Walking the Tree (4 page)

  "Haven't we always welcomed newcomers and teachers? That's how we'll be welcomed. Come with us and see. If you really can't bear it, you won't choose a mate and you'll walk home again."

  Thea shook her head. "I have to be somewhere they don't know about the drowning. I have to start again, as me, not as the one who drowned the children."

  Thea was called in to the fathers. Lillah, her head near the window, could hear most of the interview.

  "I just don't know how I'll manage without Mother and Father. I'll never see them again," Thea told them.

  "Thea, this is your obligation. The birth rate is low all around the Tree and you must play your part. There is no choice in the matter. If chosen, you will be with Lillah and Melia. Your home will be wherever you are with your friends and the children in your care. Then at last you will find a man to love and you will stop and have children of your own."

  Thea was a very tall, solid woman. She sat uncomfortably on the floor, her knees pointing upwards. Her hair was long and she wore it in plaits, as if she wanted to cling on to childhood and not take on the responsibilities of an adult. "You have talent and strength to share," Erica's father said. "You are our strongest swimmer."

  She loved to swim and was very fast. When someone spotted flotsam out at sea, often she didn't wait to see if it would come in to shore. She would swim out to it, rope around her waist to tow it back again. A carved plank of wood which once told a story but was now blurred. A pot with a strange sticky substance inside. A box with odd skin-like straps nobody wanted to touch.

  "I would be happy to do that forever; swimming out to find treasures. I don't think I'll make a good mother."

  The fathers sighed. "Any more reasons you shouldn't go?" one said.

  Thea smiled. "I'm sure I can think of a dozen more." She looked hopeful; maybe they would let her stay behind. "Did you know I can't see very well? There's something wrong with my eyes. I'm not healthy enough to breed. I'm a defect. And I'm too big for a woman. We don't want that passed on."

  The fathers were unmoved by her plea.

  "You are the strongest, healthiest woman we've had in a long time. It is your duty to pass on those genes."

  "There is no place for you here, now. You have to move on so another young woman can stay. This is how our world must work. We cannot have children born of two people close in geography or blood. You know that."

  One of the other fathers had not yet spoken. He coughed now. "I am of the opinion that you are not a worthy teacher. You have shown us you are not capable of keeping children safe. You have, perhaps, shown us that you dislike children and do not think they deserve to be safe. I am of the opinion that you should stay here. It is our obligation to keep the flawed at home."

  Thea sobbed. "No! I did all I could for those children! They drowned despite all I did to save them."

  There was silence.

  "You may go, Thea," Agara's father said.

  Thea slumped. She crawled out of the Tree Hall, blubbering. Dickson and Tax, her brothers, hovering outside the circle, came to put their arms around her.

  Lillah hoped she wouldn't take her depression along with her; it would make school very dull.

  "Good luck," Melia said.

  "Aren't you next?"

  "They've spoken to me already." She shrugged. "It was okay. Terrifying, but okay. It's when they look at each other. I get nervous and start talking too much. Don't talk too much. Don't fill the blanks in. They know it all, anyway."

  Lillah nodded. "All right." She stepped into the Tree Hall. With just the fathers inside it was a comfortable place to be. Usually there were too many people, too crowded, too close, not enough air. She hated that confinement, could feel it sucking the air from her blood.

  The fathers sat drinking tea, talking. There was silence when Lillah entered.

  "Well?" said one, after many blinks had passed. "We are waiting for the news. What of Magnolia and her baby?"

  Lillah relaxed. They would try to frighten her, be aggressive, but all of it was a test. None of it was real. They were faking it to see how she would react. These men had fed her, bathed her, tended her wounds, comforted her.

  "It's a baby boy, he's fine, he's already fed."

  The men murmured and smiled at this news. A baby who did not take that first feed would be trouble for the Order. Especially a male baby.

  Lillah felt pleased for Magnolia that she and her baby had managed this first thing. Male babies who fed poorly were considered unhealthy and not expected to lead long or fulfilling lives.

