The Pearl of the Soul of the World - By Meredith Ann Pierce Page 0,1

her companions hastily caught up his pick.

"Reckon it's dangerous, Maruha?" the boy asked. The woman shook her head. "Can't say, Brandl.

An upperlander-from-under-the-sky, by the look, if I remember my learning."

She cocked her head and studied the girl. The upperlander stared back, wide-eyed, afraid to move.

The squat little woman's eyes were the color of dark grey stones.

"But what's it doing so far underground?" the young one, Brandl, asked.

"Witch's work," the older man murmured, stroking his beard. "Could be the Witch's work."

"Bite your tongue, Collum, you fool." Maruha turned on him. "None of hers could ever get down here. We've wards."

"That one got through," the bearded one answered. "Perhaps only the first of many. We've known for a long time the end must come."

"Enough," hissed Maruha with a glance at Brandl. "You'll frighten the boy."

The pale girl watched them, her heart banging painfully against her ribs. She had seen such a creature once before. A little man with stone-grey eyes. The fragment of memory needled her, merciless, then vanished. The woman took a step toward her.

"You, upperlander, who are you?" she called.

The other flinched. She wanted to answer, but her throat tightened till she could hardly breathe. "Uh, uhn…" she managed, choking. A thin wail threaded past her lips. Her head pounded. She stopped, whimpering.

"Can't speak," bearded Collum breathed. "Witch's work."

"Look how thin," Brandl said, bolder now. He pointed, taking a step closer to Maruha. "Cheeks all sunken in."

Collum snorted. "All the upperlanders look that way: spindly as spiders."

"Nonsense!" Maruha exclaimed. "She's done in. Look at her hair and the dirt on her face." She came a few paces closer. "Girl, can you understand me?"

The upperlander tensed, ready to run—but she didn't want to leave the water. A kind of shriek issued from her lips. She understood, but she could not answer.

"Aye, but look at her robe," Brandl whispered, fear sharpening his voice suddenly. "Fine yellow stuff and not a rip or a smudge. It shines, almost. Like ghostcloth."

His companions started, and the three of them drew back. The pale girl's knees gave. She sank down, unable to go another step. Collum gripped his pick and pushed past Maruha and Brandl.

"She's the "Witch's work, I tell you, and the sooner done with the better."

"No!" Maruha cried, catching Collum's arm. "She was drinking from the stream. None that serve the Witch can abide clean water's touch—"

Collum hesitated, lowering his arm. He glanced at Maruha.

"Marvels, I grant you, as yet unexplained—and her coming here may indeed be Witch's work,"

Maruha insisted. "But I do not believe that she is Witch's work, or that she means us any harm."

The girl sat in the sand, not looking at them. She no longer had the strength to lift her head. She heard Brandl edging closer to the other two.

"There's blood in her hair," he whispered. "Look."

"You see?" snapped Maruha, giving Collum a shake. "That is why she cannot speak." She took his pick from him roughly and thrust it into her own belt. Turning from him, she softened her voice. "Here, girl. You're hurt." Moving closer, she continued, "We are duaroughs, child. Let us help you."

The pale girl felt the little woman parting the hair just behind her ear and started. She batted at the square, nubby hands feebly, once. Gendy, the duarough's touch returned.

"You needn't fear us. Sooth! What's this? Collum, Brandl, look. There's something here, behind her ear-jabbed in through the very bone."

All three crowded around her then. She did not look up. She gazed at the sand, at the warm, fragrant water lying beyond her reach now. She longed for it.

"Sweet Ravenna!" the young one, Brandl, exclaimed. "It's a silver pin."

"All mucked with blood." That was Maruha.

"Witchery," muttered Collum.

"I can't quite…" Maruha began.

The girl felt a shooting pain behind her ear and screamed. With a gasp, the duarough woman jerked her hand away as the upperlander pitched to the sand, covering her head with her arms, shrieking. They mustn't touch it! No one must touch it. She herself must never so much as lay a finger on the beautiful and terrible silver pin. Maruha sat down upon the sand, cradling her hand.

"Lons and Ancientlady!" she panted, flexing her fingers and then shaking her hand. "But that thing is Witch's work, and no mistake. It's cold, colder than shadow."

"It hasn't harmed you?" Brandl said anxiously.

"No, I only brushed it—lucky! Sooth, we must take this child back to the others when we finish our circuit—"

"Fie, no!" Collum protested. "If she's Witched, she mustn't come within leagues of