Mother of Eden (12 page)

“It’s what looks out of everyone’s eyes,” I said. “The thing that sees the world.”

“Oh, what utter
nonsense
. Obviously no one looks out of our eyes but ourselves. As to who
watches
the world, it’s President. President watches us from across the sky, with his daughter, Gela. And don’t you forget that. People listen to you when you wear the ring, girl. People believe you. It’s a big responsibility. And you must only
ever
tell them what we teachers know for certain to be true.”

He’d been annoyed for a moment there, but he seemed to have cheered up again.

“Well, that’s enough teaching for one waking, I think. I must go to Council. I’ll give you some barks to help with the letters, and we can meet again soon.”

Quite suddenly he knelt in front of me and kissed the ring, not just once, but many times. It was as if, after scolding me and treating me like a child, the Head Teacher of all New Earth had suddenly
become
a child. And then, just as suddenly, he’d turned back again into the Head Teacher.

“You still have a lot to learn, Ringwearer. You’ll need to work hard. You’ll need to listen carefully to those who know.”

From up at the Headmanhouse came the sound of the Second Horn.

Greenstone Johnson

I remembered a time with my dad when I was a little boy. We were sitting by the river with spears in our hands, waiting for fish. The forest pulsed and hummed around us. Glitterbirds squabbled above us on the roof of the Great Cave. Ringmen stood nearby, like silent shadows, in drifts of sparkling starflowers.

“In New Earth,” my dad said to me, “the Headman is the boss of everything, am I right?”

“Yes, of course, Dad.”

“Tom’s dick, that’s a
lot
of power,” he said, like he’d never thought about it before. “So where does it all come from?”

“It comes from John,” I told him.

I was confident about that because it was what the teachers had told me. The power came from John Redlantern, because it was him who led the people from Circle Valley to Wide Forest and from Wide Forest across Worldpool. After John died, the Headmen stood in his place.

“It comes from John, does it?”

It was
definitely
what the teachers had told me. John Redlantern, deep down there in the past, was the source of our power, just as the heat of Underworld was the source of life in Eden. Yet my dad’s tone told me I’d said something wrong. I nodded nervously.

“And where did John get his power from?”

“I
 
.
.
.” I had no idea. No one had ever told me. It was like asking where Underworld got its heat. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t
know
?”

Dad slapped me, hard, round the back of my head, so that tears came into my eyes. “Tom’s dick, wake
up,
boy! Wake up and use your own brain. That’s the trouble with these bloody teachers, they make you rely on their stupid barks. John’s power came from the people who followed him, of course! It came from the fact that he’d managed to persuade them to follow him. We’d never even have heard of him otherwise, would we?”

“No, Dad.”

“So where does the Headman’s power come from?”

“From
 
.
.
.”

“Harry’s dick, boy, what’s the matter with you? I’ve just
told
you!”

“From his followers?”

I half expected to be hit again, it sounded so dumb—
how could power
over
people come
from
those same people?—
but what choice did I have? That was what I’d understood him to say.

“Well done, Einstein, well done. It comes from his followers. So what would happen if I asked the chiefs to give me all their ground? Or told the teachers to pile up their writing-
barks in Meeting Ground and set fire to the lot?” He laughed. “Ha! Burn all their barks. Not a bad idea. Perhaps I should do just that.”

I smiled weakly.

“Come on, boy! I asked you a question. What would happen?”

“You’re the Headman, so they’d have to do it.”

Wham! Another hard slap made little blue rocklanterns glow inside my skull.

“John’s strong hand, boy, didn’t I just tell you to use your
brain
? Don’t just repeat what the teachers say!”

Why did he send me to the teachers, then, I might have asked. Why, when I came back from them, did he make me repeat exactly what they’d taught me? But of course I didn’t ask him either of those things. I just tried to figure out what he wanted me to say.

“I guess
 
.
.
.” I began.

