Walking the Tree (8 page)

  "Yes, yes," Logan said. "Come on, eat, then I have to get back to Magnolia and the baby."

  They walked together outside. Their father had set up a picnic amongst the roots of the Tree. Eggs, sliced boiled cassava, diced salted fish. He waited impatiently.

  "Sit down, sit down, hurry up. We need to eat. Magnolia needs us. That baby won't let her sleep."

  "Why don't we take breakfast to her?" Lillah said, piling egg and fish onto cassava. "Let's eat while she's feeding the baby."

  Lillah's father made himself a pile of food, too. "All right. I can't concentrate, thinking of what's going on."

  Already the wrens were hopping about pecking up crumbs, and the ants were lining up for their feast.

  "I think we'll let nature have the rest," her father said. He rose, dusted his lap.

  They heard a distant wail. Logan dropped his food and ran.

  "It always sounds worse when it's your own," Myrist said. "I'm sure the baby's fine." Nevertheless, they walked quickly. Myrist spoke, out of breath with the exertion. Lillah didn't feel it in the least. Training for school was intense.

  "Now, Lillah, you have a very exciting and challenging time ahead of you. The things you'll see will stay with you forever. We forget a lot of our schooling; the knowledge is there without us remembering exactly where it came from. But when you do the trip, as an adult, it is with you. You have the power to leave your name on many places in the Tree. You will see many people, meet many men. Not all you meet will love you. Some will want to hurt you. Be careful of those people. There are killers about. You have heard the stories from other teachers. Killers to be wary of."

  They reached the house. Logan fixed a drink for Magnolia. He said, "Should I be listening to this?"

  "You've just become a father. That's your great adventure."

  "It wasn't enough for our mother. Why will I be any different?"

  Lillah poked him. Her brother was a genius at turning the attention to himself.

  "Um, you two can talk about fatherhood once I'm gone. I want to hear Dad's true confessions."

  "I don't really have any true confessions. It's nice to see the children your mother taught grown up and starting to have children of their own. I re member every last one of them as children. Cleaned them up. I remember what they wouldn't eat. Helped me with you two a lot. You know, understanding how each child likes different dinners."

  "Mother always made the best dinners, didn't she?" Logan said.

  "Your mother was very clever. You're a good cook too."

  "Come on, Dad, tell more about what I should know. Teach me everything now. I can take it. Tell us about Mother's lovers," Lillah said.

  "You don't really want to hear that, I'm sure."

  "Come on, Dad. I'm not squeamish."

  "I'm squeamish. I'll just say this; you are in control. You have the power. Never say yes to anyone you dislike, and approach anyone you do like. Compatibility is obvious, even from the first kiss. Sometimes you'll kiss a man and your stomach will heave. Truly. I don't know if it's a smell they release, or a chemical reaction between the two of you, but it will be obvious. Some say it's because there is an unknown blood connection, that like blood abhors the smell of like blood. These ones you will push away."

  Lillah nodded. "Thea can't stand the smell of Dickson. Is that what you mean? So did you know when you kissed Mother?"

  "I did. All other thoughts left my mind and I knew this was it."

  Logan said, "You should ask about our Uncle Legum along the way. Perhaps he was washed up along the coast." He touched his ear.

  "I'll ask everywhere. Mother used to say he was so distraught when father married her he sailed out to sea on a huge piece of bark."

  "I thought she said he swam out?"

  "She told it differently every time."

  "Our stories change by the hour, don't they? Each new thing that happens to us changes the things that have happened to us before. Now I am a father, all my past experience seems different."

  Lillah took his hand. "You are a serious man now, Logan."

  "You'll understand what I mean before too long, Lillah. You will change."

  "Not me. I am who I am and that is set."

  They shared their breakfast with Magnolia. "Magnolia? Sorry, Magnolia?" Lillah whispered. "I'm going to school soon. Do you have a message for your people? I know we'll reach them. I'm looking forward to meeting them. Is there anything you want me to give them?"

  Magnolia opened her eyes a slit and waved her arm. "Logan?" she said. He jumped up.

