Nation - Пратчетт Терри Дэвид Джон - Страница 46

He called the others down and hacked at the stone again, amazed at how easily he could crack it with the metal bar, opening up a gap into blackness. It was damp; he could hear a soft lapping of water in the dark. By the light of the lamp he could just make out some white steps, leading down.

So that was it? All this way for some sea cave? There were a lot of them at the bottom of the cliffs on the western side of the island. Kids had explored them since time began, and had never found anything to get excited about.

But the lamplight glinted on something in the dark.

“I’m going to come in with you,” said Daphne behind him.

“No. Stay here. It might be dangerous.”

“Yes, and that’s why I ought to go in with you.”

“It’s been shut up since forever! What’s going to hurt me?”

“What? You were the one who said it might be dangerous!” Daphne said.

“I will enter first,” said Ataba behind her. “If Locaha is in there, I will take his hand.”

“I’m not going to wait out here with all these dead men crackling at me!” Daphne protested. “Yes, I know it’s just the vines but that really doesn’t help.”

The three of them looked at one another in the lamplight and then, as one, tried to get through the narrow gap into a space full of bad air. It tasted rotten, if air could rot.

The steps beyond were god stones, every one. They had carvings on them, just like the ones on the beach, but many of the carvings went across several stones. Here and there, stones were cracked or missing.

Lumps of stone, thought Mau. Why did we think they were worthy things to worship? He held the lamp higher and saw the reason.

Ahead of him, knee-deep in the water, gigantic and gleaming white and sparkling all over, were the gods — the huge-stomached Air with his four sons on his shoulders, the brilliant Water, the ferocious Fire, with his hands bound to his side just as the story said. Air and Water each held a big stone globe in their hands, but Fire’s globe was balanced on his head and had a red glitter to it. There was a fourth statue, pale and smashed, with no head and one arm fallen down into the water. For a moment Mau thought: That’s Imo. Broken. Would I dare to find His face?

Ataba screamed (and outside in the tunnel a dead man moved slightly). “Do you see them? Do you see them?” the priest managed, in between great gasps of sour air. “Behold the gods, demon boy!” He bent double with a fit of coughing. It definitely was not good air; you sucked it down, but there was no life in it.

“Yes, I see them,” said Mau. “Gods of stone, Ataba.”

“Why should they be of flesh? And what stone shines like that? I am right, demon boy, in my faith I am right! You can’t deny it!”

“I can’t deny what I see, but I can question what it is,” said Mau as the old man wheezed again.

Mau looked across the darkness, to the glow of light that was Daphne’s lantern.

“Let’s get back right now!” he shouted. “Come on! Even the flames are choking!”

“Those are just statues!” Daphne called back. “But this… this is amazing!”

There was the grinding noise of stone moving from somewhere near her.

Ataba was wheezing horribly. It sounded as though every breath was being sawn out of a tree.

Mau looked at the flickering flame of his lantern and yelled, “We must get back!”

“And there’s a skeleton here!” Daphne called out. “And he’s got — I don’t believe this. Oh, you must see this! You must see what he’s got in his mouth!”

“Do you want to run back up the tunnel in the dark?” he shouted as loudly as he could (and outside in the corridor, a Grandfather shifted).

That seemed to do it. He saw her lamp begin to move toward the door. She was panting when she reached him, and the light was a dark orange.

“You know, I thought all this could be Greek,” she said, “or Egyptian! That we trousermen… well, togamen, I suppose — ”

“So we even begged our gods from your people, too?” snapped Mau, putting an arm around the priest’s shoulders.

“What? No! It’s more — ”

Mau pulled her after him through the narrow gap. “No more talking!” he said. “Now, come on!”

The on! echoed up and down the corridor. The ancient and oldest Grandfather beside Mau fell over backward with a little click, and then crumbled into powder and strips of dry papervine, but not before it had tipped over the one behind it….

They watched in horror as the line of toppling, crumbling Grandfathers overtook the lamplight, filling the air with cloying, acrid dust.

They looked at one another and made an immediate and group decision.

“Run!”

Dragging the stumbling old man between them, they dashed up the gentle slope. The dust stung their eyes and clawed at their throats, but around the fortieth collapsing skeleton they overtook the cascading bones. They didn’t bother to stop; the dust behind them was almost a solid, billowing mass, as keen to escape as they were. And they ran on, into better air, until the noise died away.

Daphne was surprised when Mau slowed down, but he pointed to the white stone that stuck out of the wall, with the hunched Grandfather on it.

“We can rest for a moment,” he said. “That one’s too high to be pushed over.”

He propped up Ataba, whose breathing almost rattled. But the priest was smiling, even so.

“I saw the gods,” he panted, “and you did, too, Mau.”

“Thank you,” said Mau.

Ataba looked puzzled. “For what?”

“Not calling me demon boy.”

“Ah, I can be generous in victory.”

“They were made of stone,” said Mau.

“Magic stone! The milk of the world! Have you ever seen so much of it? What human hand could carve it? What mind could imagine them? They are a sign. In the heart of darkness, I have found illumination! I was right!”

“They were stone,” said Mau patiently. “Did you not see the slabs on the floor? There are your god stones! They were made to tread on! They fell into the sea, and you think they are holy!”

“A man in darkness may be misled, it’s true. But in the stones we saw a hint of the truth. The gods made you their tool, boy. You scorned them and spurned them, but the faster you ran from them, the closer you came to them. You — ”

“We ought to move,” said Daphne to a distant background of crashing bones. “Even if they can’t get closer, that dust can. Move, I said!”

They obeyed, as wise men do when a woman puts her foot down, and went on along the tunnel at the best speed that Ataba could hobble.

But Daphne hesitated. The crashing tide of Grandfathers was nearly at the stone and, yes, it should be able to stop them, but Mau had sounded too confident, which to her mind meant that even he was not all that certain. He didn’t need to stop, but Ataba was suffering. He actually cares about the old man, she thought. A demon wouldn’t —

Crash… The tumbling bones hit the stone and stopped.

At least, all but one did.

It was probably a rib, she thought later. It sprang out of the mess and into the air like a salmon, and hit the skull of the Grandfather who was perched on the stone; he rocked backward and fell onto the skeleton on the other side of the stone, which fell over.

And that was it, like a trick with dominoes. Crash, crash, crash… the floor was more level here, and the bones rolled faster. Why hadn’t she been expecting something like this? The Grandfathers had been stuck in this moldy cave forever. They wanted to get out!

She ran after the men, before the dust rose. She’d heard that when you took a breath, you breathed in a tiny, tiny amount of everyone who had ever lived, but, she decided, there was no need to do it all at once.

“Run again!” she yelled.

They were already turning to look. Daphne grabbed the old man’s other arm and used him to tow Mau until they had got all six legs sorted out.

The entrance was a little white dot again, a long way off, and after only a few steps Ataba was groaning.