The Pilgrims

8

The Otherworlder caught his breath in gasping heaves. Encasing him were the smooth, cool walls of a dark cavern. Sharfy marvelled at the young man’s luck on several counts, not least because he’d run just past the mouth of this groundman hole. Sharfy’s charity would not have stretched as far as going aboveground to wave him over if he’d sprinted off at a different angle. Even from a distance he’d recognised the young man from their brief excursion through the entry point.

Anfen and the others would be intrigued to have an Otherworlder brought back alive … what was the word Loup had used for them? Pilgrims. Whatever that meant. Them mages and their secrets and lore they didn’t share, just cos they didn’t think you’d understand it.

On tiptoe Sharfy observed the war mage, whose cries and rasps still echoed off the valley walls. How lucky of the young man to get past it. Suspiciously lucky. ‘Do you even know what that was?’ Sharfy asked him.

The young man shook his head.

‘War mage,’ said Sharfy, smiling. His smile was not pretty, he knew — he had a face full of scars and old pocks, a head like a bruised and dented apple. It invited people to recoil from him, to distrust him. No matter. If the young man was around long enough, he’d find Sharfy kept his word when he gave it. ‘Don’t have war mages in Otherworld, do you? No spells, you said. It should’ve killed you. Like it killed everything else that come through. Even a bird that flew in, it killed. It speak to you? They speak strange.’

The young man swallowed, still a little shaken. He was no warrior, that was certain. Too young for a magician, surely. ‘It spoke,’ he said. ‘I didn’t understand, but it told me to run.’

Sure, sure it did. He thinks I’ll believe that, eh? Fine, I’ll act like I do. But something happened, all right … ‘Stay there for now, get your breath. But no noise. There’s stuff in these tunnels we don’t want to hear us. Got it?’

‘Sure. Thanks.’

‘Don’t thank me, thank your dumb luck,’ said Sharfy. But he could not keep up the pretence. ‘Come on, how’d you get past it? You carrying a charm?’

‘No.’

‘Sure about that? I won’t steal it. You can tell me. I’m ugly but I keep my word.’

‘No charm. We don’t have spells, don’t have charms.’

Sharfy scoffed. ‘What do you have?’

‘Newsagencies and dumb luck, I guess.’ Eyeing off possible escape, the young man peered down where the tunnel curved off to the left, narrow at first but wider at the end. It was thinly lit by little glowing lightstones embedded in the walls, gleaming like pretty eyes. Then he jumped in alarm as an answering shriek to the war mage’s call came from off towards the castle.

‘Damn it,’ Sharfy muttered, looking back through the tunnel’s mouth. ‘I’m not gonna get it now.’

‘Get it?’ The Otherworlder laughed grimly. ‘Were you going to attack that thing?’

‘Sure. It’s about to cook itself. It casts a couple more spells, it’ll almost melt. They don’t get like this, mostly. One or two spells and the fight’s over. But it’s been busy out there. Most of the killing, it’s had to do in the last hour. That’s why it kept calling for a friend to come help it. Hear that sound? Knows it’s in trouble. Great time to go out and cut its throat, while it’s stumbling around, blind with heat.’ Or let it cook itself, which it would do without a thought for its own life. Then go and take the staff from its harmless corpse. They were worth a fortune. Could cut off its horns too, sell them for a few scales each, or more. But the answering cry sounded again, closer …

The young man bent over and retched. Nothing came out but a string of saliva and some unpleasant noise. ‘What’s the matter?’ said Sharfy.

‘It was eating one of the bodies.’

‘Eh! So?’

‘So excuse me for mentioning it. Maybe it’s what you guys do here instead of go get a hamburger, but I don’t see that sort of thing very often.’

‘Keep your voice down. If you think that’s bad, things I seen would turn your hair white. They’ll eat anything. Helps em cool off inside. Twigs, grass, seen em eat rocks.’ The twigs and grass part was true enough; it was theoretically possible that a war mage might eat rocks, which to Sharfy was just as good as being true. ‘Relax,’ he said. ‘Don’t think about it.’

Some time passed in silence as Sharfy watched outside, though his ears were carefully tuned behind him for sudden movements (if the skinny young man thought he’d get the jump on Sharfy, he was making a big mistake). No more people fell through the gaps between worlds. And those two Invia up on the rock wall hadn’t moved once. The newly arrived war mage came and sat beside the first. They seemed to hold a conversation made of clawing gestures and hopping dances.

‘Can I ask something?’ said the Otherworlder.

‘You don’t need permission to speak. I’m not your Lord.’

‘Why is it you speak my language?’

