The Harvest Tide Project (26 page)

‘Aw, bowels!’ he barked.

‘Lorkrin Archisan! Your mother would be beside herself if she heard you using language like that.’ Emos wagged his finger at the boy. ‘I hope you don’t talk like that at home.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Lorkrin screwed up his face in a sulk. ‘And I don’t melt people’s legs either.’

‘I’m sorry, Lorkrin,’ his uncle said in a softer voice. ‘If there was any other way …’

‘We’d better get a move on,’ Draegar urged his friend. ‘Every moment wasted is a moment too long for Shessil.’

‘What if the soldiers come?’ Taya protested.

‘They’re otherwise occupied,’ Draegar reassured her. ‘They’ve all gone to man their positions. You won’t have any trouble with them, I think. Just stay quiet and stay put. We’ll be back before long.’

Hilspeth offered an apologetic shrug and waved to them, and with that, the three adults climbed out of the tank and left Taya and Lorkrin alone. They listened to the retreating sounds of the scentonomist, the Parsinor and their uncle, waiting until they were out of earshot. Lorkrin turned to his sister.

‘This is not fair!’ he muttered. ‘This … it’s just not fair!

‘He’s well and truly done it this time,’ Taya moaned. ‘There’s no way I’m going out looking like this.’

‘Do you know any disenchants?’ he asked desperately.

‘I don’t seem to remember one for stopping your legs from
becoming a carpet,’ she snapped. ‘We played at trying to make apples square, or tying knots in horseshoes.’

‘Well, what do you remember?’

‘I don’t know. I’ve never heard about this before.’

‘Me neither. We have to try something. I’m not staying here like a half-melted snowman. Maybe it’s easier to undo a transmorph than it is to start one … you know, like it’s easier to keep a cart rolling than it is to get it going in the first place.’

‘All right, we’ll take turns,’ Taya suggested. ‘You go first.’

‘Why should I go first?’

‘You’re the one who said he wanted to get out of here. Don’t you want to or not?’

‘Okay, okay. Right …’ He thought for a bit. Then, placing his hands on what had once been their legs, he muttered: ‘
Nemed qua perius
.’

The blanket of flesh started to itch, as if they were being bitten by a thousand lice.

‘Agh! Not that! Not that one!’ Taya cried. ‘Ehmm …
Reparicus
opic trum
!’

The itching stopped, but instead, the entire swathe of flesh knotted up in a painful cramp.

‘Aaaagh!’ Lorkrin squealed. ‘
Issith trayam tangem shest
!’

The cramp faded and was quickly replaced with the unbearable tingling of pins and needles. Taya squeezed her eyes shut.

‘Teop chem querrilous!

The tingling subsided, but was replaced with a burning sensation on their skin. Both Myunans winced and squirmed to escape it.

‘Opris tarrigus mestal crem
!’ Lorkrin gasped.

The burning cooled, and then their flesh went completely numb. Lorkrin rapped his knuckles on it. The skin beneath them was as solid as the wood of the water tank.

‘No wonder this stuff is banned,’ Taya said, sulking.

There was a lot of activity around the Harvest Tide Project, with messengers coming and going, and valuable records and materials being carried out, to be brought to safer
locations
. In all the bustle, no one noticed an extra guard walk around the corner and in the door. Even with the tattooed outline of a triangle etched on his face, he looked like just another messenger delivering news.

Emos picked up the first scroll that he found in one of the rooms, to complete the disguise, and began his search of the main building. Draegar had drawn him a portrait of the
botanist
and he had memorised it, but so far he had seen no one even resembling the sketch. The place was a maze of
corridors
and rooms, and it was not long before he was
wondering
if he would ever find Groach. They couldn’t even plan a rescue until they knew where he was. He stopped halfway down one hallway, his attention caught by a diagram on a notice board. It was a map of the building. Whatever else you said about the Noranians, they were organised. He found the staff quarters, in the basement, and decided it was as good a place as any to find the botanist. The Myunan took the first flight of stairs he came to and made his way down.

The corridors here were darker, and many were lined with shelves holding glass cases. Inside the cases, strange, mutated vegetables were growing in a greeny brown jelly. In another corridor, he discovered walls of glass, behind which
was a glowing blue fungus that lit up the hallway. He checked through the little window of each door for any sign of Groach, finding only one unknown scientist after another, either resting or reading. But most of the rooms were
completely
empty, with most of the staff working elsewhere.