  "I forgot. It's here. Somewhere. Wait there." He left the room and they could hear him thumping and swearing around the house. Magnolia and Lillah exchanged glances.

  Logan came back into the room carrying a small hessian bag. He held it up. "Got it!" he said. "She's so organised. She packed this long ago, Lillah."

  "How heavy is it?"

  Logan passed it to her. "Not very."

  Lillah took it, weighing it in her hands. "I should be able to carry that."

  Magnolia sat up, breastfeeding. It still hurt her sometimes, and Logan hated to watch. Magnolia said, "If I don't breastfeed him he'll be treated differently. Logan, now bring the parcel I've saved from the Number Taker."

  He returned with a roll of paperbark. "Is this it?"

  "That's it. Lillah, I have here writing-bark. The Number Taker gave this piece to me, hoping that I would begin to map the country. Map the island, Botanica. I didn't do it, though. I was too eager to play and I didn't take it seriously. Will you take on the job? Will you mark the map?"

  Lillah took the paper. She had never felt the stuff before and she liked it. Her fingers itched to begin.

  "I will do it, Magnolia. I will try, at least." She would map, Lillah decided. She would keep track of all she saw, of how each Order differed. She would try to understand, to contain, the Orders of the Tree.

  Myrist joined them, saying, "If you're taking gifts, please, you'll be passing through your mother's Order. You'll see her. She left for her walk two years ago; she would be there long by now. Give her my love, and give her this as well. You know we found each other when I went walking with my school, don't you? We knew then that we would find each other again."

  He handed her a beautifully carved necklace, one piece of wood crafted into links.

  "It's beautiful."

  Her father began to cry softly. "I wish she hadn't gone for the walk home. I wish she'd stayed."

  "I wish she'd stayed also. She was a wonderful person."

  "She still is, Lillah. You better go make your preparations. You will need to begin your bath."

  They entered Logan's kitchen, and for a few blinks they worked, cleaning and tidying. Lillah touched the things lingeringly; the pots, the utensils, the containers. She would not see these things again, most likely. She would take on another's household items. There was no room to take it with her. A few select items. Not the clay pot that had been in her father's family for generations. That she would miss the most. It would not be possible to carry one with her. The smallest crack would render it useless as a cooking vessel. Some of the pots were very old, had been used over many years.

  "Your mother used to say the only thing she felt sorry about was the women friends she made and had to say goodbye to. You can only communicate for so long using the messenger, then people move on, get busy."

  "I will always send messages back," Lillah said. "I will map the Tree, too. I will map the shape of Botanica."

  "She learnt about food on her journey. From her home Order, Rhado, she brought knowledge of how to grill meat and keep it tender. In Bayonet they taught her how to grind nuts and coat a piece of fish. In Chrondus she discovered the secret of stuffing fruit into more fruit and poaching it in honey."

  "Now I'm hungry again," Lillah said.

  "I've got some lovely fruit drying out there. The taste of the sun will warm you when you're on the dark side of the Tree. You will need to keep your wits about you. Don't be fooled by a pretty face and an easy wit. You dabble and play as much as you like, my dear, so long as it is your choice. Never let anyone decide for you; always follow your own instincts and desires. And stay clean. Wash yourself often. Use the wood soap. It will keep you healthy. And never make do. There will be someone for you, and if you make do you might miss him. And… I have so much to tell you." Her father breathed heavily, too many words.

  Lillah felt sudden sharp pain at leaving him.

  "Will you be all right? You seem sad."

  Logan put his arm around Myrist. "I am here, Lillah. It isn't all up to you."

  Lillah smiled. "You are a good brother."

  Lillah almost leapt away from the house, as if the tie that kept her there had been released. She felt free, unburdened, young.

  The feeling did not last long. She was summoned by the Birthman.

  "My wife needs to speak to you. It's about Morace."

   Lillah did not like being too close to Rhizo, Morace's mother, but she tried to conceal her distaste from Morace. It would not do to have him think his mother frightened people. He was unconscious of smell and her look.

