Free Under Fragile Stone by Oisin McGann Page A

ago, when other races first started trading with Myunans, they considered us savages because we didn’t wear clothes,’ Nayalla told him. ‘We had no reason to; we’re not as vulnerable to the elements as humans. And we couldn’t start wearing them, because we needed to be able to sculpt ourselves without layers of cloth getting in the way. You see, even our hair is really made up of the same flesh as the rest of our bodies. But being naked put us at a disadvantage , so we started shaping our flesh into garments to keep up appearances whenever we met other tribes. Now, we do it anyway; it’s become part of life for us.’
    Dalegin was looking slightly disgusted. Noogan was determined not to seem too taken aback by the revelation, but it raised all sorts of questions that he just did not want to ask.
    â€˜Put your headlamps out, lads,’ Paternasse said. ‘You’re wastin’ fuel.’
    Noogan and Dalegin took off their helmets, opened the lenses and pinched out the little flames. The pool of light from the lantern seemed all the more paltry now. The scratching and tapping sounds of the distant digging carried through to them, reassuring and frustrating them in equal measure. There was nothing to do but wait.
    â€˜Anybody got any jokes?’ Dalegin asked, his thin, moustached face barely visible in the shadows.
    â€˜For pity’s sake, Dal,’ Noogan said. ‘Balkrelt and the other lads are dead!’
    â€˜And we could still follow them – I need a bloody laugh, man!’
    Paternasse could hear the tension in Dalegin’s voice and knew he was close to cracking. The old miner had been there and felt sympathy for the younger miner.
    â€˜Here, how many Noranians does it take to boil an egg?’
    â€˜Dunno.’
    â€˜Ten. One to heat the water, the other nine to do the paperwork!’
    â€˜Ha! Good one!’ Noogan’s laugh was forced, but it was still good to hear. ‘I’ve got one for you: what’s the difference between a Noranian and a skack?’
    â€˜Dunno.’
    â€˜The skack has a mother who loves it.’
    â€˜Ha, ha, haaaa!’
    â€˜Ah, we’re too hard on them,’ Paternasse chortled. ‘Wish the Provinchus was here now. I’d be heartbroken if I died before I got to tell ’im how fetchin’ he looked in that nightshirt.’
    The strained, but rowdy laughter helped to release some of the tension.
    â€˜How do you stop a Myunan from drownin’?’ Dalegin asked.
    â€˜Dal, don’t,’ Noogan muttered.
    â€˜Take your foot off his head.’
    Nayalla was sitting outside the light of the lantern, but Noogan still avoided looking in her direction. He was embarrassed for the shape-changers and thought Paternasse might come out with something to make it right, but the old miner said nothing. Noogan opened his mouth to speak, but did not know what to say. Myunans had always made his skin crawl, but they were all stuck in this hole, and making jokes about them didn’t seem right now.
    Paternasse cocked his head and listened. He put the flat of his hand against the floor, and then stood up suddenly. The tremor started slowly and rose in strength. Dust fell from the ceiling and the lantern started bouncing along the ground.
    â€˜Noogan! Pick up the light!’ Paternasse snapped.
    The young miner swept the lantern off the floor and held it up, anxiously watching the ceiling. Mirkrin woke, felt the shuddering and curled up into a ball, moaning. Nayalla hugged him, leaning over him protectively.
    â€˜It’s going to hold!’ Paternasse told them. ‘The supports are holding.’
    There was a muffled rumble and the tremor eased off. They all waited stock still for something else to happen, but nothing did. Paternasse walked over to the crack in the pile of rubble.
    â€˜Jube!’ he yelled. ‘You all right, up there?’
    There was no answer.
    â€˜Jube,