Walking the Tree (13 page)

  Melia sat by a pale young man, taken by his silence, his grace. He did not respond to her, though, and she didn't have the experience to deal with such a thing.

  She shifted closer to him, but two of the locals, tall, young women, came over and lifted her away.

  She threw their hands off and stood, fists clenched. "Who do you think you are, to lift me away?"

  "He is not for you. He is a newcomer. He is for us."

  Agara stepped in. "The girls of Ombu treated my father like this when he arrived. No wonder he's so arrogant."

  The local women came with a small bowl of liquid. "Leaves from the base. Squeezed and squeezed. A drop in your eyes will make them bright and desirable."

  A drop in their own eyes and it was that way, colours more powerful, whites like the new moon.

  When the feast was over, a delicious meal flavoured with red salt, Lillah's heart began to beat faster. She had seen this moment so many times at home, when the teachers and the young men disappeared to rooms or woodcaves, or amongst the roots of the Trees. She'd anticipated it but she was terrified. The teachers quickly gathered to speak their family Trees, ensure enough disconnection. They spoke of parentage and ancestry going back four generations. Bursen listened, eyes closed, nodding, when Lillah spoke.

  They had seen it happen more than once in Ombu. If there was a shared grandparent, the union could not take place. A shared great-grandparent and the fathers would make the decision.

  "It's okay," Bursen said. He took her hand and led her to the cave.

  "I've heard there are some caves so deep you could enter the Tree," Lillah said.

  "Not this cave. This cave is warm with the fire of the sun."

  He led her inside. The smell of jasmine was overpowering, and Lillah knew she would never use the stuff again. The closeness of his cave took her breath. Small.

  She said, "Your cave is very nice, but what about the ghosts? Can't they see us?"

  "Do you believe in the ghosts? That they are in the Tree?"

  "Doesn't everyone believe it in some way?"

  "I don't believe it. Many of the others here do, but I don't believe it. Why would the ghosts stay in the Tree?"

  "But what about the bones going missing? The bodies? What about the things we find that can only have come from within the Tree?"

"Those mysteries I can't explain."

  "Some say the Tree is full of the dead. I've seen them myself. They don't know the difference between alive and dead. "

  He closed her eyes with the palm of his hand, warm palm against her skin and for some reason he didn't smell of jasmine, he smelt more of salt, and a deep honey smell she couldn't understand. He drew her down to the floor and she opened her eyes.

  His smell was so rich it made her dizzy.

  "No one leaves here unsatisfied," he said. Somehow when he said it, it didn't disgust her.

  They heard a scream. Thea. Lillah ran out to check on her. It was the agitated young man: he thought he had won her over and was trying to drag her into his cave.

  "There's lovely pictures in here. Of the jasmine flowers, so nice, come inside, I did it myself," he shouted, his voice cracking.

  Bursen walked over and handed him a clay pot.

  "Use the jasmine oil," he said. "Rub it on your fingers and let her smell them. Run her fingers through her hair. We've been through this."

  Thea quietened at his voice. The eager boy dipped his fingers into the pot and rubbed his hands together. He gently touched Thea's cheek and she turned to allow her face to be cupped in his hand.

  "That's better," Bursen said. "Now, into the cave, you two. You'll be fine."

  Lillah wondered suddenly if she should be acting as Thea was, nervous and shy. But she couldn't do it. She was too excited.

  Bursen led her back into the cave. It was very dark in there now; no moonlight entered to shine.

  "Touch and smell are the most important senses," he said. "And taste. We don't need to see each other. In fact without vision it changes. Becomes a different sensation."

  She tried to keep her burn scar covered with her sleeve but he didn't seem to care.

  His experience made it good for Lillah. He was kind and gentle, in no hurry. He showed her how to shift positions until she was both comfortable and stimulated. He taught her how to kiss without spit dribbling down her chin. He removed himself from her at the last minute and spilled his seed outside, amongst the roots of the Tree.