  Lillah breathed through her mouth in the small room. For some reason (probably Rhizo, it was the sort of thing she would do) they kept fresh air and light out of their home. Windows tightly shut, covered with the sort of thick material not often seen. Blanket material, precious for keeping people warm at night. The beeswax candles were bright, casting sharp, strange shadows at all hours. Lillah hated to feel enclosed.

  Morace's mother sat in a wooden chair, smiling. She said, "He's got his bag packed. All the things you need for a night away from mother." Lillah stared at her, mouth open. The parents were supposed to prepare the children so the tears could flow before school began. There would always be tears as school left; Lillah remembered crying herself. Melia had not cried and thus set herself up as the strong one.

  "Morace, why don't you go out and choose your smoothstone, now. Something to make you think of home. You'll know it when you pick it up. It will sit in your hand and calm you," Lillah said. She smiled at the echo of her father's words of comfort about choosing a mate.

  Morace jumped up, excited. His hair was plastered to his head, greasy. His mother didn't let him swim in the ocean. She thought it would make him sick. Lillah couldn't wait to see the boy swimming, bathing. He would be more popular once he was clean.

  "Morace!" his mother said. "A kiss!" He came back and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll only be gone for a few blinks, Mother," he said.

  She sighed as he left. "I'm still not sure we should send him," she said. "I think I can teach him just as well at home." Lillah looked around at the closedoff room.

  She said, "He'll learn nothing here." As the words came out, she realised they were terribly harsh. "I'm sorry. But school is so vast. Physically, it gives them the basis to be strong adults. And he would never learn all he will learn about the Orders of the Tree, and our history, sitting here protected by you. It's one of the things that keep us peaceful, the understanding of the children of other cultures. It is a leap of faith to send our children out. We understand that. A sacrifice of those years with your child for the good of Botanica. So that children will grow up knowing people everywhere, and will be less inclined to plan hurt against people they have known."

  The mother blinked. Her face reddened, and Lillah felt frightened. This woman was, after all, a mother, albeit a seemingly weak one. Lillah stood up. "I'm sorry I made you angry," she said. "But if you expect him to marry, he needs to go away to school. No girl would choose a boy without experience of the Tree. That's just how it is."

  Rhizo stood up. She stepped over to Lillah and took hold of her wrist. She leaned close and Lillah tried not to recoil from the smell of her breath.

  "I'm going to tell you something, Lillah. This is a deathly, deathly secret. Can I trust you?"

  Lillah nodded, but she wasn't sure. Already she was thinking of how she would tell Melia this story.

  "Everyone thinks we smell because we don't wash," Rhizo said. Lillah laughed in embarrassment, then covered her mouth.

  "Sorry," she said.

  Rhizo smiled. It lifted her face for just a moment. "I know that's what people think, and I don't care. I want them to think that, Lillah. Because it keeps them from seeing the truth."

  The woman sat down again. "Bring us tea," she called. Her husband Pittos, the Birthman, stepped into the room. Strange how shy he seemed when he wasn't working.

  From the day they married, he had quietened. Rhizo came from an Order where people liked to be quiet, which made the whole Order quieter. People said she had married him for his loudness, but then hated him for it. He had learnt to speak in a whisper.

  "Tea and something sweet," he said. Lillah thought he was the kind of man she wanted to choose. Though she wouldn't quieten him.

  "Yes, nice," Rhizo said. "I'm going to tell Lillah."

  "Are you sure?"

  She nodded. "I can trust you, can't I, Lillah? I would tell the fathers, but they are not the ones going with him."

  "So you will send him?" Lillah said.

  "Well, I have to. If he's got any chance. I can't keep him here."

  "So what's the secret?" Lillah said. Rhizo closed her eyes. "I think I'm sick, Lillah. Very sick. I have terrible pain, now, in my lungs and my stomach. Nothing will help it. I've tried jasmine in all its forms, camomile; I've tried everything I ever heard about, anything the teachers brought with them. I don't know if it's Spikes, if it's catching. The others aren't sick. It's just I'm worried. If I die when Morace is away, what will happen to him? If they decide I am contagious. What will they do?"