Angel Arias Read online

  She swung around sharply, her hand raised as if she might slap him. ‘You little monster . . .’ Then just as suddenly, she dropped her hand and burst into tears. ‘We were trothed. When you’re trothed, it’s different.’

  ‘Father would have minded,’ said Jarrold unrelentingly. ‘Help her, Em, or I’ll tell Father I saw you alone with him. The wardens will question you. They were bad enough when he left, poking around here.’

  Emilia dashed her hand across her face to wipe the tears away. ‘You’d help her and blad on me?’

  ‘You’re so scared of everything. Why can’t you ever stand up for yourself? You let Father –’

  ‘Jarrold!’ Emilia’s low, distraught cry stopped him, his own face flushing to match hers.

  The anger between them made Naif want to leave. But she couldn’t – wouldn’t – until she found out what she needed to know, so she sat there feeling sick and uncomfortable, reminding herself that brothers and sisters were like that sometimes.

  Joel and she used to have arguments. At least, Joel would argue and she would sit there mute, just as she did now. That was something she regretted; not speaking her thoughts more.

  So she forced herself to speak up. ‘Jarrold, be respectful of your sister. It’s harder for girls in Grave. Boys can do things and not be chastised. Even Seal boys.’

  The pair stopped glaring at each other and looked at her with surprise.

  ‘You have a brother?’ asked Emilia.

  Naif nodded. ‘I have a brother who was braver than me, always disagreeing with our father. Father beat him for it.’

  ‘Is it true that Seal girls can’t speak to others?’

  ‘Yes. I mean . . . we are only allowed to speak to a few. Our parents, brothers, sisters and sometimes a single friend.’

  ‘No wonder you ran away. I would too,’ said Jarrold.

  ‘Hush,’ said Emilia. ‘Don’t even think such a thing.’

  ‘See, there you go –’

  Naif stood up. ‘Please. People I know are in danger. Can you help me?’

  The pair stopped and looked at her again.

  Reluctantly, Emilia nodded. ‘Very well. I’ll ask Father about the meeting tonight.’

  ‘What about Markes. Where will the wardens take him?’ Naif persisted.

  ‘He’ll be in the Holding House. It’s where they took Janna Shay after he burned the little cathedral. It’s on the other side of Deope,’ said Emilia. ‘But you’ll never get there without someone recognising you.’

  Jarrold leapt to his feet. ‘I know a hidden way. I can show her.’

  ‘No. Now, shhhh! Father will be here soon,’ said Emilia. ‘I go to the markets early tomorrow with Mama. The Holding House is close by. I can slip away and pretend I’m lost. See if he is there.’

  ‘Mother won’t let you go off alone. Let me take Naif during mid-morning prayers. Everyone is inside then. We’ll go through Deope.’

  ‘Deope isn’t safe,’ Emilia said automatically.

  ‘Course it is,’ said her brother. ‘Gurney and I went through it last spring.’

  ‘What’s Deope?’ asked Naif. She knew so little about her own city; it frustrated her.

  Jarrold raised his eyebrows. ‘You’ve never heard of Deope?’

  When Naif shook her head, he went on. ‘The Grand Elders built Grave on the ruins of an old city. Most of the old city had been destroyed except some walls and such and a bridge.’

  ‘Where is the bridge?’

  ‘Underneath some of our houses.’

  ‘A bridge, under the ground?’ Naif asked.

  ‘Like I said, we built our city on top of it. I mean, it’s ancient. So much dirt and rock had built up that it looked like flat land. Wasn’t ’til things started collapsing in a particular place that they realised what was underneath. The bridge runs from the north water tower just near here to West Grave.’

  ‘We learned about it at school. Didn’t you?’ chimed in Emilia. ‘The bridge has two levels and runs over a deep underground river. That’s why our wells are so plentiful with water.’

  Now that they were sharing their knowledge they seemed easier with each other.

  ‘When the land subsided and the giant holes began to appear, the Elders didn’t know how to fix it. And it’s too dangerous to excavate, so instead they made all the people leave their houses,’ added Jarrold. ‘That area is called Deope.’

