‘I hope I didn’t hit him too hard,’ she said.
‘Who cares? Come on, I can give you all a hand up,’ said Tonker.
‘Igorina, could you have a look at him, and—’ Shufti began nervously.
‘He’s a man, and he’s groaning,’ said Tonker from above. ‘That’s good enough for me. Come on.’
The lone guard watched as the others were womanhandled on to the beams.
‘Er, excuse me,’he said to Polly, as she helped Blouse up.
‘Yes? What?’
‘Would you mind giving me a wallop on the back of the head?’ he said, looking wretched. ‘Only it looks like I didn’t put up a fight against a bunch of women.’
‘Why don’t you put up a fight?’ said Polly, narrowing her eyes. ‘We’re only a bunch of women.’
‘I’m not crazy!’ said the guard.
‘Here, let me,’ said Igorina, producing her stick. ‘Blows to the head are potentially harmful and should not be undertaken lightly. Turn round, sir. Remove your helmet, please. Would twenty minutes’ unconsciousness be okay?’
‘Yes, thanks very mu—’
The guard folded up.
‘I really hope I didn’t hurt the other one,’ moaned Shufti, from above.
‘He’s swearing,’ said Polly, removing his sword. ‘That sounds like he’s okay.’
She handed up the candles, and then was hauled on to the trembling roof of the elevator. When she had a firm footing in the mouth of the tunnel she found a sliver of stone and stamped it hard into the space between the shaft wall and the wooden frame, which shook. It wasn’t going anywhere for a while.
Tonker and Lofty were already investigating the tunnel. By candlelight, it looked like good masonry beyond the clumsy attempt at walling it up.
‘It must be cellars,’ said Tonker. ‘I reckon they must’ve made the shaft not long ago and just walled up where it cut through. Could have done a better job, too.’
‘Cellars are close to dungeons,’ said Polly. ‘Now, pinch out one candle, because that way we’ll have light for twice as long, and then—’
‘Perks, a word please?’ said Blouse. ‘Over here?’
‘Yessir.’
When they were standing a little apart from the rest of the squad, Blouse lowered his voice and said: ‘I don’t wish to discourage initiative, Perks, but what are you doing?’
‘Er . . . anticipating your orders, sir.’
‘Anticipating them?’
‘Yessir.’
‘Ah. Right. This is still small-picture stuff, is it?’
‘Exactly, sir.’
‘Then ray orders, Perks, are to proceed with speed and caution to release the prisoners.’
‘Well done, sir. We’ll go through this . . . this—’
‘Crypt,’ said Igorina, looking round.
The candle blew out. Somewhere ahead of them, in darkness absolute and velvet thick, stone moved on stone.
‘I wonder why this passage was sealed up?’ said the voice of Blouse.
‘I think I’ve stopped wondering why it was sealed up in such a hurry,’ said Tonker.
‘I wonder who tried to open it?’ said Polly.
There was a crash of, as it might be, a heavy slab falling off an ornate tomb. It could have been half a dozen other things but, somehow, that was the image that sprang to rnind. The dead air moved a little.
‘I don’t want to worry anyone,’ said Shufti, ‘but I can hear the sound of sort of feet, sort of dragging.’
Polly remembered the man lighting the candles. He’d dropped the bundle of matches into the brass saucer of the candlestick, hadn’t he? Moving her hand slowly, she groped for them.
‘If you didn’t want to worry anyone,’ came the voice of Tonker from the dry, thick darkness, ‘why the hell did you just tell us that?’
Polly’s fingers found a sliver of wood. She raised it to her nose, and sniffed the sulphurous smell.
‘I’ve got one match,’ she said. ‘I’m going to try to light the candle again. Everyone look for a way out. Ready?’
She sidled to the invisible wall. Then she scratched the match down the stone, and yellow light filled the crypt.
Someone whimpered. Polly stared, candle forgotten. The match went out.
‘O-kay,’ said the subdued voice of Tonker. ‘Walking dead people. So?’
‘The one near the archway was the late General Puhloaver!’ said Blouse. ‘I have his book on The Art ofDefence.’
‘Best not to ask him to autograph it, sir,’ said Polly, as the squad bunched together.
