'Shit-shafter!'

Lanna's mouth dropped open. A girl of no more than seven screamed at her brother across the street, the insult in almost perfect Southern. Lanna glared at the child. A girl with pigtails and dressed play-clothes shouldn't know those words. The girl's brother sneered at his sister as he stood in the doorway of their home.

'If our mother catches you speaking that nonsense then...' He had the good sense to close his mouth when he realised Lanna was standing in the street, watching them with rapt attention.

The children turned to Lanna and gave a sheepish bow.

Lanna moistened her lips and returned the gesture before hurrying on.

The sun climbed higher into the cloudy sky and a welcome chill breezed past her, carrying the promise of more favourable temperatures. She would seek out Hemil to give him a piece of her mind.

'Such is not acceptable,' Lanna muttered to herself. She should be in the paddies. The mudfish needed an inspection. One of the few things the Southern family knew better than the village was fish. As the only flesh they could consume, they all had an interest in making sure the fish population stayed healthy and plentiful.

Lanna put a hand to her stomach. She hadn't slept well, body twitching whenever she found rest. It could point to an oncoming seizure or mean nothing. She'd best let Hemil know. She needed another set of eyes watching her.

He was in the ox shed, feeding and tending to the creatures. The hot bovine smell made Lanna lick her lips. She considered taking a bite when no one was looking. Rich, bloody, warm meat. The texture of the flesh on her tongue, the caress of the blood as it ran down her throat and... She shook herself from the tantalising memory of her carnivore days.

Hemil gave her a welcoming smile and a bow worthy of a palace official.

'To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?' he asked, filling a feeding trough with fermented grass, adding a fruity counterpoint in the barn's aroma to further pull at her instincts. The ox moved to munch at the sweet-smelling stems.

Lanna put her hands on her hips and Hemil straightened.

'What have I done now?' he asked with a resigned sigh. The smirk refused to leave his lips. Did he already know what she would say?

'I'm teaching you no more Southern if you're going to pass it on to children.'

He snorted and put down his feed bucket. 'A buffalo escaped. I was whipping it home, and I was "pissed off" as you would say.' He gave a quick grin when she rolled her eyes. 'Southern words seemed more appropriate.'

Rapid steps and he was before her, hands on her waist. He had been much freer with her lately. More inclined to touch and be near. Moreover, she looked forward to the contact – anticipated it even.

'Don't be angry, Lanna. I dread to think what you'll do to the fish if you go to them in a sour mood.'

Oh, ancestors. She tried to frown at him, but her lips moved upward and she found herself chuckling.

'Much better.'

It happened so fast she questioned whether he'd done it. Lips settled on the swell of her cheek: soft, slightly moist and cooler than the flaming skin under them. He pulled back, hands tightening on her waist as if fearing she would move away. Her words shrivelled on her leaden tongue.

Was her face on fire? It felt like it. Lanna stared at him like a moons-struck calf. Her gaze fixed on his lips and she lifted a hand to the wet mark on her face, almost cradling the spot in her palm.

He watched her, intent on the emotions fluttering over her face. Then he tugged at her hips, pulling her forward, tilting his head and...

Something shuddered through her feet.

She frowned.

Hemil froze.

Half a heartbeat of nothing – then the world fell into pandemonium.

There was a roar: a deep, extended rumble that vibrated every bone in her body. The floor bucked and jumped under her feet, and cracks opened in the hard-packed dirt. The walls of the barn shook, and stressed wood screamed and snapped.

The ox fled, bolting from the barn, almost knocking her to her knees. She couldn't find her footing.

What was this?

An arm locked round her and they stumbled to the door.

'No!'

She could hardly hear him over the thunder of the earth. Hemil pulled her back into the doorframe of the barn and held her there, arms either side of her midriff. His hands clung to the timbers, pinning her in place.

No time to think; only blind trust.

Parts of the barn crashed to the ground, and chunks of earthen floor danced across the undulating terrain like landed fish. Outside people ran, stumbled, screamed. Dashing to leave trembling buildings.

The doorframe bucked and smacked into her chest and face, and Hemil's arms strained and pulled them both closer to the wood. He said something, muttering over and over as the world convulsed around them.

Then it stopped.

Choking dust filled the air with haze, and Lanna's ears rang in the aftermath. People wailed, the sound muted and muffled.

'... merciful Emperor protect this servant and those he holds dear, so he can live to serve another day... merciful Emperor...'

Hemil shivered behind her, face pressed into her shoulder. Lanna's hands covered his death grip on the wood and tried to ease him from it. Her face throbbed, bruised and cut from splinters in the doorpost, and Hemil's hands oozed blood. In places his skin had abraded away. She turned to see his ashen face and trembling chin.

'Hemil, I... I think... it's gone.'

'Earthshake,' he gasped.

She shook her head, not knowing the word.

'High ground,' he wheezed. 'Now. Worse coming.' He stumbled from her and cupped his hands round his mouth.

'The hills, everyone. Don't wait. Don't take anything. Go now.' He left her side, moving into the smothering dust to do his duty. Even though he was afraid, even though he'd been praying for his life only moments before, he was the Headman's son.

'Lanna!'

She snapped to attention and turned to him.

'Upper terraces – follow the rest. Wait there and don't come back down, not for anything.' The rest of his words made no sense to her. Something about water?

She responded to the authority in his tone. Unsteady, she followed the stream of those leaving the village. No one pushed; no one ran.

