Walking the Tree (43 page)

  She stood close to the trunk and watched the Order of Laburnum. In this place the roots came out of the ground, reaching up and bending over with the huge, head-like flowers. Once these turned brown, they were removed and turned into perfume.

  She watched as they threw wine at the Tree, hollering, their tongues making their voices vibrate. It was a sacrifice, though nothing like that she'd seen elsewhere around the Tree.

  They sat in the Tree roots and the Tale-teller told of the burning Tree, the same story Lillah had heard so many times, so many variations. She knew now that story was a telling of Spikes, that they were warnings against disease and foretelling of the end of Botanica.

  All Orders had these tales.

  She smelt the sap flowing and saw them rubbing it into their hair, their eyes white in their heads.

 

In her mapping, Lillah told the Tree:
They tell the
tales we tell all over the Tree.

Here, the Tree grows as it always did. The sap flows.

  Lillah waited until night, until all was quiet, then she stepped away from the trunk. She carried very little. Her wooden necklace was in her bag. Some clothing she never wanted to see again. Stones. Small mementoes she had picked up along the way.

  She walked.

  She loved the feeling of air on her skin, the smell of moisture in the air. She had missed this, inside, where every day was the same.

  Lillah passed the market. She had forgotten the seaweed stench of this area. It was worse, though. Thicker. Deeper. The seaweed was sludgy beneath her feet and she considered climbing into the Tree, walking through the labyrinthine tunnels and roots to get home.

  It would take too long, though, and she was very anxious now to get home.

  She walked.

 

As she rounded the rock, knowing she was almost home, her step faltered. She wondered if they would know her, or if they thought her long dead and a ghost.

  She could see people working by the water and in the roots, but she didn't recognise them. Her eyes were used to close distances and she couldn't see the faces, the details. She felt suddenly desperate to see those faces and she ran, loving the strength in her legs built from climbing and walking.

  She saw a young woman bent over a bench, cutting fish carefully.

  It was one the children, grown. Borag.

  "Borag! Borag!"

  Borag put down her net and looked up, shielding her eyes. She pointed.

  Lillah walked closer. "Borag! It's me! It's Lillah!"

  "Teacher! Teacher! Lillah!" Borag screamed. She ran to Lillah and they embraced. She was taller than Lillah and had a deep voice, full of laughter.

  "Still the cook, Borag?"

  "I am! I plan to be the best cook who ever travelled the Tree."

  "You will be." Lillah thought briefly of her mother, also a travelling cook, a grudging sharer. She wondered if her father would like to know the truth of his wife's death, or if she should say nothing.

  "You look so skinny and pale, Lillah! Where have you been?"

  Suddenly exhausted, Lillah embraced Borag again. "Let's gather the others and we can share the stories together. Where is everyone?"

  Borag waved her hands. "All over. Let's walk over to your father and they will gather. Look, there's Zygo! Zygo! It's Lillah returned!"

  Zygo, handsome and tall, was fishing. He carefully laid his net beyond the tide line and walked to Lillah. She was struck by his maturity, by the powerful way he held himself. He took her hands. "We thought you'd died. Morace said you disappeared in the Tree."

  "Morace? He made it home?" Lillah was nervous about seeing Morace. They had been through so much together; he owed her so much, yet she didn't want to be paid back. She worried that it would affect their relationship.

  "Yes, yes, he caught up with us. He is well, Lillah. Very well. I am very happy to see you alive."

  "And you, Zygo. And you. You must be looking for a wife soon."

  He turned away. "Not you too!"

  Borag said, "Everyone asks him. He says he is not sure he wants a wife but no one will listen to him."

  Lillah heard a shout and turned to see Morace running towards her. He stopped short as he reached her, and they looked at each other for a long time. She drew him to her, and they held each other, speechless.

  "You're so handsome, Morace. Look at you. Strong! You look so well."

  "I am well. I will always be well. I feel so much responsibility to make my life worthwhile. You saved it; I must make it worthy."

  "You just need to live it, Morace. Though I would appreciate some help once I get older!"

  The others began to talk at once. They seemed like children again, these young adults.

  "How did it feel to come home?" Lillah said. "When you came upon Ombu. What did it feel like?"

  "As we rounded the rocks, we knew we were almost home. We were on our side of the island. We told each other, 'We're nearly home.' Morace cried, didn't you, Morace?" Borag said.

  "We all cried, you know. It had been five years without our families. And I knew my mother would not be there to greet me."

  Zygo interrupted, saying, "But Lillah, tell us about you. You survived the ghosts. How did you? We thought the ghosts had taken you. Erica sent news that one of their men had been taken. That man Sapin. A dead-but-walking came out and took him. We said he deserved it. Don't you remember how they killed that dead-but-walking? I have never forgotten. You are lucky you didn't stay with him, Lillah. He was not a good man. He was worse than the men of Douglas."

  "He was a good man. That was their way, Zygo. Didn't you learn that on the walk? That each place has their way, and their way doesn't make them bad?" Lillah turned away. Sapin dead? The deadbut-walking had never been aggressive before. Her thoughts of Sapin were ruined, now. She wondered what the real story was. If perhaps one of the other men had killed Sapin and blamed it on the dead-but-walking. She could not imagine the evolved insiders killing.

  "He is worse than the ghosts on the inside."

  "There are no ghosts in there. There are people like us."

  There was silence. They looked at each other, wondering how she could say such a thing. She saw that she would need to tell a lot of tales for the truth to be known.

  "And speaking of family," she said, suddenly breathless. "MY family! I must see them, now now now!" The children laughed at her.

  She felt such joy, deep joy at the thought of seeing Logan, her dear, dear brother, her greatest friend. Unbetrayed.

