Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2) Read online

  Clair said that the Felluns were their neighbours. A long time ago they had stolen the rivers from the lands all around. Then they stole the people.

  ‘You mustn’t worry,’ she said, and looking at her face it was difficult to worry. ‘We did a service for the Felluns all those years ago and they promised to leave our land alone. They like to bully us but we are useful: we give them medicines.’

  ‘They said your medicines was poison,’ said Alas.

  ‘They poison themselves with their food,’ said Ede. ‘Without our medicines they would all have lockjoint or gas belly.’

  ‘Mint would never poison them,’ said Oy. Ede raised her brows questioningly. ‘Mint – good for gas belly.’ Oy faltered. ‘I... I think.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Clair, looking at him closely.

  ‘What do you give them for lockjoint?’ he said, shyly.

  ‘It depends what type it is,’ said Clair, ‘but mostly a mix of limbud and cordease – do you know those flowers?’

  Oy dropped his eyes and shook his head.

  ‘Same thing happened with our old cook,’ said Gritty. ‘When Oy tried to cure her leg pains she said he was poisoning her.’

  ‘Some folks can’t take help that says you’re cleverer’n they are,’ said Linnet wisely.

  Clair seemed amused.

  ‘You were saying, about the Felluns,’ said Alas.

  ‘You need never meet them,’ said Ede. ‘They don’t come quietly and we have signals, humming sounds.’

  ‘The bee noise we heard in the haystack?’ said Gertie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Clair. ‘It’s a sound the Felluns can’t hear. It’s good that you can. There’s different signals to tell you when they are coming, where they are and when they are gone. The Felluns don’t move fast or see far. When you hear the first signal you’ll have time to hide. Nondula is full of secret places.’

  ‘We done enough hiding in our lives,’ said Alas.

  ‘It wasn’t our fault,’ said Linnet. ‘We weren’t criminals or anything. I don’t mind hiding once in a while if that hunger dog stays where he is right now.’

  ‘Snoring in a corner,’ said Gertie.

  3 A New Home

  As the waifs left the dell they heard one long and one short wave of humming. Ede said it meant that the Felluns had gone. She pointed out the main path to the Sajistry and the hidden way. Alas asked to go by the hidden way so they passed through cracks and caves and tunnels till they came to a room shaped like a hollowed out mountain pinnacle. The walls converged in darkness somewhere far above them. Water trickled down through beards of weed. Mosaics tracked across the rocky floor. People passed carrying books. Most of them had Ede’s colouring, the violet eyes and coppery hair. Only a few were like Clair. When they saw the waifs they printed light smiles on them but they did not stop. One man was left to greet them.

  This man was of a different mould. His eyes were perfectly round, his pink scalp showed through hair like spun sugar and he had tiny whorls for ears. Over one ear was a spiral shell.

  ‘This is Emberd, the librarian.’ Ede directed her voice at the shell and told him as much as she knew of the waifs and their history. ‘They speak the common,’ she added, ‘Chee-style.’

  ‘Storm-dropped children. Well, well. How do you do?’ said Emberd. ‘Is that still the common greeting? I don’t get out much you know.’ He hitched the sleeve of his robe and offered his hand.

  ‘You’re a librarian!’ Gertie said with starry admiration. ‘Gertie Garnet. I’m very pleased to meet you, sir.’ She shook his hand and the others did the same.

  ‘I’d like to stay, Ede, but I just heard that Per is down and I really must speak to him.’

  Ede put one hand on Linnet’s shoulder and the other on Oy’s. She looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder, would Per give them a reading?’ she said.

  ‘If they’d like to come with me, we can only ask,’ said Emberd.

  ‘Go on,’ Ede urged them. ‘It’s a great chance for you. Per will read you better than anyone.’

  ‘I ain’t being tret like some book,’ said Alas. ‘Anyone tries to read me, I stay closed.’

  If Emberd heard he gave no sign. ‘We’ll go by the blue and we might catch him,’ he said. They followed the blue mosaic under the arch. ‘The Sajistry is mazy, but the tiles will always lead you back here.’

  ‘Wish they’d put these in sewers,’ said Oy.

  ‘You’re done with sewers,’ said Linnet.

  ‘Come on you two, stop lagging.’ Gertie parted Oy and Linnet. She took Linnet’s hand and hurried her along.