  Naif tried to blink away her tiredness. Weariness had fallen upon her like a heavy blanket. ‘So there’re a lot of houses, as long as an old bridge, which are deserted?’

  ‘No one goes there anymore,’ said Jarrold.

  Naif stared at him, trying to imagine such a thing.

  ‘When Gurney and I went through, we saw things, and heard funny noises. And the smell!’ Jarrold added.

  ‘You went all the way through?’ asked his sister suspiciously. ‘From the water tower to the Holding House?’

  Jarrold nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Emilia shook her head disapprovingly. ‘Stop telling lies.’

  ‘It’s not a lie,’ said Jarrold with heat. ‘I went down there and I saw things.’

  Before they could argue any more the clock on Emilia’s narrow mantelpiece chimed.

  Both of them leapt as if stung.

  ‘Em?’ whispered Jarrold.

  ‘Go with Jarrold,’ Emilia instructed Naif.

  Her whole expression changed to one of apprehension and she went to sit at her desk, her hands nervously smoothing her nightgown.

  Jarrold tugged at Naif’s arm. ‘Quick.’

  She followed him across the corridor into his room. He opened up the coal hutch and motioned to her to climb inside. Unlike the one in Emilia’s room which they’d said was empty, this one had a rug and a pillow in there.

  ‘I hide here sometimes. To get out of chores. Now get in and keep quiet. Father will come to my room first but he won’t stay long with me.’

  As Naif tucked herself into the tiny square of space, she wondered if she’d really heard him emphasise the word ‘me’, or if tiredness was playing tricks on her hearing.

  He shut the door and moved around the room, falling silent a few seconds before his father walked in. She heard heavy footsteps and the harsh voice. It reminded Naif so much of her own father that her throat grew tight.

  The wall muffled their conversation but it sounded like they were saying prayers together. After a brief good-night the bedroom door closed again.

  A while passed before Jarrold opened the coal hutch. Lamplight flooded in to the small space, making her blink.

  He put his fingers to his lips and got down on his knees so he could whisper in her ear. ‘Father is with Emilia so you must stay quiet. Sleep now and I’ll wake you up in the morning.’ He pushed another pillow into her hands and a greasy string of liquorice.

  ‘Jarrold, I need to use the bathroom,’ Naif whispered back.

  He frowned. ‘Fross! It’s downstairs.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve been walking all day. Do you have a bed pot?’ Naif’s face warmed with embarrassment at having to ask but she couldn’t ignore her need any longer.

  ‘Mother doesn’t like pots. Says they breed sickness.’ He bit his lip and glanced at the door. ‘We can get past Father, but Mother will be downstairs in the kitchen. I’ll talk to her while you . . . you know.’

  Naif flushed even deeper. ‘Will that work?’

  He nodded and gave a fleeting grin. ‘Oh, yes. Mother finds me very distracting.’

  Naif got up out of the hutch.

  Jarrold took a dressing gown off the hook behind the door and handed it to her. ‘Emilia and I have the same gown. Fold the collar up around your neck. You could look like Em, a bit. I’ll go into the kitchen and get some food then pretend to go to the bathroom on the way back.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Turn left at the bottom of the stairs. The kitchen is on the right.’

  ‘Thank you. And . . . thank you.’

  He nodded and p
aused, clearly wanting to say something more. ‘Markes and I were like . . . I mean . . . he’d have been a good brother. You know?’

  Naif nodded. She did know what it was like to have a brother you loved. And she wished he was here with her now.

  Jarrold blinked the sheen of moisture from his eyes and his adventurous grin returned. ‘Step when I step so it sounds like one person. I’ll go slowly.’

  As they crept onto the landing and down the stairs, Emilia’s door remained closed.

  Naif concentrated on putting her feet down at the same time as Jarrold’s and cringed every time the floorboards creaked.

  They made it to the foot of the stairs without discovery and Jarrold pointed to a heavy, louvred door on the left. Naif tiptoed down the corridor towards it while Jarrold proceeded down the other side of the corridor to the kitchen.

