Free The Healer by Michael Blumlein Page A

was quiet. This world did not seem one to suffer noise.
    At the foot of the decline was a crossroads, and without hesitating Slivey proceeded to the left. They passed another crossroads and then a fork, and the drift began to narrow. At the same time the air began to thicken with dust. The light shed by their lamps, which had been bright yellow, turned a hazy brown. No more than ten feet ahead of him, Slivey's figure blurred.
    Payne hurried to catch up with him, and all at once a bomb seemed to go off inside his head. Next thing he knew, he was flat on his back, seeing stars. Then he felt a hand grip his and pull him to his feet.
    â€œYou can do it that way,” said Slivey, “but it's better if you duck. Youdon't want to go and knock your cribbing loose.” He searched the ceiling, what he called “the back,” with his headlamp. “Stand back a little.”
    Head pounding, Payne retreated several steps. Slivey pulled a crowbar from his belt and, keeping his distance, poked at the back with the pointed end. Some pebbles fell and he jammed the bar in a little deeper, levering it downward. Suddenly, a chunk of rock half the size of his body came loose and thundered to the ground. It raised a cloud of dust and made Payne jump. Slivey studied the back awhile and poked at it some more, then satisfied, moved on.
    The timber sets grew more frequent on account of the testy rock, which, according to Slivey, needed extra bracing. The wood in the sets creaked and moaned, and in his brave but uneasy heart Payne moaned a little, too. Then Slivey halted, announcing that they'd reached the face. Through the haze about fifteen feet away Payne could make out two men. One was bent over a box, fiddling with some wires attached to what looked like sticks. The other held what could have only been a jackleg drill. It was, as Vecque had said, a monstrous thing, with a huge and heavy body and a drill bit not an inch less than six feet long. It looked like a giant, legless mosquito, though surprisingly, the miner wielding it was not a giant at all, but he handled it with ease, as though the trick involved not size or strength so much as leverage and agility. Both men wore ear protectors but only one of them wore a mask. Slivey was also maskless, and Payne made a mental note to talk to him about that. The air in the heading was bad enough as it was, stale and stagnant and oxygen-deprived, without the added dust from drilling. He was happy, though, to see the ear protectors. Without them the noise of the drill would have been deafening.
    After a few minutes, Slivey touched his arm and motioned for them to leave. When they were far enough away to hear each other, he explained that the men were getting ready to shoot a round.
    â€œA round of what?” asked Payne.
    â€œDynamite.”
    â€œI'd like to see that.”
    Slivey shook his head. The rock was pretty ratty, and things sometimes happened. He didn't want someone with no experience to be nearby if something did. Besides, it was time they headed out.
    Slivey offered Payne the lead, and flattered, he accepted. By this point he felt more comfortable and self-assured, although that might have simply been the knowledge that soon he would be breathing fresh air and standing upright aboveground. They passed the first fork, and at the crossroads he confidently took the right-hand branch. Then he came to a fork he didn't quite remember. He turned to get Slivey's advice, but Slivey wasn't there. He felt a little stab of apprehension, which he put aside. It was silly: the man was right behind him. Probably had stopped to fix some bit of cribbing. He waited for the reassuring beam of light.
    A minute passed and then another. Neither light nor man appeared. Payne refused to worry. Slivey knew what he was doing. But after a bit more time he turned around and headed back.
    He retraced his steps to the crossroads, where he paused, trying to remember which way they'd come. There were