“Help’s come … told you.” The shout was muffled. So faint, that voice. So far away. “Breathe, Ista…”
A wail rose from below. Spirits, was a child down there?
“Hush,” called Neri. “We’ll get you.”
Placidio tightened his grip on the rope. The taut line jittered, once. Then again.
“A signal?” I said.
“He was to let us know when he reached the bottom of the ladder,” said Dumond, joining me beside the hole. “His rope is longer, so he wants the swordmaster to lower him. We just hope it’s not too far.”
Placidio slowly released the rope. When only a few coils remained, the taut line relaxed.
“He’s down,” said Dumond. “A gap of almost his height from the bottom of the ladder to wherever his feet are now—the shed roof, we think. Manageable, if there’s someone in shape to give folk a boost. Placidio told Neri he was not to unrope.”
Placidio took up the slack and glanced over at me. “Won’t let him get away.”
“I’m right on top of you,” Neri called. “There’s wood here. Gonna kick at this spot. Look for the light. We’ve got rope and ladder, but only a narrow way out. Doubt you want to dawdle…”
Neri’s light wavered and it sounded as if he were tearing down a wall, as I suppose he was. Or perhaps it was the desperate people below, knocking a hole in their shelter. There were no screams or fits, only a low surge of voices as wood cracked and tore.
“Whoa! Leave the leftmost rafter,” Neri shouted. “That’s where I’m standing and where you’ll need to stand. That’s it, lift her up.” A pause, and then he called upward, “One on the way!”
Dumond glanced at me. “You know what you’ll need to do once they’re up.”
“Certain…”
Throughout childhood and my years with il Padroné, I had believed my only magical talent was the ability to touch another person’s flesh and tell a story to replace a memory in that person’s head. My parents had first noticed it when my father could no longer recall the hero tales he’d told me, because I’d given him a story more to my liking while sitting in his lap. It was an awful realization, to know I had stolen a piece of another person’s life, leaving them with broken connections, confusion, and a new memory that seemed entirely real, yet was somehow wrong. Even though I had discovered that it was only a stunted offshoot of my gift for magical impersonation, there were times when it became necessary, invaluable. I was careful, and replaced the smallest bit I could—less damaging and easier to accomplish.
“… but I can’t do it to a child,” I said. “To a mind not yet grown, it’s too much of a risk. I won’t. But the others, yes.”
“I’ll not argue,” said Dumond, “but give the little ones a different story to hang on to, at the least.”
The smith turned his attention back to the rope ladder. “Be still; be still,” he murmured when the rope ladder began to sway and twist, causing its support beam to tug at the wire-and-stake anchors. “Neri’s supposed to tell them not to kick or grab at the sides of the shaft. I just don’t know what that would do.…”
Magic had opened the passage, but how long would it stay open if someone repeatedly broke the barrier between magic and the shifty earth? Would the hillside collapse?
Though it seemed an eternity, at last a small head sporting multiple dirt-colored braids appeared just below the edge of the trapdoor.
“Reach up and grab my hand.” Dumond lay prostrate on the square wood door, stretching both hands forward.
“Mustn’t let go.” The small voice held back sobs.
“C’mon. Reach. You know, I’ve got a girl your age. Seven years, are you? Eight?”
“Six, but tall fer it.”
“Good. Take one more step up and lean toward me, then let go only one hand and reach. Tall girl like you, strong girl, won’t let go till I’ve got you. Brave girl like you won’t stay there holding and block the others from safety. I’ll hold you. My girls like to adventure … to climb…”
Dumond was a gruff, pragmatic man who rarely smiled. But I’d seen him with his girls, and none of the rest of us would have had the patience to coax that child to let go of the ladder and reach for a stranger.
“That’s it,” he said. “Scooch a little more. What’s your name?”
When she let go of the rope at last and grabbed his hand, no god in any universe could have made him let go. After a moment of scrambling, she was in his arms. A small child, dirty and bedraggled. He couldn’t hold her long, though, as another child’s head came into view.
“’Bout time you got to movin’, Ista!” Another child’s voice sirened like a trumpet. “My turn to get outta this bunghole. Don’t wanna crawl into yours!”
Dumond shoved the little one to me and stretched out for the new arrival. “One more step on the ladder, girl, then let go one hand, lean this way, and reach for me. Your legs’ll know what to do … and a bit of kindness wouldn’t be amiss.”
“Shh,” I said, patting the first child’s shaking back. Great silent sobs racked her. “But it’s good to be quiet, so we can hear the others. How many, child? How many are down there?”
She jerked her shoulders.
“Is your da one of them?”
Her grimy braids bobbed, and I felt a moan that seemed likely to break into a screech.
Though I crushed her to my breast, she bent no more than a stick. “We’ll try our best to get everyone up, but we must be quiet and still. So good to have a tunnel to crawl through, yes?”
I had to give them a plausible story. A hole from the top of the avalanche was not possible without magic.
“Masks,” said Placidio, still in position, gripping Neri’s lifeline. “Older ones’ll remember.”
I tied on the scarf mask. The second girl—a year or two older than the first—knew exactly what to do. As she scrambled out of the hole, she broke into a grin.
“Dandy!” she said and poked the littler one. “See, Ista. Told you some’d come. No demons down there to keep ’em off.” She turned her face up to us. “I’m Tacci, bricklayer’s daughter.”
“How many?” I said. “How many down there?”
“Sixteen? Twenty-ought? Summat like. I get lost past a dozen. Some’re hurt bad. Two’s dead for sure.”
“Can you hold Ista?” I said. “We need you to stay still. Don’t want dirt or rocks blocking the crawl. Clever to have a ladder to pull yourself along the way, right?”
Cheerful Tacci lost her smile. “Clever, aye. Why do you folk have masks on?”
“The dust,” I said. “Makes us sick, breathing it for these hours. We need to get more out, then we’ll take you down and you can go home. You’re safe.”
A longer lag between. No question why, once the young man collapsed atop Dumond. Dazed and bleeding. Half his face a ruin. He couldn’t even crawl. As I helped him away from the hole, his right arm had a death grip on his left. A shard of bone protruded between his dirty fingers. It was all he could do not to scream. How he had climbed that rope ladder was a mystery.