  "And Magnolia? The bleeding?"

  Lillah nodded. "When I left the bleeding had stopped and she was sleeping."

  "Her cheeks? What colour were her cheeks?"

  "Pink. Quite pink when I left." The murmurs again, and laughter. Lillah felt a sense of ownership, pride, as if as messenger she owned, had created, the good news. "She seems frightened, though. Nervous."

  Agara's father, a strong-voiced, kind man said, "So many of our babies die in the first day. She doesn't want her baby to die. Now, Lillah, we have a report about your behaviour."

  He is so arrogant. He is trying to frighten me, Lillah thought. Let them explain. Don't apologise or speak before I know what they're talking about. Is this about shouting at my father? Did they hear that Dickson tried to kiss me? Or is it about throwing away scraps of food because I'm too lazy to mince and compost them? Any of the small things she did in a day could be up for discussion.

  Lillah let the silence sit, until Thea's father laughed.

  "You're certainly good at holding your tongue when you want to," he said. "That is a talent, Lillah, which may help you in the future. You must be careful not to silence your true self, though. So many of us ignore our inner voices in trying to please those around us, and we can lose our individuality. I would hate to see you lose your character, Lillah. You must pick a partner with whom you can be your true self, but also a man strong enough to speak the truth himself. It will be very easy to choose somebody who worships you; you will find this wherever you go. You don't want to be a precious stone, untouchable, Lillah. You want to be a leader and you will be a great leader if you find a strong partner who is not frightened to tell you when you are wrong."

  Lillah had to strain to concentrate because the words meant to her that she had been selected, even without the interview.

  "Thank you," Lillah said at last. "Thank you. I will not ignore what you say. But can I choose someone handsome?"

  The fathers laughed. "All want a handsome man, Lillah," Tilla said. "What will you seek beyond that? Do you have anything to you beyond what we see before us?"

  Lillah felt tears prick her eyes. Tilla was an old man, his children grown, and a good friend to her. He made her laugh, helped her view the world honestly. Why was he being cruel to her now?

  Dickson entered the hall and walked to the fathers.

  "You should not be here, Dickson. This is not your place."

  "I have a report to give. Pittos has asked me to come."

  He spoke with the fathers as Lillah watched, her heart beating. She felt sure he was not saying anything good about her.

  He stepped away, pursed his lips at Lillah, and left the hall.

  The fathers conferred.

  Then Tilla rose, took her hand. "Lillah, we have learnt a lot more about you from the way you handled yourself in your sister-in-law's birthing room than we would ever learn from hearing what you think we want to hear."

  Lillah's eyes opened wider and she looked at the fathers. She felt guilty; she had underestimated them. They were not ego-driven at all; they were full of the spirit of the Order.

  "I hope I didn't offend anyone when I asked them to leave Magnolia's room," Lillah said. "But there was no air, and it was too hot. They needed to go. There was too much pity, they thought she was going to die and wanted to be the first to offer sympathies and hold the poor motherless baby."

  "You were right. You did it beautifully." Melia's father stood up and drew her into a hug. "The young men need to pass their judgements next. We will discuss placings tomorrow and the circle will meet at dawn on the day after that."

  Lillah joined her friends in the small home they shared. "Do you think we will all be chosen? Melia, of course you are a teacher."

  "So long as the young men approve," Melia said, smiling.

  Lillah span around joyfully. Her skirt flared out from her thighs then softly rested back. Her skin felt so sensitive, so ready for touch.

  Lillah wondered if Magnolia had felt this elation when chosen as a teacher in her own Order.

 

The girls giggled as they prepared for the young men. They wore the lightest of their clothes, shirts carefully woven from strands of leaves. They coloured their nipples, showing them off. Men associated good breasts with good mothering.

  The community gathered by the Tree Hall, resting from work and looking forward to the show. The young men, keen for their chance to be the centre of attention, preened and strutted, making people laugh. Then Melia's father called, "The girls are ready. Everybody sit."