  "That's how we do things here," he said.

  Then he covered her with a blanket and let her sleep.

 

In the morning Lillah fumbled in her little pouch for the moss. She had always wondered what it tasted like. It was not for general consumption; women who took it when they didn't need to, who lied about having slept with a man the night before, were known as moss-munchers. Any kind of liar could be called a moss-muncher.

  "Are you taking it?" Bursen said. She popped some in her mouth and began to chew.

  "My choice," she said. This man was not ready for children; neither was she. "I've only just started on my journey."

  "I don't spill inside you, though. You won't have a child."

  "Still, this is my precaution to take."

  She felt nauseous in the day, but that was good. The moss was working. Her lover took some to study; he was curious as to how it worked.

  Lillah looked up at the canopy, which covered the sand most of the time, leaving dappled warm patches. She felt peaceful, complete and capable.

  "Why did you sleep so long? We didn't know what to do," she heard. It was Morace, squatting among the roots.

  "You knew where I was. You could have come to find me."

  "I did. I did come." Morace drew a snake in the dirt, refusing to catch her eye. Bursen came out, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Kissed her cheek, kissed her ear. She felt her breath, his breath, and she took his hand to lead him into the cave, but Thea came over, shuddering. "Why did I get stuck with him?" She plucked at her hair. "He's got a nasty sore on his heel, from stepping on a sharp shell or coral. I don't like the look of it."

  "I haven't noticed," Lillah said.

  "He has it covered up. He doesn't want them to see."

  Thea hadn't noticed the children nearby.

  "He's got Spikesfoot! He's got Spikesfoot!" they sang.

  "Don't tell," Thea said, but the children looked at her as if she had asked them to dive into the ocean and swim far away. They ran off, and Thea jumped to her feet. "Should I warn him?"

  "About what? He's got a sore foot. What will they do?"

  Thea shook her head. "You are so caught up in your own world, you can't see outside it."

  Soon a group of people gathered in front of Thea's lover's cave. It was a quiet group; no words were needed.

  Thea's lover came out. Someone bent to inspect his foot.

  "I scraped it on a shell," he said.

  "It's Spikesfoot," the person said. The group walked with him at the centre to the roots of the Tree. The roots here were very broad and tall and he could stand between them, one hand on a root on either side.

  A ruth-stripling was pulled from the Tree and the Bark removed. Two men held him still as another used the ruth-stripling to beat his legs a dozen times, until blood beaded behind his knees and soaked the weapon. Then he was led to the water, where he rolled in the salt of it, shouting.

The ruth-stripling was thrust into the Tree.

  "Take Spikes from us," they said. "Let the internal fire take it." Lillah wondered at the sense of sending disease into the Tree rather than out to sea.

  "But that will draw the ghosts out," Lillah said. "That will make them know there is a weak man ready to be taken."

  Bursen shook his head. "Only if the illness will kill him anyway. It's a form of sacrifice. An indication of honesty. And the Tree purifies all as the sea cannot."

  Lillah put her arm around Morace. If word got out his mother was ill… She needed to keep him safe.

  They took the children down to the sea to bathe. Zygo stripped naked as he ran, and he wheeled and turned like a swimming fish.

  "I've only just realised. They don't have a seawalk here," Lillah said.

  "They rarely go beyond thigh level."

  They looked far out to sea, to the line where the sky met the water.

 

The people didn't stir until the sun was high in the sky. It was odd to wander the Order with most of them asleep. She bent to look at the shells that lit their way at night. They seemed dull, lustreless in the sunlight and she admired the ingenuity with which they had been laid in the path to light the dark night way. Lillah went back to bed and slept some more. Bursen reached for her in a lazy manner, barely raising a sweat. She laughed at him, saying, "Let's wait until your energy returns, la?" and he closed his eyes, unprotesting.