  ‘He’s there, see him? Per, Per,’ Emberd called. ‘Oh dear, I think he’s leaving us already. Always the danger. No, wait, he’s coming back.’

  Per turned but gave no sign that he had seen them. He walked with bowed head and downcast eyes, placing each foot in exact relation to the mosaic trail. The waifs approached as though they were creeping up on a sleep walker. When they were close they stopped. Per also stopped. He regarded the pairs of feet before him. After a while it seemed to occur to him that feet led to whole people and he raised his head.

  What a face. How very alive it was. It flickered. His face had the hollows of age but not the lines. His hair was silver silk with a copper sheen on the crown, and his eyes were like white flowers. They pressed forward to meet him.

  ‘Per,’ said Emberd. ‘These young travellers came in on the Merroco – the sea wind.’ He recited their names.

  The flower eyes rested on them.

  ‘Would you be so good, Per, as to read their jenies?’ said Emberd.

  ‘Children,’ said Per. ‘I will read your jenies but before you start on that path you must promise to do something.’

  ‘Course,’ said Gertie. ‘We don’t want something for nothing. We’ll pay our way if we can.’

  ‘Gert, don’t go agreeing to nothing till we know what it is,’ said Alas.

  ‘Will you go and play?’ said Per.

  ‘Play?’ said Gertie.

  ‘Yes, you must play before you take up your jenies.’

  ‘Don’t know if we know how exactly,’ said Gritty.

  ‘I’d like to try,’ said Linnet.

  ‘Good,’ said Per. ‘Take plenty of time to play. Now I’m told you’d like some readings.’

  ‘I didn’t ask for no reading,’ said Alas.

  The lights in Per’s face retreated.

  ‘We ain’t generally rude, sir.’ Gertie scowled at Alas. ‘I’d like a reading more than anything. I’m ready.’

  Per chuckled. ‘Come closer then.’ He took her hand and studied her face. Gertie looked as though she were being tickled and was trying not to laugh. ‘Books,’ he said. ‘You have an affinity for books.’

  ‘Oh yes, sir. Read ’em, write ’em, clean ’em, touch ’em, smell ’em, furbish ’em; any or all of them things, sir, would make me the happiest person alive.’

  ‘There’s more,’ said Per. ‘Symbols: they sleep as yet.’

  Gertie’s brows were drawn in an effort to understand. ‘I don’t know what you mean, sir, but I like the sound of it.’

  ‘Your reason is strong. You will need it. Books are your first passion. The rest will follow. Emberd, could you use a little helper?’

  ‘Per, I have been asking for a helper for thirty-six years.’

  ‘Has no one answered?’

  ‘Scholars are willing, but scholars read and dream. They do not catalogue.’

  ‘I do,’ Gertie jumped in. ‘I mean, I will – catalogue. If you let me, please.’

  ‘Well, as soon as you are done playing then,’ said Per.

  Emberd clasped his hands together gratefully. Gertie squeaked. She radiated pleasure.

  Per turned to Gritty. She stood before him, straight and strong. ‘What a lot of body energy there is in you my dear.’

  ‘That’s about all I got,’ Gritty answered.

  ‘Not true,’ said Gertie. ‘She can balance on a pin, drive a cart and she ain’t afea
rd of nothing.’

  ‘Balancing, as if that’s a talent,’ said Gritty.

  ‘It is one part of your jenie,’ said Per, ‘along with rhythm and music.’

  ‘I do carry a tune inside,’ said Gritty, tapping her breastbone.

  ‘Do you?’ said Gertie.

  ‘And something tells me you already know your jenie,’ said Per.

  ‘I’m a dancer…’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Where’d that come from?’

  ‘You are a dancer. Your legs will tell you.’

  Gritty lifted her skirt and examined her legs.

  ‘You shall learn to walk.’

  Gritty’s face fell. Emberd leaned towards her. ‘Walking is terribly difficult, you know. I never can get it right.’

  ‘Yes, once that is mastered you will really dance,’ said Per.

  Gritty was puzzled but willing. ‘Then I’ll master it, sir. I’ll practise every day before work and after.’

  ‘Work?’ said Per.

  ‘Yes, sir. You gave my sister proper work – though she’ll count it a pleasure – and I hope you’ll find a use for me, too.’