Then he peered in another window, and there, sitting on his bed, deep in thought, was the man he was searching for. Emos tried the door, but it was bolted and padlocked. There could be no doubt about it; the Noranians knew that Groach had betrayed them. The Myunan was about to pick the lock, when he heard voices coming. Walking quickly in the
opposite
direction, he slipped around a corner and leaned against the wall. Taking a peek around the corner, he got a look at the three men – two soldiers and a man who appeared to be some kind of clerk. The clerk was speaking.

‘Forward-Batterer, I realise you want to get to the walls and see some “action”, but there is work to be done here, important work. Escorting prisoners may not be the kind of duty that wins you medals, but it is just as vital as driving an axe into the head of an enemy. This man is to be taken to cells in the Central Eb-Tower, and I … the Prime Ministrate wants it done now.’

‘Aye, sir. But then can we go to the walls? I wouldn’t like to miss the battle.’

‘Some would consider missing the battle a blessing, but it takes all sorts, I suppose. Yes, you may man the walls after Groach has been delivered safely to the river. Now, I need to ask him some more questions about where his friends are, and then we can get on with it. And you’re to make sure he gets a cell near the skack grub pens. He might as well get a taste of what’s to come tomorrow.’

Emos’s blood froze. Groach was to be fed to skack grubs? He thought even the Noranians had given up that particular death sentence. The botanist was to have the most painful death imaginable. While the Myunan waited for the clerk to come out again, he got to work with his tools, listening to the sound of Groach being put in shackles. He moulded his face, sculpting the tattoo up into his hair, where it was hidden. He would have to act quickly; it would find its way back onto his face before long. The little Noranian left the room and strode quickly up the corridor. Emos was ready by the time the soldiers led their captive out. Sweeping around the corner, he approached the three men, looking for all intents and purposes like the clerk who had just left.

‘The Prime Ministrate has changed his mind,’ he called, mimicking the clerk’s voice. ‘Every soldier is to make his way to the walls immediately. We have a crisis on our hands. Leave the keys to the prisoner’s shackles with me. I will take him to the cells myself.’

‘You?’ one of them asked, incredulously. ‘What if he tries to escape?’

‘Where can he run to, you idiot? We’re in the middle of Noran, with every gate guarded, and the enemy on our
doorstep
and he’s in shackles. Stop thinking with your axe and use your head for a change. Now give me the keys and go.’

The soldiers looked at one another, shrugged, and the Forward-Batterer tossed Emos the bunch of keys. Then they shouldered their weapons and hurried off to join their comrades.

‘Shessil, take no notice of my face. My name is Emos,’ he told the botanist.

‘Lorkrin and Taya’s uncle?’

‘That’s right. I’m here to get you out.’

‘But how?’

‘We’re going right out the front door. As far as anyone is concerned, I’m escorting you to the Central Eb-Tower. All we have to do is head towards the river and then lose
ourselves
in the back streets. Are you ready?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s get out of here.’

They passed through the hallways and up the stairs, Groach shuffling as fast as his leg irons would allow. As they headed for the front door, a coach was drawing up outside. Groach slowed down, but Emos egged him on.

‘We’re almost there,’ he muttered as they walked out.

The door of the ornate coach opened and the Prime
Ministrate
leaned out.

‘Ah, Mungret, there you are. And Shessil too, I see.’ He motioned to Emos. ‘Get in, and bring our little traitor. I have some more questions for him before we send him to the skack grubs. I need you to fetch me the plans for a siege defence. The Karthars and Braskhiams are closing on the outskirts and we’re going to have to close off the gates soon. I need those plans.’

Emos hesitated. They were surrounded by the Prime
Ministrate’s
escort. There was no chance of escape. Thinking fast, he nodded and shoved Groach in the direction of the coach. They climbed in and sat down opposite the Noranian leader. The door was closed behind them and the coach started off.

‘You’re not looking yourself today, Mungret,’ Namen
commented
. ‘Lungs at you again?’

‘Just all the excitement, Prime Ministrate,’ Emos wheezed, hoping the Noranian would not notice the difference in his
voice. His head was starting to itch. He had spent years learning to hide the Myunan plague brand under his hair where it could not be seen, but it was cursed always to find its way back to his face so that all those who came into
contact
with him would know what he was. Now he could feel it edging towards his hairline. Holding it at bay took enormous effort.

‘Yes, well we’ll soon show that scum what it means to betray Noran. And if the Karthars want to fight us on our home ground, they can pay the price too. I’ll cut down every last one of them.’