There was the whimpering again. It seemed to come from where Polly remembered Wazzer standing. She heard her praying. There were no words that she could make out, just a fierce and urgent whispering.
‘Maybe these washing sticks can slow them down a bit?’ Shufti quavered.
‘More than being dead already?’ said Igorina.
No, a voice whispered, and light filled the crypt.
It was barely brighter than a glow-worm, but single photon can do a lot of work in chthonic darkness. It rose above the kneeling Wazzer until it was woman height, because it was a woman. Or, at least, it was the shadow of a woman. No, Polly saw, it was the light of a woman, a moving web of lines and highlights in which there came and went, like pictures in a fire, a female shape.
‘Soldiers of Borogravia . . . attention!’ said Wazzer. And underneath her reedy little tone was a shadow voice, a whisper that filled and refilled the long room.
Soldiers of Borogravia . . . attention!
Soldiers . . .
Soldiers, attention!
Soldiers of Borogravia . . .
The lurching figures stopped. They hesitated. They shuffled backwards. With a certain amount of clattering and tongueless bickering, they formed two lines. Wazzer stood up.
‘Follow me,’ she said.
Follow me . . .
. . . me . . .
‘Sir?’ said Polly to Blouse.
‘I think we go, don’t you?’ said the lieutenant, who seemed oblivious of Wazzer’s activities now he was in the presence of the military might of the centuries. ‘Oh, god . . . there’s Brigadier Galosh! And Major-general the Lord Kanapay! General Annorac! I’ve read everything he wrote! I never thought I’d see him in the flesh!’
‘Partly flesh, sir,’ said Polly, dragging him forward.
‘Every great commander of the last five hundred years was buried here, Perks!’
‘I’m very pleased for you, sir. If we could just move a little faster . . .’
‘It is my fondest hope that I’ll spend the rest of eternity here, you know.’
‘Wonderful, sir, but not starting today. Can we catch up with the rest of them, sir?’
As they passed, hand after ragged hand was raised in jerky salute. Staring eyes gleamed in hollow faces. The strange light glistened on dusty braid and stained, faded cloth. And there was a noise, harsher than the whispering, deep and guttural. It sounded like the creaking of distant doors, but individual voices rose and fell as the squad passed the dead figures . . .
Death to Zlobenia . . . get them . . . remember . . . give them hell . . . vengeance . . . remember . . . they’re not human . . . avenge us . . . revenge . . .
Up ahead, Wazzer had reached some high wooden doors. They swung open at her touch. The light travelled with her, and the squad were on her heels. To be too far behind was to be in the dark.
‘Couldn’t I just ask Major-general—’ Blouse began, dragging on Polly’s hand.
‘No! You can’t! Don’t dawdle! Come on!’ Polly commanded.
They reached the doors, which Tonker and Igorina slammed behind them. Polly leaned against the wall.
‘I think that was the most . . . most amazing moment of my life,’ said Blouse, as the boom died away.
‘I think this is mine,’ said Polly, fighting for breath.
Light still glowed around Wazzer, who turned to face the squad with an expression of beatific pleasure. ‘You must speak to the High Command,’ she said.
You must speak to the High Command, whispered the walls.
‘Be kind to this child.’
Be kind to this child . . .
. . . this child . . .
Polly caught Wazzer before she hit the ground.
‘What is happening with her?’ said Tonker.
‘I think the Duchess really is speaking through her,’ said Polly. Wazzer was unconscious, only the whites of her eyes showing. Polly laid her down gently.
‘Oh, come on! The Duchess is just a painting! She’s dead!’
Sometimes you give in. For Polly, that time had been the length of time it took to walk through the crypt. If you don’t believe, or don’t want to believe, or if you don’t simply hope that there’s something worth believing in, why turn round? And if you don’t believe, who are you trusting to lead you out of the grip of dead men?
‘Dead?’ she said. ‘So what? What about the old soldiers back there;, who haven’t faded away? What about the light? And you heard how Wazzer’s voice sounded.’
‘Yeah, but . . . well, that sort of thing doesn’t happen to people you know,’ said Tonker. It happens to . . . well, strange religious people. I mean, a few days ago she was learning how to fart loudly!’