Sharfy grinned. ‘Ha! I don’t. Something happens when you cross through. Loup told us it might happen but we didn’t believe him. Nor would you, if you knew him.’ Sharfy laughed very hard at this witticism and slapped his knee. ‘You’re still thinking in your own tongue, but speaking in ours. At least that’s what it sounds like to me. Some words you say don’t make sense, that’s all. Like hum burg uh.’

‘How does that work exactly?’

Sharfy didn’t like questions he didn’t have a good answer to. ‘Something on the barrier between here and there, Loup says. Says there’s a reason for it, but wouldn’t say what. Dragon’s will.’ He waved the subject away irritably.

‘Can you still speak English?’

This guy and his questions, jeez. Sharfy tapped his head. ‘All gone. Unless I go back.’ He scowled, thinking of the peculiar diamond-studded sky, and the howling metal demon rocking side to side as it careered past with living people in its belly. ‘Which I won’t. Didn’t like the place.’

‘You didn’t see much of it. Try the seafood, next time.’

‘Eh? No! Not going back. Why’d you come through anyway?’

The Otherworlder laughed. ‘It’s either a very long story or a very short one. Not sure which.’ He was relaxed, off guard at last. Now was a good time to disarm him. Sharfy had his knife out quickly. The thin white smoke wafting from its enchantment felt cold. The young man backed against the wall but didn’t reach for a weapon. ‘Have to check,’ said Sharfy, ‘since I don’t know you yet. Weapons?’

‘No. I could’ve attacked you when your back was turned if that’s what I wanted.’

‘And your guts’d be spilled on the ground.’

The young man emptied his pockets. Sharfy went through his confusing leather pouch with great care, taking out some small pieces of paper and some metal coins, which he examined for some time with growing excitement. What would some of those Engineers in Tanton or Elvury pay for these? Or those rich snobby collectors at the Bazaar? Voice casual, he said, ‘What city these from?’

‘No city you’ve heard of.’

‘Aw c’mon, just tell me.’

‘Gotham City. Those are genuine Gotham City coins. Keep it all. It’s not worth much.’

‘Not to you.’ He handed back the soft leather pouch, pocketing the coins and glad the young man’s gift had spared him a moral dilemma: to rob or not to rob? It would’ve been a tough one. ‘What about that box?’ he said, pointing at the square leather case.

‘Just a briefcase. Here.’ The young man clicked it open. Sharfy excitedly rifled through it, grabbing out sheets of paper. ‘That’s my resume. That’s my bus schedule. Enjoy them. Rare and precious things, they are.’

Sharfy nodded agreement. ‘Good for trade or for paying tolls. Groundmen love the strange writing. Those paper blocks we took, all blank. Quality, though. Would sell decent if we got it to a city, but Anfen said too much bag room to carry.’

‘I could write on the printing paper, if that’s valuable to you.’

‘Too late, we used it for fire. What else you got here? What’s this?’ He held a cold metal object, encased in what almost seemed a small leather scabbard with shoulder straps. He’d seen one of these when they’d gone through the entry point.

The Otherworlder hesitated. ‘It’s nothing. All these boxes have them.’

‘I knew that. But what’s it do? Weapon?’

‘I’ll show you …’ The young man held a hand out for it.

Watchful, Sharfy gave it back, with faith enough in his enchanted knives and the speed in his arm, if it came to that.

‘It makes light,’ said the young man. ‘But this one’s broken. It’s a cheap one. See?’ He pulled the trigger: click, click. ‘Light’s supposed to come out of this end. Must have been the fall that broke it.’

‘Won’t matter,’ said Sharfy, mollified. ‘I know these tunnels. Better than anyone.’

‘Still, maybe I can find someone to fix it. Do you want to keep it, or should I?’

‘Not much room in my pockets,’ Sharfy grunted. ‘You take it. And these?’ Sharfy held up two smooth black objects that felt cool in his hand.

‘Those are computer parts, called clips …’

‘What’s a … com pu hor?’

‘It’s … well, a device for computing, I guess. Working out numbers, that sort of thing. Kind of difficult to explain. Mind if I hang on to them?’ But Sharfy smelled something up … perhaps these were the Otherworlder’s weapons. He hadn’t got past that war mage from the goodness of its heart, after all …

Sharfy pocketed the ‘clips’ and noted the Otherworlder’s jaw clench with frustration. ‘Your name?’

‘Eric.’

‘Sharfy. Not my name, but ’swhat they call me. Let’s get out of here. I’m not waiting for both those mages to cook. Enough death and killing. Turns my guts.’

Eric groaned. ‘Shit! Case might come through there. I left him a message by the door.’

‘A friend? He might be all right. You got through.’

‘I can’t risk it. What can we do?’

‘We do nothing,’ Sharfy said. ‘I took enough risk with you down here. It probably saw where you went.’ This was a new and startling thought. ‘We have to move! Get up.’ The Otherworlder began to protest until the knife reappeared in his hand.