20 A B
EXEMOT
H
UNGRY FOR
L
OVE

On the river, the three eb-tower fortresses were being stocked up for a siege, with food, water, ammunition, and other supplies. The huge trees with their turrets, platforms and heavy weapons emplacements were a hive of hectic activity, so nobody noticed two extra barrels appear out of nowhere to join a stack that sat on the docks. They were picked up and carried past the guards, and onto the
island-like
base of the centre eb-tower. Every now and then, a pair of eyes would open on one of the barrels and glance around. Taya and Lorkrin had undone their uncle’s
transmorphing
. It had taken a lot of effort and a few near
accidents
to do it. They had suffered aches, stinging, swelling, numbness and dizziness, but they had finally managed it, and now they were determined to break Groach out. With no idea where to start looking, they had made their way to the eb-towers. Because they were tall and
important-looking
, and because Shessil said he worked with plants. For once, luck was on their side.

A coach led by an armoured wagon pulled past and stopped inside the gates leading onto the base of the huge
tree. A man who had to be the Noranian Prime Ministrate got out with a smaller man in tow, followed by Shessil Groach. They heard the Noranian leader order the second man to take the prisoner up to his quarters. Namen wanted to speak to the officer in charge of security for the eb-tower.

The two barrels sidled out of sight behind a pile of flour sacks and slunched back into their normal forms. Taya unwrapped her tools, and began to mould her skin into the texture of bark. Her hands trembled, slowing her down. The atmosphere was heavy with the threat of looming battle, but she blocked it out as she worked. Flushed with the thrill of the rescue, her mind was filled with their tribe’s tales of romantic adventure. She would show Uncle Emos that they were no longer children. The sound of alarm horns burst out above them, making her start. Cursing men’s stupid love of war, she gritted her teeth and added the finishing touches to her camouflage with a routing comb.

‘Where do you suppose they’re taking him?’ Lorkrin asked as he did the same.

‘The Prime Ministrate said his quarters. They’re probably really high up, near the top. That’s where I’d be if I lived here.’

‘We’d better check the windows as we go up, all the same. You never know.’ He twisted his head right around so that he could see as he worked on his back.

It did not take them long to complete their new forms.

‘Are you ready?’ his sister prompted.

‘Yeah, let’s go.’

Moving slowly until they reached the first branches, so as not to be noticed, the two Myunans began to climb. Their fingers and toes were long, and ended in hooked claws that could grasp any small crevice in the tree’s surface. Their
camouflage made them almost invisible against the dull brown bark, and they were careful to stay in the shadows wherever possible. Bit by bit, they made their way up the towering eb-tree. When they reached a ledge, Taya stopped for a rest, and gazed out over the city. Beyond the walls, past the factories and houses, she could see a dust cloud rising on one whole side of the city. Within it, there were hundreds – no, thousands – of soldiers and vehicles, an army moving in a wave towards the centre of Noran.

‘There’s going to be one almighty fight,’ Lorkrin
whispered
beside her.

‘Let’s make sure Shessil isn’t here when it happens,’ she replied.

They both went still as a guard strode around a walkway above them. He carried on around the trunk and tramped down some stairs. All about them, men and women were busy preparing for the siege. Weapons were being loaded and buckets of water positioned to put out fires. People ran back and forth carrying things and shouting to one another. There was a feeling of adrenalin-charged urgency in the air. Lorkrin had always wanted to see a battle. Like every other boy he knew, he had played at war with his friends. Now he was seeing it as it truly was, and his heart was thumping in his chest, his stomach knotted with excitement and fear. His scrape with death when he fell in the esh had changed him, and for the first time, he had been faced with the knowledge that people could die for stupid reasons,
without
noble last words, or some heroic last stand. Death was fickle. And today, in this battle, everybody would be facing down fate. Something in Lorkrin got a sickening thrill from that knowledge.

They had to stop again when they were blocked by the floor of a heavy crossbow emplacement. There seemed to be no way around. There was a turret filled with soldiers to their right and a walkway to their left, with people stamping up and down it in a constant stream. They had reached a dead end. Taya pressed herself as flat as she could. Her
camouflage
was good, but hanging here as they were, their shapes could be seen against the curve of the tree by anyone who looked hard enough. She swore silently. They might have to give up and head back down.

Lorkrin bit his lip, feeling the strain starting to tell down his arms and shoulders. He was suspended from his claws and his toes were beginning to cramp. He stole a glance at Taya, and could see that she was also struggling to remain still.