  Light-filled eyes under copper brows regarded her. ‘Use.’ Then softly, ‘Children, you know, are not for using. Now this little one, Linnet.’ Linnet lifted her face to his. Per looked troubled. He spoke to Emberd in his own language. The waifs heard Clair’s name but they did not understand the rest. He turned back to Linnet. ‘Clair will give you salyus – bread, the right bread for you. And then,’ he put his hands out as though he were fluffing the air all around her, ‘colour, colour, so much colour in you.’

  ‘In me, sir? Ain’t I the most colourless thing you ever see’d?’

  ‘The most colourful,’ Per corrected. Linnet took little breaths as though it hurt her to hear what could not be true. ‘You have a great love of colour.’

  ‘Now that is right, sir. How did you know that? I only told it to Oy. I’d like to make colours above all else. I haven’t got any of my own,’ she touched her face, ‘but I love to look at all the shades in other people, and leaves and flowers and skies. Eyes and hair like your folk have got is truly ’stonishing.’

  Per touched her cheek very kindly. ‘Don’t you know your eyes hold all colours? They are like the gloss in a seashell. Emberd?’

  ‘She could go to the weaving barn and learn how to make dyes for the yarns.’

  ‘Would you like that?’ asked Per.

  Linnet nodded so hard and long that Gertie whispered ‘Stop it, you’ll give yourself a headache.’

  Oy was standing shyly behind the others. Emberd ushered him forwards. ‘And this is Oy.’

  Per cupped Oy’s chin and tilted his head back. ‘Ah,’ he said, falling silent. It was a while before he spoke. ‘You will find your own way – make no haste to choose.’

  Oy was disappointed. He knew he had no gifts, but like Gritty he hoped to be of use.

  ‘Linnet, come here,’ said Per. Linnet came to stand with Oy. Per put a hand on both of their heads. ‘These two... these two...’ he said, and began to drift.

  Emberd cleared his throat. ‘Per, there’s one more.’

  ‘Yes, of course, Alas.’

  Alas barred himself tightly with his arms. His eyes travelled around and across Per without resting, like a fly that fears to settle in case it is caught.

  ‘You want no advice,’ said Per. ‘You want freedom. Be free then. Now, Emberd, I think…’

  ‘Excuse me.’ Alas raised his hand. ‘I’m not done. If I’m to stay here I mean to work.’ He checked off his skills on his fingers, business-like. ‘I’ve done winders, I’ve done metals, I’m clever with locks, all forms of what we call donkey work – fetch, carry, labour. I know chimney work, though to be honest, I wouldn’t choose it. I’ll take my freedom but only if you let me pay for it. I’ve learned that all favours have to be paid for some time. Wherever I see labour, I’ll be there: in the fields, in your woods. I’ll do a day’s work before noon every day – and I can see why you don’t have a word for work; there’s a lot to be done round here and nobody doing it. After noon, I’d like to be paid for my labours. I hope you do a gold coinage to match where we came from, because my friends are forgetting that we got to go back there and sort a few things out and we’ll need gold for that.’ Alas went on laying out conditions. Per listened to him minutely, just as Alas had learned to listen for the clicking of locks. ‘How does that suit? All fair and square?’ Alas finished.

  ‘Well said. Very logical,’ Emberd began, then checked himself: ‘And logic is sometimes useful – but mostly not. The difficulty is we don’t have a coinage. No money at all in fact.’

  ‘Money,’ said Per, ‘did we ever...?’ he trailed off.

  ‘I’ll see if I can find a money substitute,’ said Emberd. ‘And they’ll need somewhere to sleep. The retreat in the basin.’ He spoke hurriedly as Per’s mind began to drift. He was close to shouting. ‘It’s where I hid you know, when I first escaped from Fellund. They can stay there to begin with.’

  Per’s eyes followed a sunbeam from floor to window and out, out, out. He grew very still.

  ‘Gone,’ said Emberd. ‘That’s it.’ He took one more look at Per’s face. ‘No, there’ll be nothing more today. And I have a list of scholars’ questions for him. Never mind. Scholars are endlessly patient you’ll find.’ They left Per to his musings and walked back towards the entrance. ‘He hasn’t stayed down like that in a long time. You are like new books to him, you see. Something fresh to read. I’ve been among scholars for most of my life and I still don’t understand them. You seem like practical people. I think we shall get on.’

