Masks by E. C. Blake

Author:E. C. Blake [Blake, E. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group, USA
Published: 2013-11-04T23:00:00+00:00

THIRTEEN

Descent into Darkness

THE ONLY GOOD THING about absolute exhaustion was that, despite everything, Mara fell asleep shortly after the Watcher left the longhouse. She woke to the smell of smoke. Rolling over, she saw a dark figure crouched by the fire pit, urging another small fire to life. She closed her eyes again, but had no time to drift back to sleep before Hayka’s door crashed open, though it wasn’t Hayka who yelled, “Up, slugs. Breakfast in half an hour. Shift change in an hour.”

Mara blinked up at the rough wooden underside of the bunk over her head. It wasn’t until she tried to sit up that she realized just how stiff and sore she was from the previous day’s mule ride, not to mention the long, cold night in the hard little bed. It took all her strength and a lot of teeth-gritting just to swing her legs over the side. She rubbed her hands on her gray trousers, and looked around.

The other girls and women were also getting out of bed, and a line had already formed at the latrine, stretching past her bunk. Mara joined it, and found herself standing next to a girl just a little bit older. The girl looked sideways at her. A pale ghost of a smile flicked briefly over her face. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Katia.”

Mara managed to smile back. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Mara.”

Katia lowered her voice. “Is it true? Someone attacked the wagon? You got out?”

“It’s true,” Mara said. Bitterness crept into her voice as she added, “But I didn’t get out to stay.”

“I’m sorry,” Katia said. She shook her head. “This place is terrible. The mines are—” She fell silent as, from out of nowhere, Hayka appeared, shoving her way through the women who had joined the line behind Mara and Katia.

“Get into the latrine,” Hayka said to Mara, ignoring Katia. “I’m supposed to take you to the Warden before breakfast.”

Heart fluttering, Mara pushed to the head of the line, keeping her head down to avoid the accusing glares. Hayka was waiting for her when she came out and dragged her out of the longhouse by her arm. Skriva, the trustee who had rousted the women out of their bunks, sat at the table eating steaming porridge from a wooden bowl. She glanced up. “You’ll have to chivvy them to the mess hall,” Hayka told her.

Skriva just grunted, and went back to shoveling porridge into her mouth.

Hayka took Mara outside into a cold, cloudy morning, the sky just beginning to gray. A chill wind from the towering mountains to the north swept swirling dust through the camp. Mara shivered and wondered if she’d ever be warm again. Hayka had said she wouldn’t get a coat until after the first snow. Mara looked up at the clouds hopefully, but they remained stubbornly precipitation-free.

Hayka led her up the crushed-rock path toward the big stone house, whose glazed windows glowed with light and from whose many chimneys issued tendrils of smoke, blown sideways and shredded by the wind.

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