‘We’re stuck. We’ll have to go back down,’ Taya hissed.

‘Wait!’ Lorkrin tugged her arm. ‘We can get up that way!’

Out along a branch was a rope ladder that hung from a platform where a winch sat for hauling up supplies from the base of the tree. The platform was well above the level of the crossbow emplacement, and they would make a lot of
headway
if they took that route. There was no one at the winch. It would mean climbing out in full view, but it was less risky than taking the stairs. They walked out on the branch,
balancing
precariously, Lorkrin reaching the suspended ladder first. He checked below them, to make sure that there was nobody climbing up, and then started his ascent to the
platform
. Watching him go, Taya prayed that he was not seen. Disguised as he was, he looked like a thin, dead tree stump making for the sky. Even the dumbest soldier would be bound to get a mite suspicious.

He crawled onto the platform and waved her up. She took the ladder in both hands and scaled it quickly. Up by the winch, there were coils of thick rope and harnesses of
various
kinds. A gurney was slung from a cable between the platform and the tree trunk, and together they jumped on and slid the length of the cable to the relative cover of the trunk. Here, they stepped off the walkway and clung to the heavily ridged wood, continuing their climb, peering into windows as they went up, looking for signs of Shessil or the Prime Ministrate.

Draegar and Hilspeth found their way to an outdoor kitchen that served tourists to Noran. He had to keep a low profile as Parsinors were being arrested all over the city, but she was relatively free to wander and find out more about what was going on. While she stood waiting for her soup, Hilspeth talked casually to the old woman who was serving. Draegar sat down at the table in the corner, keeping a wary eye out for soldiers.

Hilspeth joined him with the food, pushing the soup and some bread towards the Parsinor.

‘Apparently the Prime Ministrate is raging. He has the word out that we are to be executed when they find us. All the Myunans and Parsinors that they’ve found can’t tell them anything, so the Noranians are threatening to execute them if we’re not captured.’

‘Damn their rotten souls! Any word on what’s happening beyond the walls?’

‘The Braskhiams and the Karthars are almost at the
outskirts
of the city. They’ve smashed their way past the sentry
posts in the hills, and have sent word that they want the Prime Ministrate himself or they will sack the city.’

‘They could do it too, if they could take the eb-towers. Listen, I’ve been around this area before. I used to sell maps to the Noranians. We need to cause some chaos, give Emos the chance to break Shessil out, and maybe do some damage to the eb-towers into the bargain. If we can distract the
Noranians
’ attention, Emos can save Shessil. I know how he thinks. This is what we need to do.’

After he had explained what he had in mind, Hilspeth nodded.

‘I know exactly how to do that.’

Emos followed the Prime Ministrate up the stairway,
keeping
Groach ahead of him. This was not going according to plan. While they were surrounded by soldiers, there was little hope of getting the botanist out, and his head was starting to itch intolerably. It was all he could do to stop from constantly scratching it. The brand would show on his face before long, and then his disguise would be useless. Cossock, the monstrous bodyguard, stayed close behind him so he was unable to say anything to Groach. After a seemingly endless climb, they reached the Prime
Ministrate’s
quarters. Namen gestured Emos and their prisoner into the main study.

‘Pull out everything we have on siege strategies while I’m gone. I must see to the defences. I’ll be back soon.’

With that, he left and they were alone together.

‘What are we going to do now?’ Groach asked.

‘I’m thinking,’ the Myunan replied. Walking to the
window, he looked out and wondered how far down it was to the river. Too far, he decided.

Rak Ek Namen went down the steps three at a time with Cossock at his heels. There was so much to deal with and so little time. He was convinced Groach’s friends were Karthar spies, and that they must be found before they could cause any more harm. Then there was the battle ahead. The opposing army was strong, but they were tired from
travelling
and would not be well supplied; he was sure he could defeat them.

He nearly ran into Mungret, who was climbing up the steps towards him. Namen stared at him.

‘I thought I told you to …’ He paused, frowning.

‘To what, Prime Ministrate?’ Mungret enquired, knowing trouble brewing when he saw it.

‘Grab him!’ Namen shoved the clerk at Cossock and raced back up the stairs.

Emos was listening at the door. When he heard the
Noranian
leader running up the steps, he turned and cast his eyes around the room. There was no time to amorph into another disguise. In the shadows between two bookcases, there was a stand holding an array of antique spears and swords. He stared at them for a moment.