Shade’s Children. Garth Nix

through the Sub to the changing room?”

      “Y-y-es,” stuttered Gold-Eye, getting to his feet, relief making his muscles so shaky that he clutched at the armrest for support.

      “Go back there,” said Shade. He seemed to think for a moment, then said, “Sim will meet you there and show you where you will sleep and so on…”

      He stopped as Gold-Eye raised his hand again nervously, arm shaking.

      “New person?” asked Gold-Eye anxiously. “Not Ella, Drum, Ninde?”

      “Sim looks after everyone new here. He’ll show you the ropes… show you how things are done,” Shade replied. “But… yes… I think you will work with Ella’s team. Your precognitive talent, your seeing things in the ‘soon-to-benow’ will be a useful addition to that team.

      “So. You will go and meet Sim now. He will guide you through the Sub and fit you out with the standard equipment. You will then return here. I want to record your experience of escaping the Dorms before… before you go out again tomorrow. After that, you will report to Ella, and perhaps there will be time for a lesson before sleep. Is that clear?”

      “Yes,” said Gold-Eye.

      “Good,” replied Shade. He leaned forward and made a fluttering motion with his right hand. “You may go.”

      Gold-Eye needed no encouraging. The lights still hadn’t come back on, but the image of Shade himself gave off enough light for him to find the hatch. As it clanged shut behind him, he let out a small sigh of relief – then jumped in panic, hitting his head, as Shade’s voice echoed through the corridor.

      “I forgot to say something, Gold-Eye,” the disembodied voice whispered from roof and floor and walls.

      “Welcome aboard.”

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      After a single, bewildering night in the Submarine, Gold-Eye found himself outside again soon after dawn the next morning. Under the finger wharf, up to his armpits in extremely cold sea water.

      This time his rags were gone, replaced with the dark-green coveralls the others wore. From his wide leather belt a sword and other equipment hung, including a length of rope, added to the basic equipment after the team’s recent experience. His hair was also greatly changed; he had practically none left. Just a thin layer of fuzz remained after an electric razor had removed months of hair and matted dirt.

      Ella, Drum and Ninde were there too. Uncharacteristically quiet, in Ninde’s case. She stood as far away from Drum and Ella as she could and didn’t look up at anyone.

      They waded in silence to the drain entrance, where Drum helped everybody up from below and then clambered up himself with the assistance of all three pulling on one thigh-like arm.

      “OK,” said Ella, taking out her Myrmidon witchlight and squeezing it on. “Flashlights on? All working? Good. Now, we’re going to take the Main Drain to the Main Junction, then South Drain Twelve. We’ll have to count manholes from the junction – Ninde, I want you to do that to check me. We’ll exit at manhole twenty-seven, which is inside the University grounds.

      “If we get separated for any reason, you’ve got two choices. If you’re not hurt and you think everyone else will make it, aim for the South Drain Twelve rendezvous. Otherwise, return to the Sub and report to Shade. Any questions?”

      “Yes,” said Gold-Eye, mindful of Shade’s instruction that it was good to have questions. “How tell which drain?”

      “Good question,” said Ella. “I forgot you’re new. Look over here.”

      She walked a little further up the drain, adjusting her stance to the curve of the tunnel and the patches of ambitious green slime that left the water to climb up the walls. About ten feet in from the entrance, she held the witchlight up to illuminate a bronze plaque.

      Looking closer, Gold-Eye saw that it read, ADIT 10 EAST. PCW.

      “Ten East is what we call the Main Drain,” explained Ella. “It leads to the Main Junction – which we’ll pass through – and becomes Ten West. For all the other drains, we use the exact names on these bronze plates – which are always this high and located about this far in from any junction or outfall. Do you understand?”

      “Yes,” confirmed Gold-Eye, with a noticeable rise in confidence. He’d thought they all just memorised the entire storm-water drain grid and had extraordinary senses of direction – even down here in the dark, watery corridors.

      “OK. Check swords,” said Ella, drawing hers half out of the sheath to make sure it ran free. The others copied her action, Gold-Eye somewhat nervously. He’d been given it the night before by Sim, the cheerful older boy who seemed to look after an awful lot on the Sub, not just new arrivals.

      Gold-Eye had had half an hour of practice with the sword the night before, but it was still the sharpest, heaviest weapon he’d ever handled. The steel blade was etched with gold in swirly lines that Sim had said “disrupt the creatures’ electromagnetic nervous systems.” He’d laughed and nodded when Gold-Eye had asked, “Does that help kill him?”

      “Everybody ready?” asked Ella as Gold-Eye finally managed to put his sword back into the sheath. “OK. I’ll go first – then Ninde – then Gold-Eye. Drum, you take rear guard. Let’s go!”

      Her words echoed into the dark tunnel ahead and were lost in the soft burble of the descending waters. The four followed the echo, the gold pool of witchlight and the harsh white beams of the flashlights, bobbing and spinning as they jumped from side to side along the tunnel, seeking the best and fastest footing.

      An hour later Ella called the first rest break. It was hard work walking in the tunnel, with one foot always higher up the curve and many patches of slime to jump over. Then there were the junctions with lesser tunnels, to be waded across using ropes or linked arms. Always there was the oppressive darkness, the sudden heat as hot water flowed in from a side tunnel – and the fear when the burbling water rose to a roar, fear subsiding as the water returned to its steady flow.

      They rested in a small chamber above the tunnel, reached by a rusty steel ladder that rose up through the ceiling of the tunnel and on up another twenty feet. Remnants of pre-Change times filled it, arcane objects known to them from videos and training lessons: a mildewed map of the drains on the wall, next to a pictorial calendar of naked women, now clothed in mould; two hard hats on hooks; an open tool kit on the floor, filled with rusted objects.

      “We’re pretty close to the Main Junction,” Ella said as she handed out bars of chocolate. These were still pristine in their foil wrappers, despite a fifteen-year wait on supermarket shelves, a wait broken only when they were retrieved by the teams Shade sent scavenging.

      “There are two upper walkways well above the water – in addition to the walkways around the sides, which tend to be a bit submerged. We’ll be taking those. So we’ll stop a bit short to listen for Myrmidons, let Ninde concentrate, and so on. If you have any of your visions, Gold-Eye, speak up.”

      They ate in silence after Ella spoke, sipping from their water bottles. It was hot and airless in the room and Gold-Eye felt himself drifting off into sleep. As his head nodded forward, he felt the familiar grip of the soon-to-be-now – but just as the vision was about to come to him, Ninde shook him and it was lost.

      “Come on!” said Ninde, switching on her flashlight. “We’re going.”

      Gold-Eye followed her with the pressure of an unrealised vision throbbing at his temples and a sick swirling emptiness in his stomach. His glimpses of the soon-to-be-now were nearly always warnings of something bad about to happen – but not always. For a moment he considered telling Ella, but decided