Walking the Tree (14 page)

  "They don't like my talk." He took Lillah's hand, a bottle of fresh oil in the other.

  "I like it," she said.

  "You will learn more than most on your journey, then."

  His assistant said, "I'm glad I don't have to travel elsewhere. I like to be where I know."

  Bursen nodded. "It's good to be a man."

  Lillah knew many men feared 'elsewhere', and was glad to have the curiosity to walk.

  He took her to the water's edge, where small deposits of salt lay. "I have heard there are places where red salt lines the shore. I believe that salt with this oil, rubbed into the skin, will make the flesh strong and pure."

  Lillah smiled. "How did you get your position? You are very young."

  "I fought long and hard and had the desire from a childhood spent at work. I passed many tests. Those young men will have no chance. There's another, very young, just back from school. I plan to take him as my apprentice. I believe he will be successful."

  Lillah watched the talkfire for a while. It was a wild one, but they didn't seem concerned. Later, though, when the wood seemed alive it was so hot, one of the logs rolled off and into a pile of cloth. It burst into flames in high, hot tongue.

  "The fire!" Lillah shouted, her heart pounded. The other teachers panicked also, knocking things over as the fire spread.

  Calmly, the apprentices fetched water and put out the fire.

 

The majority of the jars of jasmine oil were set aside. "Will you trade these at market with Ombu?" Melia asked. Ombu's main trade was Jasmine oil with Aloes and perfume with Laburnum, so they could make themselves smell nice.

   "No, those are for Ailanthus. We owe them for the birthings of the last year."

 

It was strange. Lillah's father had been right: people were very different when you got to know them. The contrast of the welcoming party, full of joy, and the rare glimpses that Lillah had had, on rare previous visits, were different to the way the people were. The purity of them, the devotion to cleanliness. They wouldn't drink water if there were impurities in it. They used polished wood plates and discarded any with cracks. They passed the plates, each person touching their lips as they did so.

  "Why do you touch your lips each time?" Melia asked. She always wanted to know answers. The man next to her said, "It is to give thanks to the Tree for the flavour the wood brings to the food."

  They nodded. Yet, when Melia questioned them further, another said, "It is to wipe Spikes from our lips. Take the disease away." They nodded at that, too.

  "Which is it?" Melia said. Their vagueness frustrated her.

  "It is to remind ourselves that food is the essence of life. We do not take the food for granted," said one woman, and they nodded again. Lillah touched Melia's arm. Leave it, now.

  Mugs of tea were passed out, ceremonial tea for strength and happiness. Lillah was used to the taste of Jasmine, now, and it didn't seem so strange to her.

  They drank the tea.

 

On their final night, they bathed in the sea, using salt to rub off the oil. Fresh water only for drinking, much to Melia's disgust. The teachers were used to the intensity of the smell by now. The children gathered to rub their scalps with jasmine, thread flowers through their hair.

  The Order gathered to farewell them. By now they avoided Melia: they thought she asked too many questions.

  A david-sapling was planted along the path by which they had entered.

  "That's for my baby," Corma said. "They plant a david-sapling for every one of us who leave. Some of those are for teachers. They plant a david-sapling a year after the teacher has left. Some of these david-saplings are there for babies who never existed, or who died, but they don't seem to see that. I think it's bad luck. I don't like it. I wish we could pull it up or something, but I don't want to risk offending them."

  "Try not to worry about it. You're going to an Order where they understand childbirth. A better place. You may not even come back." Lillah helped her stand.

  "They'll make me come back. You know that. There are other men here who have said they'll be fathers."

  She stretched in the sunlight. Lillah saw her belly as her shirt lifted up; broad, brown, stretched, it looked uncomfortable.

  Behind her a father appeared. "It's well past time. It will take you too long to reach Ailanthus if you don't leave soon. You don't want to birth in the sand, do you?"

  "She is testing her resolve," Melia said.

  "What is the point?" Lillah said.

  "You are one of the wise teachers," the father said. "Some teachers are wise. Not all. Some are chosen for strength, health, beauty or humour. You, I think, are wise."

  Lillah laughed, choosing not to be insulted.

 

The last night with her lover was odd. Lillah wasn't sure if she should be thanking him, or gifting him, and she realised this was something they hadn't been taught.

  He said, "You don't need to give me a gift. I'm sad you're leaving. I would have liked you to stay."

  "I would like to give birth in the place I choose as my home."

  "Yes. Then let's not talk with our mouths any more."

  As they left, they were each given a small jar of Jasmine cream for the pain of childbirth and of menstruation.

  Erica took hers greedily and asked for another. It was hard for Lillah to understand; she had never suffered that pain and always thought Erica was making a fuss for attention. The reaction of the women here showed her that this pain was a thing many women suffered.

 

The teller stood by the Tree, whispering events passed. Lillah wanted to know what he was saying, have the chance to tell the Tree what really happened. Could she do that in another Order?

 

As the school departed, there were no tears, not even from Morace. The children were excited to move on. Erica was so grateful for the pain cream she hugged everybody and smiled, rare behaviour for her.

  Corma and Hippocast stepped into place behind them. "Do you mind if we walk with you?"

  "Of course not. You are both walking?"

  "I am allowed as far as the next Order to see Corma safely there. Then I must come back," Hippocast said. He ran forward to walk with the children.

  "You don't need him to keep you safe. What are they thinking?"

  "He begged them to come and I think it's very nice of him," she said, turning her back.

  "Of course, of course, if you want him with you that's different! He seems to be a good man. They are all good men."

  As they walked, Lillah asked Corma to talk more about the jail in her home Order. "Are there others? We don't hear much about the jails."

  "I believe there are others, though I haven't seen any. They are modelled on ours, though."

  "And is it only people from your Order locked in one?"