 

"Wake up, Lillah," Bursen said. She didn't want to wake up. She was enjoying a pleasant dream of climbing the Tree, finding small gifts in the branches and throwing them down to the children below.

  "You'll want to join in. We're picking the flowers tonight. You're here on a very good day. We only collect in full moonlight."

  Then there was stirring from the home of Corma, the teacher who had caught child.

  There was a groaning noise. A whimpering.

  "She refuses to go. She refuses, as she has all along," said the expectant father. "She won't listen to sense. I said I would go with her. But she wants to stay."

  Someone whispered to Lillah and Melia, "She thinks it's a myth. Untrue. That jasmine oil is safe for women who have caught child. Would you risk your child's life to prove such a point? Not many would."

  Moans again.

  "Her baby isn't due yet?" Lillah asked.

  He shook his head. "The smell is upsetting her. If you're not born to it, it can be intense."

  "True. But she smelt it many times before. What worries her this time?"

  "Jasmine oil excites the senses. It is an oil of sensuality. But overuse can lead to bad things. Because it can take away minor pain, some use it to take away major pain, and that is never a good thing. When we make it, even those used to the smell can be carried away by it."

  "Can we watch it being made?"

  "Of course. We would be honoured."

  The teachers gathered the children for the next lesson. Erica rose from a comfortable bed. The pain was gone and she was ready to join the group.

   "I learned about this when my school passed through. I was only eight," Lillah said.

  "You can learn something of it now, but every skill requires deep and abiding knowledge in order to teach it," one of the young men standing next to Bursen said.

  They picked flowers for a long time, mounds and baskets full.

  The smell of the flowers was too rich, too thick, and it made Lillah's stomach clench. She worried that something bad might be covered by the smell.

  The flowers were collected in mounds.

  The men stripped naked and ran down to the sea, where they rolled in the water and rubbed sand to clean the dirt off. They walked dripping up to the oil press.

  Someone handed Bursen a young switch, cut from the Tree.

  He lifted the switch and with a flick, hit himself on the back. He flinched, lifted the switch, flicked it again. Agara's lover joined him.

  Both men did this until their skin was reddened, with small cuts in places. The people seemed unconcerned they might be frightening the children. The Order's children were clearly not bothered by it.

  "I told you they would beat us," Morace said. Lillah hushed him.

  One of the fathers said, "We need to be very pure to make the oil. The oil cures Spikes, so there can be no infection amongst the creators."

  "Any contamination can make Spikes come," someone said. In Lillah's Order they had talked of Spikes. They understood that it had happened quickly, that one sick child meant two, meant four, and therefore sick children should be isolated until they are well. If they didn't get well, they should be treated.

  Lillah felt her cheeks redden at the sight of those reddened backs.

  Thick reddish brown oil drooled from the lip of the jug. A broadening puddle of it formed, flecked with impurities dropped from the Tree and blown from the sand.

  It went unnoticed by the rite-makers, although wasted oil would not make them popular. They would cover it with dirt; hide it to prevent panic.

  The Order liked their oil pure – the oil makers pure as well. They were proud of the fact they had never lost a citizen, but sending their women away to give birth elsewhere skewed this number, as did their encouragement to old people to "take the walk": women to their original Orders, men out to sea.

  An unfair arrangement, Lillah thought. Bursen stepped around lightly on his toes, watching the procedure carefully.

  "This is very specialised knowledge," he said. Behind him trailed two young men, watching everything.

  They would take over one day, if they could keep up, prove themselves. It was very competitive, to be the smartest man in the Order.

  "They need to understand how everything they do has a reaction, so they must do the right thing. If I push a child, he falls over, and his mother will beat me. If I use the wrong flower in perfume, it will smell like rot from the bottom of the sea. You cannot guess these things; you must know them."

  Lillah admired Bursen, her lover, for his cleverness. He thought to the next step, did not merely accept.

  "Everything we take, everything we do, everything we combine, has an effect," he said. His assistant yawned.