The Glass Mountains (9 page)

“It supports what it supports. I ask no one to remain with me. I only say that this is as far as I go.”
 

“Mother, don’t make us carry you.”
 

“The sled doesn’t exist that can carry me where I refuse to go.”
 

My parents had begun to pile up things around Katinka. So far they’d piled around her a toy that hadn’t been destroyed, some bedding, a sheet, several bottles, and a piece of meat. I’d seen my parents do the same before, and other parents as well. It was a traditional ritual, an attempt to keep the child alive by surrounding it with chosen items. We all started to help, gathering up strong rocks, or leaves that still had life in them, and placing the items in a circle around my little sister. Every time she appeared to gain more light in her eyes, we redoubled our efforts, but after a while it was clear that she’d begun to slip away.
 

My mother turned to the elder. “What can I do?”
 

And the elder said, “Nothing. She’s dead.”
 

Indeed, Katinka’s lovely black eyes now stared into a world none of us could see. My father looked first at my dead darling sister and then at each of us children in turn. “Has anyone considered negotiating with the Formans?” he said sadly.
 

“The Formans don’t negotiate, they give you choices,” someone replied.
 

“Isn’t having choices better than having no choices? And if one of those choices means that no one else need die? I have a daughter dead.”
 

“I don’t mean to be unsympathetic, but many have lost children, and more than you have. How can you negotiate with murderers?”
 

My father said, “Like everyone here, I knew nothing about murderers before the current troubles, but now I think I do know something. I know that murder must be stopped. Someone must see what choices Forma offers us.”
 

Maruk stood up boldly to my father. “I take no choices from the Formans.”
 

“Same here,” said Sian.
 

“And here,” I surprised myself by saying. I’d never before defied my parents on an issue of such importance.
 

My father shook his head. “Even if the war ended tomorrow, I can see that you children are changed forever, just as Katinka is.”
 

We took Katinka into the forest and dug a grave, lining it with pebbles. We then laid down a blanket before placing my sister in to sleep. My mother shut one of her eyes, my father the other, and everyone in camp sprinkled a handful of sand over her, again and again until together we filled in the hole. My parents sprinkled the first two handfuls and the last. In that way, they buried a child for the ninth time in their lives.
 

Back at camp, Maruk laid out his map and studied it while most of the rest of us ate. My parents conferred to the side, nibbling occasionally on pieces of meat as they talked. I saw how after more than a hundred years together they were two heads, two hearts, two bodies, and one soul. When one died, the other would.
 

My father walked over to where Maruk studied his map. “Maruk, you’ve recently come of age, and these are extraordinary circumstances, so I must allow you to make your own decisions. But your mother and I have decided to return to see whether we can negotiate, and we would hope that you would take care of your brothers and sisters at least until you reach the hotlands.”
 

“No, you can’t go!” I said. “I saw your ghosts in a dream.” That gave my parents pause, but I could see they’d made their decision.
 

“There are twenty Ba Mirada clan members still alive here, including you children. They’ll take care of you, and you must take care of them. I don’t think I can do more for you than to try to end this absurdity.”
 

“Mother!” I said.
 

“Where one spouse steps into danger, the other must follow,” said my mother.
 

When my mother spoke in that tone, her mind would not be changed.
 

The events of the day had caused the shattering of our family. I went off to the forest to pout with Artie. I believed from my dream that my parents would die. Beyond that I held no beliefs.
 

Artie licked my face and hands with his huge dry tongue. He placed his paw in my lap and fell asleep. I, too, fell asleep, leaning over with my arms around him. I awoke to the sound of Maruk’s voice calling my name. It seemed far away, part of my sleep, until I shook myself and saw how dark the forest had become.
 

“I’m here!” I said.
 

In a minute he rushed from the trees and hugged me. “You scared us all. Why are you hiding?”
 

“I fell asleep.”
 

“Listen, we’re all searching for you. I have to take you back to camp.”
 

“I’m ready,” I said.
 

“There’s something else first.”
 

“Go on.”
 

“Sian and I are leaving soon for the Soom Kali border.”
 

“What? They’re nothing but barbarians there. You’ll get killed.”
 

“As you’ve seen, I could get killed as easily in my own sector.”
 

“But your family is here.”
 

“My new family will be where my wife and I make it.”
 

“And your old family?”
 

“Always first in my heart. But a Bakshami cannot always act as his heart tells him to. In that respect, we’re well suited for war.”
 

“You’re not the Maruk I grew up with.”
 

“I cannot live a life of peace in the midst of a war. I might as well lie down and let the sun beat me to death. I have a responsibility to my fate. Grandfather wrote me that I would live someday in the Land of Knives.”
 

He gestured behind him, and I noticed Sian’s tall form standing in the near-darkness. “We’ll arrive in Soom Kali before you reach the hotlands.”
 

“But Maruk,” I said. “If you leave, I’ll...”
 

He took my head in his hands and kissed me gently on my forehead, and still more gently on my lips. “You’ll be okay. I make my own prediction. You must stick with Jobei and Leisha, and the three of you will flourish together.”
 

“This is all my fault.”
 

“How can any of it be your fault?”
 

“I don’t know ... I should have given you my knife. Then you would love me enough to stay.”
 