  ‘What was that about escaping from Fellund?’ asked Alas.

  Emberd told them that his family were among a small number of the Berd race who were in bondage to the Felluns. When Emberd was a child the family had escaped. All of them were caught in the Scrubluns, except for Emberd. He had made it to Nondula.

  Ede returned and took them to the bathhouse. She gave them fresh clothes which slipped from their shoulders and had to be belted with cords. Linnet’s was so long it swept the floor. They spent the rest of the day running around the mosaic trails, marvelling at the caves, meeting the scholars in their somins – the cells where they slept – and eating. They seemed to be the only ones doing very much of that. Where there was bread there was Clair. She gave them bread of every colour and many other things fresh from the fields, and for Linnet she made salyus. After the last meal of the day Emberd appeared with a map showing the old retreat in the basin.

  ‘This basin,’ said Alas, ‘t’ain’t nothing like a basement I hope. If it is I’d rather take a hedge. We’ve all slept under hedges before, and worse, so all we need is the loan of a hedge till we’re ready to move on.’

  ‘A hedge, if you insist,’ said Emberd, ‘but we can offer beds.’

  ‘Real beds?’ said Gritty. She nudged Gertie and her eyes danced.

  ‘Forty years ago there were beds and Nonduls generally make things that last. This is the basin.’ Emberd’s finger followed a circular outline on the map surrounded by peaks and ridges. ‘It’s a dried up lake bed and a very good place to hide runaways. It’s very difficult to access except via the Sajistry. He spread a plan of the Sajistry over the other map. So, we follow the grey trail. It spirals up and up. It runs out there, but that path – I think it’s that one – leads to a secret door. And then... well you’ll see. First we need to find the door.’

  ‘We got it,’ said Gertie, tapping the plan.

  At Duldred the waifs had needed to memorise a maze of service passages. One look at Emberd’s plan was all they needed. They went ahead till the path ran out at a stone wall.

  Emberd caught up with them. ‘This takes me back,’ he said. ‘Watch this.’ He found a groove in the floor. From there he counted three stones across and five up. He pushed. What had looked like a wall was in fact a door faced with stone. It opened into a tunnel. The waifs followed Emberd into darkness. They emerg
ed inside a high, narrow pyramid. Dim light came from windows choked with ivy. A river of ivy cascaded down the walls across the floor and up a steep and narrow staircase.

  ‘Things have grown a little wild since I was here last,’ said Emberd. He mounted the stairs treading down the ivy as he went. ‘Mind your footing. It’s clearer ahead.’ They followed a single tendril of ivy up the last few steps where it disappeared under a door as if pointing the way. Emberd lifted the latch and pushed. It would not open.

  He leaned against it with his shoulder. The door opened into space. Emberd wobbled on the threshold. The waifs held on to his robes. The ivy-covered wall of the Sajistry sloped steeply below them. Ahead a broken bridge spanned a chasm and beyond that were rocky ridges.

  ‘Can we all step back a bit please.’ Emberd moved away from the dizzying drop.. ‘There are rungs on the wall under the ivy that’ll lead us down to the bridge but it’s hardly worth uncovering them. The bridge is in a poor state. I’m afraid it’s not passable. Never mind, there are other places you can stay.’

  Gritty pushed her way to the front. ‘I like this place. The bridge ain’t broke; it’s just gappy. We can cross that, easy.’ And she disappeared over the sill of the door. She did not look for rungs but used the vines as a ladder. The others watched her clamber down the wall and over the slopes to the bridge. It was a simple structure. Planks strung on ropes formed a walkway. Two other ropes served as handrails. There were large gaps in the centre where loose boards and frayed rope hung down.Gritty walked onto it casually. The creaks and swaying did not bother her at all. When she reached the gap she crossed it easily by balancing on the lower rope and holding the higher rail. She turned to face them. Her voice rang clear in the still air. ‘Come on, the ropes are holding, it’s only the walkway that’s rotted.’ She tipped her head and most of her body over the rail and grinned through her swinging hair. ‘Come and see the view.’

  ‘I swear that girl has no sense of danger,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ said Emberd as he watched the waifs helping each other down.