  A seriousness dropped over them all. This was one of the moments that identified a group. Who would they send? Would they send the right teachers, keep the right girls at home?

  The girls knew how important this was and were excited by it as well. Melia went first, walking through the young men, staring them in the eyes and smiling as she had never smiled at them before. The others followed; Lillah found it hard not to laugh. It felt ridiculous. The young men enjoyed it, though. They liked to feel they had some power. They felt that if they sent their best women away, other men would send their best women to them.

  It was hard to take these young men seriously at first. They had grown up together, played games together. But Lillah found herself aroused by the process. Her nipples hardened as the young men stared at her, and she raised her arms and swayed. Catching Dickson's eye brought her back to reality.

  This was the only time they would act as seducers. As they travelled, it would be up to the men to seduce them.

  The young men left to talk together in their home, a low, neat shelter they shared at times. The young women, exhilarated, danced around in the shallow, warm puddles of low tide. Melia draped seaweed on her head and tossed it around like long hair. Thea stepped clumsily about, wanting to join in but not knowing how. Even Erica, her wispy hair loose, danced and span.

  Agara's father called to them. "Girls, we are preparing to feast around Logan's house to welcome the baby and I imagine your help is needed over there. You go now, Lillah. Your cooking will help your father."

  Lillah knew her cooking skills outshone the other girls. Her mother had been a famed cook.

  Thea caught up with her. "Can I come and see the baby?"

  They ran together.

  Logan swept the veranda surrounding the place.

  He whistled, dancing with the broom. Lillah watched him, her heart filled with air at his happiness. His love for Magnolia, his joy at not losing her.

  "Hey, Daddy!" Lillah said. Logan saw her and dropped the broom. He ran to her, picked her up and span her around. Thea looked at the floor.

  "Isn't it wonderful?" he said. "I can't believe it. Just the matter of a few cups of blood. A few cups of blood more and I would have lost her."

  Lillah squeezed him. "We're very lucky," she said. They heard voices: the people were arriving with dishes to share.

 

Magnolia slept. Her breath was less ragged and the baby was beginning to wriggle in his small wooden cradle. Lillah's father had made the cradle for Logan and Lillah to sleep in when they were born; it was very precious to them. Carved from one large piece of wood, he had spent the whole of Olea's pregnancy making it, carving pictures and stories. Many babies since had used the cot. As Lillah helped her father clean it in preparation for Logan's baby, he had spoken of how dear she had looked sleeping in it.

   "Hungry again," Pittos said, back in attendance after a break. He smiled over the baby. "He can wait a while this time. Lillah, I need you to run out for me again. We need fallen bark. Dry stuff, if you can find it."

  Magnolia began to stir as the baby whimpered. "Is he okay?" Magnolia asked. "Don't tell me. You will take him anyway, but I don't want to know."

  "What is she saying?" Lillah felt nervous of Magnolia's weak tone.

  "In some Orders they take a malformed baby and hang it off the Tree as a warning against love with someone too close in your line. We don't do that here, Magnolia. We accept deformities as part of growth. But your baby is perfect. I have not seen a boy so lovely in many years. Sturdy legs, strong voice, good will. You have done well."

  "And a baby's death is part of growth as well?" Magnolia said. She kept count of them, the numbers. She liked numbers.

  Magnolia started to twist in her bed, crying out. Logan came to stand beside her, his arms drooped, his fingers flicking as if he wanted to do something but couldn't think of the right thing.

  The baby began to cry more loudly.

  "Some Bark, Lillah," Myrist said.

  Lillah found a bowlful and carried it back to Pittos, who shredded it in the bowl then squeezed a musky oil over it. He placed the bowl in a corner.

  "It will send a good smell into the air and absorb the bad ones," Pittos said. "And now I must take my leave. My wife wants me home."

 

Borag, one of the youngest children who would travel with the school, stood waiting in the kitchen. Lillah banged ingredients onto the bench to make a healthy soup.