Her world narrowed to breath and following those in front. Lanna didn't hear her brother call. Nor did she react when he latched onto her. Rapid speech, hugs and kisses all felt so far away.

The stinging slap Durrick delivered her across her cut cheek sent her reeling.

'Snap out of it!' Durrick roared. 'So the earth shook? Who cares? Stop acting like a slack-jawed child and help us!'

Lanna turned to see where he pointed. The old struggled to get up the steep path. Children cried for missing parents. Her father carried two full-grown injured adults over each shoulder, while her mother led a gaggle of children. They followed her in a line like imprinted ducklings. At the bottom of the slope, a woman crawled, her young daughter trying to urge her up.

Broken bunds leaked water into the valley leaving the lower slopes slick with mud. 'Sorry.' It was all she had to say. Durrick nodded; together they slid down the slope.

Lanna didn't remember how many she carried, how often she fell. Muscles she hadn't used since crossing the Blacklands pulled taut and throbbed in protest. The Headman counted everyone at least five times. The entire village stood at the top of the valley where the old Imperial highway cut across the top of the hills.

People battered, bones broken, but no one dead. That was miraculous as far as Lanna was concerned. Yet that didn't explain why they moved uphill. Her mind poked at the problem. Why risk moving the injured?

She looked to her family, taking in her mother's limp and the blood dripping from her father's scalp. Durrick had been in the paddies and had no injuries. Lanna wove her way between people. When she saw Hemil and Mika locked in a fierce embrace she smiled, a weight lifting from her heart.

'Lanna.' Hemil slipped an arm free from his sister and gestured to her. Lanna hesitated, though she found her faltering steps moving in his direction.

He wrapped the arm over her and pulled her in close to Mika. The shuddering girl did as her brother and pulled an arm from him to slip around Lanna, clasping Hemil's hand at the small of her broad Southern back.

'We're safe,' Hemil's voice sighed. 'Buildings can be strengthened, crops salvaged. As long as we're all alive, nothing else matters.'

Lanna let her head drop to his shoulder. Mika clung to her side. Hemil's pulse hammered and his breath rasped, but he hid his distress well. Lanna closed her eyes and found her arms cradling the Imperials that held her.

An argument broke out behind them then, harsh voices cutting through the quiet moment like a serrated knife, tearing at them until they separated.

'Had we left the upper slopes be, we wouldn't be waiting here to see our crop destroyed!'

Hemil's father spoke, authoritarian tone carrying with ease. 'Blame is pointless. Will it bring the crop back?'

'If you had listened instead of—'

'No one could predict this.' Hemil's voice lashed out in defence of his father, and he moved away to join the debate. 'We've not had an earthshake for ten years.'

Mika's hand slipped into Lanna's.

'They say the crop is lost?' Lanna asked her. 'The bunds are broken, but they can be repaired, can't they? I don't see the problem.'

Mika gave a dry sob and pulled at Lanna's hand, not answering her question.

Others stood on the ridge of the hill, looking to the south, squinting against the mid-morning sun. Mika pulled Lanna to stand beside Durrick and Alric. Freya was soothing crying babies behind them.

'My children.' Speaking Southern, Alric's striking blue eyes swept over them, in sharp contrast to his mud-caked face. 'I am proud of you.'

Durrick dipped his head, and Lanna looked at her father, a little dumbfounded.

'There's worse to come, and this village will need our strength.'

As if to punctuate his words another rumble shuddered through the ground. Different this time: not the jumping terror of earlier but a subtler vibration.

It happened so fast, Lanna couldn't take it in. A wall of white water spewed through the valley and swept away almost everything before it: fields, barns, birds, pets, though the village and Lanna's hut stood firm against the tide. The houses had been built on a steep slope. It seemed this eventuality had been planned for long ago by the village founder.

The angry water rose, and the work of years drowned under it. Bunds and field systems, crops and equipment. The water twisted and eddied and the flow began to abate as swiftly as it had come. A familiar scent hit her. Sharp, acrid. It stung her eyes. The temperature plummeted, the warmth sucked away by the icy water.

Mika shivered and cried. Lanna pulled her into a hug without even thinking about it.

'Whitewater,' Durrick muttered next to Lanna. She nodded.

Water chalk-white in colour. Water from the Blacklands.

The argument abated as the floodwaters did. Below white sediment smothered the valley – the same white clay that crisscrossed the empty black plains to the south. A place of endless dark gravel and white rivers that snaked over it, as if the land wept. Such a melancholy place, though the histories said people had lived there once.

Lanna felt her feet throb with remembered pain. The wet, the rot and water with a strange scent. It had taken them months to cross the Blacklands.

'What do we do?' Lanna heard a voice behind her, bringing her thoughts from her journey almost half a year before.

'What we always do,' came the Headman's voice. 'Dig. Prepare the land for planting after the freeze.' He lifted his voice.

'We all dig, clear the corruption from our home. We will not sully the Empire by letting so much grit from the cursed land remain on our soil!'

Lanna looked over the Headman's solid back and his rough-cut black hair.

'If you are a woman or child, I will not force you to do this, but the more help we have, the sooner we cleanse our home. If you are injured, I order you not to aid us. That is not negotiable until a chemist says otherwise.'

Mika looked up at Lanna and gave her a wavering smile. 'I bet I can clean up more than you before sunset.'

Lanna chuckled, despite the situation. 'I accept your challenge, pampered little Imperial. May the best woman win.'