The passage was wide but the roof was low and it grew lower as we ran along the tunnel.
‘Head down,’ breathed the Siltman.
I leaned forward, pressing my head against the dog’s neck as the pack rose and fell around me like a grey sea. The dogs were running like they would never stop. They raced around a bend, and then the ceiling arched above us and I could sit up again.
‘Hold!’
The pack slowed and came to a halt, and the only sound was panting. It was cold in the tunnel and I could see the white breath of the dogs curling from their mouths like question marks. They looked to the Siltman, waiting for a command. He slipped to the ground.
‘Stay,’ he said, and I didn’t know if he was talking to me or the dog I was on. He looked over the pack, then he moved among the dogs, patting each one, running his hands over their backs and down their legs, checking their paws, feeling their ears and necks and noses.
‘Flank!’ he called.
One of the dogs came to him, pushing its way through the others.
‘Grey!’ The Siltman whistled. ‘Fathom!’
Two more dogs followed.
‘Drop.’
Except for the three he had called, all the dogs lay down, including the one I was riding. They were focused on the Siltman, waiting for instruction.
I looked back up the tunnel. I could have slid to the ground and run, but my body was frozen in shock. And how far would I get?
‘Change.’ The Siltman pointed to one of the standing dogs. ‘You will ride Fathom.’
The dog pricked its ears at the sound of its name and stepped forward, and then I felt the Siltman’s hands on my ribs as he picked me up and threw me onto the dog’s back. When he let go I could still feel the prints of his fingers burning into my sides, not hot but freezing cold.
‘Grey. Flank. Stay by!’ He flicked his hand and the dogs took their places, one on either side of me.
‘Away!’ commanded the Siltman and the pack was up and running again. This time the Siltman didn’t ride. He ran beside one of the dogs with his hand on its shoulder, and he ran like the wind, not like an old man with bony legs.
There were very few lamps in this tunnel. Long stretches of darkness followed short spaces of light. And then there were no more passage lamps at all. The dogs ran freely in the dark, as if they knew where they were going.
‘Ease,’ cried the Siltman.
The dogs slowed to a steady pace.
‘You have nothing to fear,’ came his whispery voice. ‘You will stay with me and help me with my work. You will sift silt at the river mouth in winter, and in summer you will travel with me to the far north.’
He groomed the dog beside him as he spoke, raking his fingers through its long grey hair. ‘When you return, your footprints and those of your dogs will appear on the beach three weeks before you do.’
‘No!’ I cried. ‘I don’t want to go.’
‘You’re the storyteller,’ the Siltman said. ‘But let me tell you a story. Once, long ago, there lived a young woman called Eadie. She was perhaps a bit older than you, and she was learning the art of healing. In order to protect herself from all the dangerous illnesses she would be called upon to cure, she came to me for advice.’
‘No! I don’t want to hear your story.’
The Siltman took no notice of me.
‘I told her there was only one way of keeping safe. I could remove her spirit from her body and hide it away, in my land of the Ever, so she would always be protected.’
‘You’re telling the wrong story,’ I cried. ‘Your story is the one about a warrior called Pike.’
‘There are many stories,’ the Siltman replied. ‘I told Eadie she would never catch a disease. She would never be injured. She would never grow old. And that is what happened. For long years she wandered the world, curing the sick and injured. Nothing could harm her. She was immune. But there was a price, and that price was a child . . .’
‘It’s not true,’ I said. ‘I don’t believe it! You’re telling lies.’
‘The Siltman never lies,’ he replied. ‘When I demanded payment, Eadie fled to the safety of the marshes and she remained there for a very long time. Until you arrived.’
One of the dogs howled and another answered, then the pack was running again.
I closed my eyes and tried to keep hold of my thoughts. The wind roared past. I felt as though my life was a very small thing that was streaming out behind me. I called out to Marlie and to Mother Moss and Wim. Then I called to the stranger and to Amos Last, and to the sleek and Bella and Bright. No one could hear me, but if I could hold onto my friends I would have something. Their names disappeared behind me, though, and soon there was nothing in my mind except the howling of the dogs and the huge hollow made by the knowledge that Eadie had betrayed me.