Toll the Hounds

Pity these ones? Nay, never, never so long as they drive on hordes of children into grisly labour, then sup languid of air upon the myriad rewards.

Dare this round self descend into hard judgement? This round self does dare! A world built of a handful of sticks can start tears in the eyes, as the artist on hands and knees sings a score of wordless songs, speaks in a hundred voices, and moves unseen figures across the vast panorama of the mind’s canvas (pausing but once to wipe nose on sleeve). He does so dare this! And would hasten the demise of such cruel abuse.

Even a serpent has grandiose designs, yet must slither in minute increments, struggling for distances a giant or god would scorn. Tongue flicking for the scent, this way and that. Salvation is the succulent fruit at hunt’s end, the sun-warmed bird’s egg, the soft cuddly rat trapped in the jaws.

So searches the serpent, friend to the righteous. So slides the eel through the world’s stirred muck, whiskers a-probing. Soon, one hopes, soon!

Young Harllo was not thinking of justice, nor of righteous freedom, nor was he idly fashioning glittering worlds from the glistening veins of raw iron, or the flecks of gold in the midst of cold, sharp quartzite. He had no time to kneel in some over-grown city garden building tiny forts and reed bridges over run-off tracks left by yesterday’s downpour. No, for Harllo childhood was over. Aged six.

At this moment, then, he was lying on a shelf of hard, black stone, devoured by darkness. He could barely hear the workers far above, although rocks bouncedtheir way clown the crevasse every now and then, echoing with harsh harks from the floor far below.

The last time here he had dangled from a rope, and there had been no careless ram of stones-any one of which could crush his skull. And on his descent hack then, his outstretched arms had encountered no walls, leading him to believe the crevasse was vast, opening out perhaps into a cavern. This time, of course, there was no rope-Harllo should not even be here and would probably be switched once he was found out.

Bainisk had sent him back to Chuffs at shift’s end. And that was where he ought now to be, hurriedly devouring his bowl of watery soup and husk of black bread, before stumbling off to his cot. Instead, he was climbing down this wall, without light to ensure that he would not be discovered by those working above.

Not a cavern after all. Instead, a pocked, sheer cliff-face-and those gaping holes were all oddly regular, rectangular, although not until Harllo reached this balcony ledge did he comprehend that he was climbing down the face of some buried building. He wanted to slip into one of these windows and explore, but he had promised to deliver splints to the Bone Miner below, and that was what he would do.

Careful questioning had led him to a definition of “splints”, but he could not find sticks suitable for the purpose of fixing the Miner’s shattered legs. Either too feeble and small, or not straight enough; and besides, all the wood brought to the camp was too well guarded. Instead, he had gone to the tailings heaps, where all ma

Often, and especially from the run-off tu

Out on the heaps he found two that seemed to have been from the same kind of beast. After some examination and comparison, he confirmed that he had a right one and a left one. They were heavy, thick and ridged, and he hoped they would do.

Between shifts at the main tu

Those long leg bones were strapped to his back. His neck and shoulders wereraw from the ropes and more than once he had thought the swinging of the heavy hones would tug him away from the wall, but he had held on, this far at least. Ami now, lying on this balcony ledge, Harllo rested.

If someone went looking for him and didn’t find him, an alarm would be raised. Always two possibilities when someone went missing. Flight, or lost in the tu

Groaning, he slipped over the edge, cautious with his handholds, and resumed his journey down.

And, not two man-heights down from the balcony, his groping feet found another ledge, followed immediately by another-a staircase, angling steeply down the wall. One hand maintaining contact with the seamless stone, Harllo worked his way down, step by step.

He did not recall noticing any of this his first time down here. Of course, the candlelight had been feeble-which made easier catching the glitter of gold and the like-and he had gone straight back to the rope. And hadn’t his mind been awhirl? A talking Imass! Down here for maybe hundreds of years-with no one to talk to and nothing to look at, oh, how miserable that must have been.

So. He should not be resenting doing all this for the Bone Miner. A few switches to the back wasn’t much to pay for this mercy.

He reached the floor and paused. So dark! ‘Hello? It’s me! Dev’ad Anan Tol, can you hear me?’

‘I can. Follow, then, the sound of my voice. If such a.thing is possible-’

‘It is… I think. Scratch the rock you’re sitting on-I’ll feel that under my feet-’

‘That,’ said the Imass, ’is an impressive talent.’

‘I’m good when I can’t see. Vibrations, it’s called.’

‘Yes. Can you feel this then?’

‘I’m getting closer, yes. I think I can start a lantern here. Shuttered so it won’t spread out.’ He crouched down, the ends of the long bones thunking behind him, and untied the small tin lantern from his belt. ‘This one’s called a pusher. You can fix it on to a pole and push it ahead. If the wick dims fast then you know it’s bad air. Wait.’ A moment later and soft golden light slanted like a path, straight to where sat the Bone Miner. Harllo gri

‘What is it that you carry, cub?’

‘Your splints. And rope and string.’

‘Let me see those… bones. Yes, give them to me-’ And he reached out skeletal hands to grasp the splints as soon as Harllo came close enough. A low grating gasp from the Imass, then soft muttering. ‘By the Shore of Jaghra Til, I had not thought to see… cub, my tools… for this. The gift is not in balance.’’I can try to find some better ones-’

‘No, child. The imbalance is the other way, These are emlava, a male, his hind long bones. True, they twist and cant. Still… yes… possible.’