The Dark City by Catherine Fisher Page A

that emits light. That can kill.”
    Carys tried not to stare. She leaned back in the soft comfort of the chair, hoping he’d say more about it, but Lerin didn’t seem very surprised. “And he says he’ll give it back in return for the Sekoi?”
    Galen shrugged. “So he says. I doubt it.”
    “Then why bother looking for the creature at all!” She came and sat on the bench opposite him, her long red skirt trailing in the soot. “Keeper, you can trust me. Tell me your real reason. No one goes to the Wounded City for nothing.”
    For a long moment he looked at her.
    “I think you should,” Raffi blurted out.
    “No one asked you, boy.”
    “They never do. But I’m the one who’ll have to go with you!”
    Galen was silent. Then he looked over. “Carys. This is not for you to hear. Wait outside.”
    She glared. “I’m going to Tasceron too!”
    “For your own reasons. This doesn’t concern you.”
    She shrugged, and looked at Lerin. “It’s a bit wet to wait outside.”
    The tall woman nodded. “Go in the other room. My mother is there.”
    Reluctantly Carys got up. As she crossed the room and turned to close the door, Raffi had a glimpse of her face. To his astonishment, just for a moment, he saw that she was furious.
    When the door closed, Lerin leaned forward. “Now,” she said. “What happened to you?”
    Galen was silent; when he spoke his voice was strained. “Ten months ago the boy and I were called to a settlement in the forest, well east of here. They had come across a relic, a huge, strange thing, and had kept it hidden from the Watch. When I saw it, I was astonished. It was tall, tubular, and had once stood upright in the ground. Now it lay fallen. A great rusted mass.
    “I knew at once that power was still in it and that it was dangerous. After the Makers had gone, many of their devices ran out of control. This one was evil. I told the boy to move the people away. I opened my mind to it, saw it, all the colors and lights about it, all the threads of power. Then I came closer. Carefully, I touched it.”
    He sat back and laughed bleakly. “That’s all I remember.”
    She glanced at Raffi, wide-eyed.
    “It exploded,” he said quietly. “The noise! It was incredible. The forest burned; the villagers fled, most of them. I ran back, though my nose and ears were bleeding. Galen was lying there. For a moment I thought he was dead . . .”
    “I was dead.” Galen’s voice was harsh. “I still am. It’s gone, keeper, all of it. I have only two eyes like other men, and see nothing more than they do. When the wind blows in the trees I hear only the wind. Nothing more. The traces of the Makers are lost. My mind is a great silence.”
    “Nothing?”
    “No bird-speech, no earth-lines, none of the world’s million voices. No mind-speech. No dreams.”
    She watched him closely, full of horror; Raffi could feel it seeping from her like a musky scent. “How do you survive?” she whispered.
    “Prayer,” he said bleakly. “And whatever the boy can do.”
    She was silent, plaiting the folds of her red skirt with her fingers. “And you think in Tasceron there might be someone left to help you?”
    “More than that.” He glanced at the door. “Where are the Watch?”
    “Saddling up. They don’t suspect anything. They don’t know everyone here, and these two are too old for their Watchhouses.” She pulled a face. “I hope they’ll have forgotten you by next time.”
    Galen nodded. He shuffled a little closer, the flames edging his face with shadow. “Twice,” he said quietly, “we’ve had word of something very strange. Both messages were the same—that the Crow is alive, and in the city.”
    “The Crow! Impossible!”
    His face darkened with anger. “Don’t call me a liar! Marcus Torna couldn’t have taught you that.”
    “I’m sorry.” Lerin shook her head ruefully. “I’m sorry, keeper, I was wrong. Nothing is impossible to God. But the Crow! I thought . . . nothing of the