In the water below us the pale belly of a bluefish caught the treelight for a moment. I wondered whether to spear it, knowing that Dad might well tell me off for slowness if I missed my chance, but fearing that if I did, he might shout at me for not paying attention to him.

“I guess the chiefs and teachers would complain,” I said, cringing in readiness for another slap.

“Well done. They’d complain. Of course they bloody would, and, not only that, they’d all gang up and wouldn’t do what I asked. Maybe I could take
one
chief’s ground from him, but why ever would
all
of them agree to being treated like that, when there are forty of them and only one of me?”

“I don’t know, Dad.”

“Well, it’s about bloody time you gave it some thought. You’ll be Headman one waking. How do you think you’re going to get people to do what you want?”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Okay, let’s start with the small people. Why do they do what they’re told?”

“Ringmen make them?”

“That’s right. Ringmen make them! The blokes with spears make them. And who else?”

“I
 
.
.
. I’m not sure.”

“What about underteachers?”

“Underteachers?”

I gaped at him. I knew what underteachers were, of course. I knew they took knowledge from the Teachinghouse out to the small people, and taught them what was true and what was right, but I couldn’t see what that had to do with the Headman’s power.

Dad sighed. “The underteachers tell folk they must do what we tell them if they want to please Mother Gela. They make them believe that’s really so.”

“Yes, of course.”

“
‘Yes, of course,’
” he mimicked. “
‘Yes, of course,’ Greenstone says. So why didn’t you say so, then? It’s important what the underteachers do. Ringmen can’t watch everyone all the time, but the underteachers make sure that President and Mother Gela are always watching from the sky: President, who they fear; Gela, who they love. And who’s in charge of underteachers and ringmen?”

“Teachers and chiefs.”

“Well done. Underteachers take their orders from the Teachinghouse, and ringmen take their orders from the chiefs. Only the ringmen here in Edenheart take their orders straight from me, them and the ones out on the far ground where there are no chiefs yet. So to keep my power, I need the chiefs and the teachers, don’t I? I know it and they know it. So how do I keep on top of them? How do I stay boss?”

“I
 
.
.
. You
 
.
.
.”

“Gela’s tits, boy, what’s the matter with you? Don’t you notice
anything
that’s going on around you? I have to persuade them that it’s worth their while, don’t I? Okay, I come down hard hard on anyone who steps out of line, but that will only work if most of them are on my side. Otherwise, they could just get rid of me, just like they got rid of Headman Roger. You know what happened to him?”

“Some chiefs did for him, and his cousin took over as Headman.”

“Exactly. He thought just because he was Headman and John’s son, he could do what he liked. Big mistake. Sent him to the fire. But if he’d played the game right, you and me wouldn’t be having this conversation because it would be one of his grandsons who was Headman, and I’d just be some old chief.”

He looked at me, his eyes glittery and hard. I thought about the fire, the terrible drop, the heat so intense that flesh burst into flames.

“So what have we got to do, boy, if we want to stay in charge?”

“Give the chiefs whatever they want.”

I was sure I’d got the answer right this time, so I really wasn’t expecting the blow round my head that nearly knocked me into the water.

“
No,
you idiot! If you give them whatever they want, you make
them
boss. You won’t last long if you do that. You won’t last long at all. No, you have to give them
enough
of what they want to make them think they’re better off backing you than they would be causing trouble, but you
never never never
give them exactly what they ask for.”

He leaned forward. Dad could focus on one thing completely and absolutely, but he could also shift that focus in a second. And now, all at once, he’d forgotten me completely, and was utterly intent on the water. Suddenly he thrust down with his spear and brought it out with a bluefish squirming on the tip, its arms and legs waving feebly about, its mouth opening and closing like it was crying out silently in pain.

“Trouble with you, boy, is you don’t concentrate,” my dad said. “This fellow’s been down there all this time and you never even noticed.”

He yanked the creature off the spear and smashed its head against a stone.