  She shut the door and relieved herself quickly. Her stomach immediately stopped aching and she rinsed her hands in the basin and then tipped the water into the waste pipe. Doing that reminded her of the effluent smell in the Grave alleys. She fought her gag reflex and cracked open the door to watch for Jarrold.

  Before long he came down her side of the corridor. She fell in behind him as he climbed the stairs.

  As they reached the landing, Emilia’s door handle turned. Jarrold shoved Naif through his open doorway and turned around to block it with the width of his chunky body.

  ‘Jarrold?’ His father sounded huskier but still stern.

  ‘I was hungry, Father.’

  ‘You know you’re not to come out of your room after prayers.’

  ‘Pardon, Father.’

  ‘Close your door and don’t leave until morning. Where is your mother?’

  ‘In the kitchen mending Emilia’s tunic.’

  ‘Goodnight, Jarrold.’

  Their father’s tone was so commanding that Naif felt, for a moment, like she was back in the compound with Father.

  Jarrold backed through the doorway, his body continuing to shield any view of the room. As soon as he shut the door, he bundled Naif back into the coal hutch, clicking the door shut on her before she could say a word.

  Almost simultaneously, she heard his bedroom door swing open again.

  ‘Father?’ said the boy in a calm, surprised tone.

  ‘What are you up to, Jarrold?’

  ‘N-nothing, Father. I told you I was hungry. And the hounds are keeping me awake. What’s happening outside?’

  ‘Miscreants, no doubt. Boys who don’t obey their parents. Get into bed.’ This time his father’s voice made Naif tremble. There was so much power in it. And threat.

  ‘I was just getting a book to read, Father.’

  ‘Not tonight. You’ve disobeyed the rules.’

  The cracks of light that seeped into her tiny hiding place abruptly vanished, leaving her in the pitch black.

  She waited, unsure what to do.

  After long moments, the bedroom door opened then closed. Jarrold’s father was checking again.

  This time an eternity passed before the hutch door opened. Jarrold peered in, his face barely visible in the darkness.

  ‘He suspects something. I’d better stay in bed. I’ll have to leave the hutch door shut in case he checks on me,’ he whispered. ‘Here’s another rug.’

  He passed it to her.

  ‘Thank you,’ Naif whispered. ‘Jarrold, what does your father do in Emilia’s room?’

  Jarrold’s made a soft, strangled sound as if he was trying to speak but it wouldn’t come out. Then he shut the door without answering and left her alone.

  Exhausted from her walk across the city, Naif slept despite the hutch being cramped and stuffy. Her dreams were disturbed; Markes lying in a coffin, and conversations with dead Toola. But worst was her nightmare about Emilia; a creature with strong, oily fingers reaching from under the girl’s bed and grasping her throat the way the Night Creature had taken Krista-belle. Naif woke from that one with a start, her chest heaving and tears on her face.

  Krista-belle. I’m sorry.

  She uncurled a little and rolled over. The space was not quite big enough for her to straighten out so she sat up keeping her head bent, and stretched her cramping legs. The darkness seemed a little less, suggesting morning was close.

  Even though some of her energy had returned, her head was thick, as though she was about to become ill. Wriggling into a more comfortable position, she lay down again and thought about the last few days.

  It had been a terrible risk to come back to Grave and yet her compulsion to do so, to find the truth, remained unshakeable. But Markes was now in the hands of the wardens and it was her fault. She’d wanted him – urged him – to come with her.

  What would they do to him? What would he tell them?

  She must find a way to free him. But what if they’d already administered an obedience strip to him? He hadn’t practised with pain like she had. He wouldn’t be able to withstand it. And there was only one day left before Ruzalia returned,

  A noise in the room made her stiffen and then she heard Emilia’s voice.

  Cracking open the door to the hutch she peered out.

  Emilia was holding a candle and tugging at Jarrold, who lay rolled in a ball under a sheet, snoring.

  ‘Emilia?’ she called softly.

  The girl put her finger to her mouth and continued to shake Jarrold awake.

  He took a few moments to rouse from his deep sleep. ‘Wha–’

  ‘Sssh. The meeting is late today in a place called Oracion. That’s all I could find out.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ asked Jarrold, rubbing his face.