  She said, "My brother. I must see my brother, and Magnolia, and the baby."

  Laughter at that.

  "Time didn't stand still while you were gone," Morace said. "There is no longer a baby!"

  Logan and his family were fishing off the seawalk. Lillah walked out to meet them and as she did it was like eight years dropped away. She remembered walking this wood, the splinters, the way the air changed as you walked to sea. She had seen so much since then, done so much.

  "Logan," she said. Her voice carried away seagull-wise; a cawing, loud shouting over the top of her soft missing voice.

  "Logan," louder, more excited, and he heard this time. Measured, he handed the rod to a small child. The boy she had seen born would be at school. Eight years old. This one was only five or six.

  "Lillah." They embraced. Both knew this was a rare moment. So few siblings shared this.

  "Lillah." It was Magnolia, so happy, her face the same with a few lines, so like her brother.

  Logan said, "We thought you were one of those old women, as you approached. The walking women."

  "No, I'm not that old, thank you! Is that all you can say to me?"

  He punched her lightly on the arm. "Still a fussy little sister, I see. That hasn't changed."

  She embraced him again, and this time they held each other until tears came.

  "Come on," Magnolia said. "Let's go to your father. And you must be hungry. Let's eat something."

  The little girl at her feet tugged her skirt. "I'm hungry." She picked her up.

  "This is your niece, Aralia. Her brother is off at school, isn't he, Aralia?"

  Aralia hid behind her mother's legs. "She will be over being shy soon and you will not be able to get rid of her!" Magnolia said.

  "She's beautiful," Lillah said.

  Magnolia put her hand on Lillah's belly. "No child there?"

"I am without child. I'll be an outcast here."

  Magnolia shook her head. "You'll live with us. We have a big house now, and room for plenty.

   "What about Morace? Where does he live? I didn't ask him."

  "He's with your father."

  "Not his own father?"

  "The Birthman became bitter and difficult after his wife died. He wants nothing to do with Morace and could not see the miracle of his return."

  "And our father doesn't mind?"

  "Why should he mind? Morace is a pleasant and amusing young man. At the same time, he is training to be the next Birthman, so Rhizo's husband must have contact with him. Come on, let's go see your father."

  "He'll be so happy, Lillah," Logan said. As they walked, he said quietly, "Did you get my message?"

  "I did. You wanted to know how it felt to stay the same. By which you meant, I know you have changed. And of course you were right. We are all changed by even the smallest experience. We cannot stay the same no matter how hard we try. Did you get my message?"

  "I got yours, too. You made me very proud."

 

Her father stood quietly, building a sturdy chair.

  "Father!" she called. He looked only a year or two older, not an old man at all.

  "Lillah! Oh, Lillah!" He carefully put down his tools – he would never drop them – and held out his arms.

  To be held by her father was the most comforting, safest feeling she had ever had.

 

As they ate, Lillah said, "I know what happened to my mother."

  She waited. Her father looked at the high branches of the Tree, as if seeking comfort. "What can you tell me?"

  "She didn't stop at Rhado. They were unpleasant there. Unwelcoming. She walked on." She touched her ear. "Walked on. Until she reached Alga. Do you remember walking through there as a child?"

  He shook his head.

  "They are good people." She touched her ear again. "Here, she was happy. For a short while. And in her happiness, she died. Of that I am certain."

  Myrist nodded again, staring unblinking at the Tree. "I am glad to hear that she was happy. That someone could make her happy."

  "She was happy with us, Father. But she needed more. Some of us do. We need more than the small life we are given."

  Morace joined them, standing happily, quietly, nearby.

  "And your brother Legum. He is legendary. He is known as the man who travelled away on a raft and was never seen again. Some say he is living on Spirit Island. Some say he found some new place and has started a family there. One community said he came back."

  "To them?"

  Lillah looked away. "They say he came back, his bones picked clean by the birds."

  "How like him," Myrist said, though he did not say how.

  After the meal, Lillah wandered around the home she never thought she would see again. She saw the wooden doll she had carved while walking with the school. Up high, pride of place. Looking at it, she felt as if a stranger had carved it.

  Myrist said, "You and Morace should go to see Pittos. He is lonely."

  "He only sees me to pass on instruction. He doesn't talk to me like he used to," Morace said.

  "What about when you came home? Wasn't he happy to see you?" Lillah asked.

  "He was, at first. But somehow he has become more and more angry."

  They went together to Pittos.

  "Lillah. I heard you were back. Thank you for keeping Morace safe."

  "It took some doing. I am pleased to have done it, though. Are you happy to have him?" When he didn't respond, Lillah put her hand on the man's shoulder. "Do you miss Rhizo? Are you lost without her?"

  "She was not a good woman. Yet she was mine."

  "You are whole without her. And Morace misses you."

  "Morace is busy."

  "He misses you."

  The Birthman turned his back. "I will see him at the birth of Dickson's child. He will assist me then."

  "Dickson! I haven't seen him yet."

  "You go. I am busy."

  "We heard some terrible news when we travelled. About Dickson and a child. How he kept her in a cave until she died."

  The Birthman turned to face her again. "Strange. What strange news. We did have a terrible tragedy here, but Dickson did all he could. It was a student, only fourteen years old. It seems that one of the men of Laburnum took her. That's what they said. The child came to us, without her school. She had caught child. Dickson cared for her in one of the Tree caves, bringing her food and making her feel safe. From all accounts she was cared for well. But she died in childbirth, and the child did as well. We were all there. We all saw it. He did all he could and so did I. Messengers can not always be believed."

  Lillah felt great relief to hear this, though also anger at the message they had received which had caused them grief in Gulfweed.