Give them just enough to make it worth their while backing me, but not everything they wanted. It was easy to say it, I thought as I went back to the Red Cave to meet the chiefs and teachers for that second Council, which Chief Dixon had insisted on, just like it’s easy to say that the point of chess is to take the king. But when I tried to remember what Dad had told me about
how
to do it, I couldn’t remember much more than the slaps and the punches and the angry shouts: “No.
No!
Not like that, you stupid fool!”

I’d slept badly. I’d dreamt I pushed Starlight from the Rock. I’d seen her falling toward the fire.

Dad was too sick to be there, coughing and spewing on his bed, while helpers fussed round him with water and dries. I was going to have to take the Headman’s chair myself. All the chiefs and teachers stood as I made my way between them to that lonely seat under the whitelantern tree. I turned to face them, bowed, and sat down. Then a horn blew and the complaints began:

“Naturally all of us chiefs and teachers are disappointed that you didn’t show your confidence in us by choosing one of our daughters.
.
.
.”

“Of course we’re all troubled by the fact that you chose to ignore our advice.
.
.
.”

“We need to know that we’ll be listened to, or how can we help you take New Earth forward?”

This was the opening move: the laying out of grievances. I made soothing sounds as Dad would have done, though I knew he’d have found clever ways of opening up differences: between the chiefs and the teachers, perhaps, or between metal chiefs, bat chiefs, and flower chiefs.

After the grievances came the demands.

“We need your support in building up the Teachinghouse. John said teachers should be the equals of chiefs in every way.”

“We need more bats in the metal caves if we’re going to keep up the supply of greenstone. And you need to bring in the forest people and put them to proper work.”

“We need them just as much in the flower caves if we’re going to make all the plantstuff we need.”

“If we’re going to get more out of the small people, we need more ringmen.”

“And more babies. When is the Headman going to do something about these women who won’t slip with men, or only slip the back way so they don’t get pregnant? The Rock’s too good for them, I say. What do they think women are
for
?”

“Teachers must have houses as big as the houses of chiefs, or the small people will think knowledge isn’t important.”

“Chiefs
and
teachers need bigger houses.”

“What about Old Ground? We know we need to take it back before the Davidfolk learn how to make metal themselves, but where are the boats we need, where are the spears, where are the extra ringmen?”

“We need more babies.”

“We need more bats.”

“We need more metal.”

“We need more ground.”

“We need more work from the small people.”

Dad was right, of course. No one could satisfy them all. I could only hope to meet just enough of their demands that most of them would back me more or less willingly, and the rest would fall into line for fear of losing out. But, Tom’s dick, where did I start? How did I give enough to one lot without taking too much away from another?

Well, I still had time. I started by reminding them that Dad was still Headman, not me, and that I could only take their requests to him. Then I promised to work on sorting out two things that all of them seemed to want. One of these was to do something about the forest people, the small people who led their own lives out top and didn’t contribute anything to the rest of us. My dad had once suggested to me a new way of fixing this.

“Every single grown-
up in New Earth will have to give at least one cube of metal every hundredwake to the Headman,” I said, presenting Dad’s idea as if I’d thought of it myself. “The only way those forest people will be able to get that metal will be by doing some work for one or another of you chiefs.”

That went down pretty well, specially with chiefs from out top and the outer caves. I felt sorry for the forest people, minding their own business out there, just like Starlight’s people on their waterhill, but what else could I do? And after all, I told myself, they wouldn’t be here in New Earth at all if it wasn’t for my great-
great grandfather John.

“The other thing I promise to work on is the plan to take back Old Ground. I know we haven’t got anything like enough boats yet, or ringmen, or spears, but I promise this is something my dad and me will work on.”

I felt bad about that, too. It made me feel sick inside to think of what “taking back Old Ground” would really mean, but I told myself that whatever plans we made, nothing would happen for a long long time, and a lot might change between now and then.

And, after all, if I was going to give these chiefs and teachers at least some of the things they thought they should have, where else could I go?