  ‘I don’t know but the wardens will search for Naif again soon – at dawn. You’d best take her now.’

  Jarrold sat up and rubbed his face, then he looked at his sister.

  ‘Is Markes in the Holding House?’ asked Naif.

  She nodded. ‘The wardens will hurt him to find out what you are doing here. I have to go. Father’ll be waking soon.’

  Naif noticed the dark rings under her eyes and the tense set of her mouth.

  ‘Thank you, Emilia,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll look for you at the markets.’

  Jarrold climbed out of bed and wrapped his sister in a bear hug. ‘Thanks, Em.’

  She sagged against him a little, then pulled away and handed him a key. ‘Go through the workshop.’

  Jarold took it from her and nodded.

  As she slipped out of the room, he scrubbed his face again and went across to his drawers to pull out some clothes. While he changed, Naif kept her back turned, collecting the blankets and pillow from the coal hutch and returning them to his bed.

  ‘My friend Gurney will know where Oracion is. He lives near the Holding House. We’ll go there first.’

  ‘No,’ said Naif. ‘Markes first.’ Even though there was little time to spare, she couldn’t bear to think of him alone with the wardens – or what they might have done to him.

  He handed her a fleecy shirt to wear over her shift.

  She put it on as he rummaged underneath his rack of clothes. From there he produced a pair of boots.

  A surge of gratitude flooded through her. Jarrold was a kind boy, fired by the idea of adventure. Again he reminded her of Joel.

  Just as well, she thought. Or he may have shut the door in my face yesterday.

  She put the boots on and laced them tight, trying not to worry about her filthy feet. Jarrold opened up a small box that sat on top of his drawers and, with his back turned to Naif, took out several items, which he put in his pocket. He turned and gestured to the door. They crept downstairs as they had earlier, Naif keeping her steps in time with his.

  They reached the front door without incident but as Jarrold put his hand on the latch, a loud knock rattled the whole frame. It was followed by a low whine.

  Hound.

  Jarrold froze but Naif reacted instantly, pulling his fingers away from the door before he could open it.

 
‘Wardens,’ she mouthed.

  He snapped out of his trance and led her back down the corridor to the kitchen. On their way through, he scooped up some fruit and bread and stuffed them inside his coat. He stopped at the cold safe and opened it, grabbing out a slab of cheese.

  Then he unlatched the back door and they were outside.

  The tiny alley behind their house was more of a crack between buildings. The back wall of the Clockmaker’s loomed up immediately in front.

  Naif began to walk towards one end but Jarrold pulled her back. ‘They could be waiting down the end. Best go through the shop.’

  He produced the key from his pocket and busied himself at a large padlock that secured a door in the wall in front of them. It took some moments of jiggling before it opened. ‘Emilia and Markes used to meet in here.’

  As he spoke, a light went on in a room at the top of the house. The curtain drew back and a figure stood framed in the window.

  ‘It’s Emilia,’ said Naif.

  ‘She won’t tell where we’re going,’ reassured Jarrold as the lock clicked open. ‘My sister never tells, no matter what she says.’

  ‘But what if your father . . . what if he makes her?’

  ‘Em knows how to keep things from him. She’s had to,’ said Jarrold. ‘Here. Best get inside, before they send someone around the back.’

  They entered quickly.

  Jarrold brought the lock and chain with him. While he secured it from the inside, Naif stopped and looked around. They were in a large storage area that appeared to lead into a smaller front building. From what she could see in the gloom, the workbenches harboured tool pouches and sheaves of thin wood. The air was tainted with the smell of wood oils.

  ‘Come on. Won’t take the hounds long to work out we came through here,’ said Jarrold.

  She followed him into the shopfront where they had to slow to negotiate the narrow aisles between rows and rows of clocks. Though it was dark, many bore eerily glowing decorations, lending the room some light. The ones hanging on the walls had long-tailed birds painted on their square faces and cone-ended pendulums hanging below; the kind that Naif knew were in many Grave homes, even Seal homes. They had one themselves, though it was smaller and with only a single bird.