  "No. I think they take people from along the Tree."

  "Tell me about it again."

  "Why? It's horrible."

  "I know. But sometimes I like to hear about the horrible."

  "They are small cages dangling over the water. They float, so that the criminal's feet, or some part of his body, are always in the water. They are given some food but they mostly catch fish and eat it raw. The only thing for them to do is to catch fish and watch the Order. It is a terrible punishment. They are isolated and lonely. They get sick from eating so much raw fish. Sometimes they get belly Spikes and then they have to be treated."

  "It sounds awful. But they do get to spend more time in the sun out there. That would help the sadness. And there has never been a fish with Spikes. We have not known one."

  "Nor have we. You will never be in a cage, don't worry."

  "Do you ever feel like swimming out to talk to one of them?"

  "Never. Who would do such a thing? One thing I've heard about Ailanthus is they know how to stop the bleeding."

  Lillah, while startled by the quick change of subject, said, "Magnolia bled all over the place. I collected an armful of spiderwebs and we stopped the bleeding with that."

  "You can't take the webs from spiders. Haven't you heard the story? A man was climbing the Tree to steal some tender shoots. He swept aside a giant spiderweb, that had caught in his fingers. He didn't care; he pushed more out of the way.

  "He stole the shoots, then tried to climb down.

  "He slipped and fell; this a man so surefooted he ran on the rock pools at tide down never slipping, as we all did.

  "The spiderwebs caught him. Hooray, you think. But no. They caught him around the neck in a stranglehold and no one could climb up to reach him. There he stayed.

  And he grew two extra arms, so he dangled like a giant spider until he rotted and fell to the roots."

  She ate some nuts. "You don't touch spiderwebs. Too much bad luck."

 

• • •

 

In her mapping, Lillah told the Tree:
Jasmine
smelling far too much, clever oiling from the flower, clever
thinking brain using fear of spiderwebs, danger for those
who have caught child.

  
Here, the Tree grows Jasmine, the leaves are dark and
the Bark is oily.

 
 
 

The trader from Aloes travelled with them, laden with jars of jasmine oil.

  "I'm not sure what you will make of the market we share with Ailanthus. The market holder is odd. He camps by the roots of the Tree, waiting for market time. He does nothing else. I am glad to be the trader, though. This walk, fifteen days, this is a good walk."

  The market was better built than the one between Ombu and Aloes. The market holder collected driftwood in his waiting time. He stained it orange by scraping some of the bright moss off the long Limbs bent towards the sun.

  He built shelves into the natural crevices of the trunk and here he stood goods of all kinds. Lillah recognised some of Ombu's jars, but it seemed he had items from everywhere in Botanica.

  Sea sponges, decorated plates, painted nutshells, necklaces, hair clips, perfect shells. The teachers and the children cooed over the treasures.

  The market holder and the trader did their business, then he leant back against the Tree, knees spread wide, his sulu tucked between his thighs. He smelled very sweet, not such as jasmine, but clean and fruity.

  "You live here all the time?" Melia asked.

  "Too many things to transport now. And I can't leave these things out for the monkeys."

  "Or the ghosts," Thea said.

  "There are no ghosts here. Not in this place. That's why I chose it."

  Thea pointed at a fissure beside him. "What about in there? That looks like a ghost cave to me."

  He turned. "No ghosts, teacher. You are safe here. Would you like to stay with me? It's a lonely life but a fine one."

  He smiled, his teeth large and blunt. Lillah was not sure if he was joking. "You are too old for any of us to choose you, market man," Thea said. "You are old and ugly and dull."

  Her anger surprised everyone. The market holder turned his mouth down. "I would like someone to stay with me."

  "You would soon tire of a companion," Lillah said.

  "Yes. You're right."

  Melia spoke to him, more questions and more, while the others looked at his goods.

  Morace stood by the fissure, arms stretched up, hands holding the sides of it. He leaned in, sniffing the air in there.

  "Morace!" Thea shouted. "Leave that alone. Leave the ghosts alone, you stupid child."

  "There are no ghosts," the market holder said.

  Borag squealed. "Don't go in! The ghosts will take you and put a ghost child in your place."

  Zygo rolled his eyes into his head and walked stiffly, his arms out, towards Morace. "I am deadbut-walking," he said. "I will steal your heart and feed it to the fishes. I will eat your mother and your father and I will spit their bones out all polished and white."

  Morace screamed. "Keep away from me!"

  The children were agitated. Tired. The teachers were warned this would happen once the excitement faded. "Does everyone have their smoothstones?" Erica called out. "Hold them in your hands, take comfort from them. Touching the smoothstone is stroking your mother's cheeks, being lifted by your father."

  "I don't have mine!" Borag said. Her voice was high with anxiety, disconnected somehow. "I dropped it!"

  "Maybe you put it in your bag. Or someone else picked it up."

  "Why would someone else pick it up?" Zygo said.

  Yet when they searched the bags, there it was in Zygo's things.

  "Somebody put it there!" he said.

  The teachers felt panic, unhappiness around the children.

  "Let's move on," Lillah said.

  "There are crabs ahead," the market holder said. "Too many for me to eat. Where you see the Tree hanging low in the water, you will find too many crabs to eat. They like rocks or limbs to crawl on. They don't mind bones, either. These are the tastiest crabs you will ever eat. They love to be eaten. They crawl along the sand with their claws and with their tiny voices they call out, 'eat me'!"

  The children leapt about with excitement, mimicking the talking crabs. Morace and Rham made them all laugh with their play; two crabs fighting over an old fish-head. Lillah smiled at the market holder, impressed at his knowledge of children and their humour.

  He said, "You know how good crabs are? Did you know that the ones which eat humans still taste like humans, they say."

  Corma nodded as if she knew all there was to know.