“Mariska, Mariska. You’ve always known I longed to travel.”
 

“But that was only a fantasy. Now your own sister is dead and you decide to leave with a strange girl.”
 

“Katinka’s death had nothing to do with my new wife. You must respect Sian as part of your family.”
 

“I still blame myself for your wanting to leave.”
 

“You must stop it,” he said sharply. “There is no time for blame in war, only for responsibility. We must all fight for our future now.”
 

“I’d rather die! I want none of the future, and if you had any sense, neither would you.”
 

Sian held out her hand to me. “Come. Your parents are leaving tomorrow. You must spend time with them.”
 

I turned away. But whereas before Maruk had always indulged my petulance, now he led Sian away with no further word.
 

I walked toward the camp when they were out of sight. I felt jealous of the girl, who in truth seemed brave and warm, worthy of my brother.
 

At camp my parents had already packed up everything they needed for their trip to Forma. They planned to go to bed early but for now listened as the other parents talked of their plans. I happened to sit next to Tarkahn, and while the others talked to each other, he spoke nonstop to anyone who happened to listen.
 

“It’s true we could have tried to negotiate,” he said, “but how can you negotiate with someone who is holding a gun in their hand when you yourself are holding only a jar of sand in yours, for isn’t it an act of foolishness to think you can talk sense into someone for whom sense is the same as death, because you see in Forma if you pause to use your sense you won’t be alert enough to see that your enemies are catching up with you, and in a place like Forma everyone is bound to have many enemies, sort of like in Soom Kali, don’t get me wrong, of course the people of Soom Kali are equally barbarians, but at least they have style and flourish ... and in any case, the hotlands are the spiritual center of Bakshami, and if we must die on the way there, then so be it. But to remain here doesn’t make sense to me. We must visit the hotlands to know whether our sector is to live or die...”
 

“If all Bakshami commits suicide by going to the hotlands, then our sector that we claim to love will certainly die,” said Maruk. “I may not accompany all of you as far as the hotlands.”
 

While they argued over what to do, I went to sit by Ansmeea’s youngest daughter, Ansmeea the Small, who’d stopped sobbing and whose eyes had swollen so that they formed tiny hills with slits in the middle. I brushed my hand through her brown hair, which felt so thin and fine it wasn’t like hair at all. Hair was something strong and beautiful, but hers was soft. I liked the way it stuck to my fingers like the webs of woodbugs.
 

“Your hair’s so soft,” I said. I wondered whether that had insulted her. “I like it.”
 

She paused. “It’s like my mother’s was.”
 

“No one else possesses such hair; therefore you should feel blessed.”
 

Even through her slitted eyes I could now see a hopeful puppy kind of look. “Do you think?”
 

“My grandfather always said such things. Every time we complained, he said we should feel blessed we had mouths to complain with.”
 

“Your brother saved my life, but not the lives of my whole family. Is that a blessing?”
 

“Not today, but in time you may see it is.” I tried to remember what else my grandfather had taught me. “Grandpa always told me not to let too much time lapse between what I thought and how I acted. Otherwise I might end up doing only one or the other. So you thought about Maruk’s warning, and then you acted by running. My grandfather was very old, so he must have known something. You followed his directions about thinking and acting. No harm could come of following my grandfather’s words.”
 

“I don’t share your blood and don’t share your convictions.”
 

“But my convictions are the same as everyone’s.”
 

“I’ve lost my father to the viruses of Bakshami, my mother and one sister to the Formans, and another sister to your brother. Your convictions are a speck of sand among millions of specks of sand.”
 

“You can be the sister of my sisters and brothers and me.”
 

She looked away shyly and said simply, “No.” Then she got up and walked away to sit near a group of people, probably of her clan. I felt stung but didn’t dwell on it. Like many of us, she would be of age soon and must make her own decisions.
 

Because no one had slept much the night before, most everybody had started getting ready for bed. There wasn’t enough bedding for all the families—or remnants of families—but we tried to divide everything equitably. I ended up with one tattered covering to share with Leisha. The grown-ups had come to no decision on what to do tomorrow. The only decision for now was to try to sleep as much as possible.
 

I’d slept in the forest earlier and couldn’t sleep now. We lay unusually close together tonight, and I felt comforted by the sound of a hundred friends breathing. Tarkahna had lost two of her seven brothers. Even from across camp, I could make out her labored breathing. I hoped she felt comforted by the sound of Tarkahn mumbling in his sleep. Apparently he didn’t dream of the present, but of the past. All his mumblings concerned his toolmaking business back in our old village. I hoped my parents, too, dreamed of the past now, so that at least they would savor one more night of happiness before embarking on what would certainly be a hellish and lonely journey back. Two people and two dogs, alone in the sand. Meanwhile, unless events dictated otherwise, I would be headed for the hotlands. I would probably be of age before I would know whether my parents failed or succeeded.
 

My mother rustled, and I saw her dark form slip out from under a sheet and come to sit by us. I’d slept so soundly during the walking that I’d never been wakened by her coming to make sure we didn’t die in the night. But somehow I’d known she’d continued this personal ritual of hers. Usually my mother was a person who held her back straight, but tonight her back bent into a weird shape and her head rolled from side to side as she stared straight ahead.