? Like map mark.’

‘My turn! My turn!’

‘Different paper. Shiny, green!’

‘My turn! Give!’

‘Careful! You rip!’

‘We share. Lots time. Shut up.’

‘Enough? Let pass?’

‘They have more. Perhaps. Ask?’

‘Ask!’

Their apparent leader — one with thick dark eyebrows that made him look furious — reverted to the normal tongue. ‘More! Not enough. Pay more.’

‘We pay more later,’ said Sharfy. ‘When we get through the tunnels safe.’

‘Pay more!’

‘No more,’ said Sharfy. ‘Don’t be greedy. We gave you lots. Then you kicked my friends out of the cavern you sold us. You don’t keep bargain, no one bargain with you again. No more toll for you.’

The groundmen conferred amongst themselves. ‘Leave it be,’ said one in its own tongue. ‘Tallest has sword. Ugliest has knives, enchanted. Send them down left tunnel. Traps there to kill them. Steal from bodies.’

‘Don’t send! Traps broke. Devils came through. Set off traps. No good.’

Sharfy and Kiown watched the groundmen, their faces indicating they didn’t understand a word. Eric tried to catch their eye, but they didn’t look at him.

‘Send other way,’ the groundman leader said. ‘Devils still there. Right passage. Wide cavern. Lots devils. Close off this way. No escape.’

‘Yes! Good!’ A burble of chittering noise broke out; it seemed to be laughter.

‘Toll enough,’ one of them said in the common tongue. ‘We go. You pass right tunnel. Left trapped. Middle blocked off. Go right. Only way through.’

The groundmen scurried back up the tunnel. Several little kicks hit all three of their shins as the pack of them passed. Soon they heard the sound of stone sliding on stone. Behind them the way was now blocked off. ‘Little bastards,’ muttered Kiown. ‘Ever tried groundman, Sharfy? Tastes rather like puke but at least you know one of the little fuckers died to make it.’

‘They can’t tell us which way we have to go,’ said Sharfy, nervously fingering the scar on his lip. ‘Can’t shut us off, either. If we pay a toll, we’re free. How it’s always been.’

‘Didn’t you guys understand what they were saying?’ Eric whispered. ‘They said they’re going to send us to devils.’

‘What?’

‘That’s what they said. I could tell you didn’t understand them, but I didn’t want them to know I could. So I kept quiet, let them talk.’

‘You couldn’t understand them,’ said Sharfy. ‘No one does. They have about a hundred languages. Most of it’s code inside other codes. Not even the castle people can speak it. No one can. Why you think they want Otherworld language so much?’

‘I’m telling you, I heard some of what they were saying.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ said Sharfy, crossing his arms.

Kiown looked from one to the other. ‘Mmm! Ironic. Sharfy won’t have a word of it. Sharfy’s bagged himself a genuine exaggerator! Fine, fine work. What else did they say?’

Eric thought back. ‘Something about the left tunnel being trapped. But that devils set the traps off, and they’re no good now.’

Kiown rubbed his chin. ‘If there’re traps, it’s worse than devils. If even one trap is still set? Whoever gets it will be waist-deep in the floor, stuck tight. Below, they’ll poke your butt and legs with spears until you drain dry. Most unfriendly. So, we go the way the groundies wanted us to. They didn’t see our pit devil masks! Sharfy, do I speak sense?’

‘If you do, speak it quieter,’ Sharfy answered sullenly. ‘They might be listening.’

Kiown tossed Eric the mask he’d worn, and got the other out of the knapsack.

‘Now hold on a minute. There is no way he understood what they were saying,’ Sharfy insisted. ‘Do you know how many have tried to learn groundmen tongue?’

‘Someone’s not very bright,’ said Kiown, a hint of anger changing his long, lean face dramatically with just a few twists and lines. ‘When we went through the door, we spoke their tongue. Or at least, it sounded like it to them. I bet we could understand all speech in Otherworld, just like Loup said. Now Eric creeps into Levaal — for reasons he certainly isn’t volunteering, one notices — and gets past the war mages in circumstances most mysterious and peculiar. Guess what? He speaks every tongue! If not speaks it, at least understands it.’ Kiown turned to Eric almost menacingly. ‘You can probably converse with elementals on the Misery Flats. Chat with hounds and horses, with trees and birds and buzzing flies. Bzzzz!’ Kiown paced around him, peering at him as if he were a prized farm animal. ‘I bet he could even understand castle speech, that the high-ups use, hidden by magic and all. Hmm! Do you know what this means, Eric?’

‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

Kiown did, pointing an accusing finger: ‘You are now property of Anfen’s band, which is us. And you are a very valuable trinket! Which is good and bad for you. As a valued trinket, you will have food to eat and people to protect you.’

He knew where this was headed. ‘But you can’t let anyone steal me, either?’