Free A Mosaic of Stars: Short Stories From Other Worlds by Andrew Knighton Page A

feet, and I knew that we had hit the water level.
    “It’s done!” I reached the top of the hole and threw my spade down in front of the muqanni.
    “Good.” He point toward a series of poles set every forty yards down the hillside. “Now go start digging the next one. Once I have measured the mother well, I will tell you how deep.”
    Until then I had tried to tend my crops as well as dig, using the dusk hour to look after my farm. But now I saw how much more work there was to do, I surrendered. If I wanted an end to the digging and the deep, dark holes, I must throw my whole self into making the qanat.
    For weeks I dug. The muqanni showed me how to dig each ventilation hole to the right depth, using a measuring stick and a knotted rope. He dealt with the dirt that came out, and with shoring up the holes. At the bottom of the slope we marked out the canal which would carry the water to the fields - my neighbours could at least dig that part - and then began the water channel, heading back into the hill.
    I was amazed to see the results of the muqanni’s skill. With his guidance, the tunnel easily hit the bottom of each hole I had dug. Day by day, my lanterns and I headed deeper into the hillside.
    “Be careful when you reach the mother well,” the muqanni cautioned me one night. “It is deep with water now.”
    But water was life. Water was the gift we sought. And so I paid no attention, but kept driving forward as hard and fast as I could. When I saw water seeping through the dirt ahead of me, I did not hesitate. Instead I cheered and plunged my spade into the soil.
    The earth burst open, water gushing behind it. I staggered back, plunged into darkness as my lamps were washed away. I was thrown from my feet, choking and struggling to reach the air. Even as I burst gasping to the surface, a fresh torrent swept me away again.
    Water filled the tunnel. There was no more air for me to reach up into. I would be dead before I ever reached the end of the tunnel.
    Then I saw a flash of light as we passed beneath a ventilation hole, and hope sprang anew. If I could keep near the ceiling for another thirty yards, another twenty, another ten…
    I burst up into the next hole, and grabbed the side before I could be swept away again. With slow, aching movements I gripped protrusions in the side of the hole, and started dragging myself toward daylight.
    At last I crawled out into fresh air. In the valley below, my neighbours were cheering and waving as water flowed into their dusty fields. Exhausted and half drowned as I was, I felt huge satisfaction at the sight.
    The muqanni stood looking down at me.
    “I should have listened,” I said. “I should have been more careful.”
    “Next time.” The muqanni smiled. “Now gather the tools, we are wanted in the next valley over.”
    That is how I became a muqanni. So next time you tell me that I work you too hard, or that my lessons make no sense, remember this - my apprenticeship was ten times worse than yours.

 
     
     
     
     
     
    After Londinium
     
    The ashes of the city were still warm underfoot. They felt gentle against Luigsech’s skin, until she trod on something broken beneath them - a snapped bone or shard of pottery. Then she was reminded of the destruction they had brought to pass here, unleashing their rage upon the people living within the invaders’ walls.
    She had thought that vengeance would help her feel better about losing Seisyll, but she was still as lost as she had been for months. The ashes were meant to hold something, anything to soften the blow. That was why she had come back here, axe still in hand, while the rest of the army formed up behind their queen and marched on. But the ruins were too empty, too quiet to bring any comfort. The black stain of ashes would forever scar this land, but it could not drive away her grief. Walking here just left her feeling hollow inside.
    The wind blew, lifting ash from the base of a fallen pillar. Perhaps that