Mervyn looked down from a wooded escarpment. Below him sprawled a fine country house in which, according to Loren’s information, Aurora and Tarun were imprisoned. It had taken a week to find the house, and a further week to persuade the guards to cut props from these particulars trees.
The days had settled into a relentless routine: one day collecting wood, the next cutting the trunks to size, and the next two propping up tunnels. In the mines Mervyn and Loren now shared a blunt hand-axe to cut props to shape, though this required twice as many guards. Without sharp cutting equipment the peg making scam failed from the outset. Instead, the children twined rope from reeds and grasses. It was of no concern to Mervyn if they rarely used the rope -- the business served to keep the youngsters in the relative safety of the compound.
Rose took to following Mervyn around wherever he went. She would sit with him and Loren in the evenings, as they worked out the next day’s tasks, and even shared their meal table. Loren reckoned Rose hero-worshipped Mervyn. He denied it, but Rose proved to be bright and resourceful, and he soon found himself becoming attached to the girl -- she reminded him of him of Saffi, his younger sister. He repressed the thought immediately, thinking of his family, on Zetalona, lead only to depression and ruin. To survive he needed to stay positive; ‘Never give up hope,’ he reminded himself. Soon Rose was running errands and passing messages. She flitted round the compound like a bird, but the Velcats, perhaps beguiled by her smallness, ignored her. The mother and son, though, kept their distance.
The fresh air felt good. Up here on the ridge the firm soil held the Ureg trees routed to the spot. The large fleshy-leafed trees looked like giant purple seedlings, but their trunks stood strong and straight -- excellent for pit props. The Uregs constantly swayed and creaked as they jostled for the best light. On their first foraging expedition, in the valley, Mervyn was shocked to see the trees shuffling away through the swampy ground as if alive. Somehow they sensed his intent: every time one of his team produced an axe it started a slow-motion stampede. The trees hauled up their roots and dragged themselves ponderously through the slimy mud flapping their giant leaves like wings. The crew returned covered in mud with little to show for a day’s exertion -- cutting down a moving tree, even one moving in slow-motion, proved too difficult. On the ridge here the trees hardly moved at all.
Mervyn looked round the clearing scattered with felled trees. On foraging trips, while surrounded by armed guards, half the team wielded sharp tree felling axes. The main work-party cut the logs roughly to size and loaded them onto a wagon. The guards almost outnumbered the slaves, mostly Rinhus’ with a smattering of Velcats. There was a hierarchy: humans held overall command, Rinhus, slow and lumbering, stayed in the open air and supervised the Velcats at the bottom of the stack. Though wily and cunning, Velcats lacked intelligence and any pretence at working together. Their constant bickering and sniping make it easy for Mervyn to play them off one against another. Far more dangerous were the Rinhus whose beady eyes missed nothing.
Mervyn bent to select another log as a Rinhus approached, ‘Where’s the runt?’. It had not taken them long to note Rose’s absence.
‘Down the other slope collecting grasses for rope,’ he said waving an arm vaguely. The Rinhus bustled off in the direction indicated, but a couple of logs later it became more persistent, ‘We can’t find her, where is she?’
‘She won’t wonder far. Human kids never stray far from their mothers,’ Mervyn assured it. ‘She’ll be back.’ The Rinhus spied Rose’s mother and relaxed, but the damage was done: the other guards grew nervous, infected by the Rinhus’ unease. They glance about as if expecting an assault to erupt from the undergrowth. Soon a search party started combing the far slope looking for the missing girl.
Mervyn needed to distract them quickly before they caught Rose returning from her mission, ‘Ok guys, time to get this cart moving,’ he yelled. ‘We can come back for the rest of the wood in a few days. Let’s get those axes away.’ The woodcutters immediately converged on the cart. So many armed slaves in one spot always made the guards tense. They abandoned their search for Rose and readied their blast riffles -- just in case.
Mervyn collected in the axes. Once stowed in the security box the slaves would stand back while the chief guard locked the tools away. Today, Mervyn fussed over getting the axes clean and laid in neat rows. He drew the moment out as long as he dared, but Rose’s mother interrupted him.
‘Have you seen Rose? I haven’t seen her for a while. I don’t want her left behind.’ Mervyn stashed another axe in the box. He tried to think of a suitable reply. She never complained when he sent her daughter off on errands even though she disapproved -- the look on her face said as much. As if on cue, Rose emerged from behind a bush dragging a bundle of reeds. Mervyn breathed a sigh of relief, shut the toolbox, and stepped back. With the box safely locked, the guards ordered the work party to take up the yoke and start the cart moving on its downward journey.
Later that evening Rose reported on her finds at the country house, ‘There are prisoners in rooms behind bars,’ she said.
‘Did you speak to them?’ Mervyn asked eagerly.
Rose gave him a derisive look, ‘Of course. There is a boy called Tarun and a girl called Aurora.’ Mervyn and Loren glanced at each other then questioned Rose on the layout of the house and which rooms confined each of the prisoners.