Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2) Read online

  It seemed that they were and he had no choice but to lower himself awkwardly out of the door.

  Gritty waited in the middle of the bridge. The others looked from the thin ropes to the deep chasm. Alas tossed a stone into it. They did not hear it fall. No one spoke. ‘It must have fell on grass,’ said Gritty. ‘Quiet grass. Are you coming over or what? If you’re nervous bring me some vines and I’ll tie them off on this side.’

  Alas cut lengths of vine, coiled them and hung them round his neck. He gripped the handrail and tested each board before putting his weight onto it.

  ‘Just walk like you walk,’ said Gritty.

  ‘I’ll do it my way,’ said Alas.

  He reached the middle and between them they criss-crossed the gap with vines. Gritty stamped on it. ‘It’s sound,’ she said.

  The others crossed, uncertainly at first, but with growing confidence till only Emberd remained. He took off his sandals. His toes clung to the ropes and vines underfoot. In the middle he froze, both hands locked to the rails.

  ‘Keep your eyes on me,’ Gritty coaxed, but he could not move until she started back towards him.

  ‘Don’t,’ he panicked. ‘The movement – I can do it.’ At the other end five pairs of hands received him. He patted his heart. ‘You certainly are fearless things. Librarianship does little to test the nerves and body.’

  ‘It’s done you good,’ said Linnet. ‘Given you some colour.’ She touched her own white cheek.

  A waif who has eaten is a very energetic thing. Gritty skipped ahead following the staggered ridge of the Crestway. ‘This is fun, fun, fun,’ she sang.

  ‘There’s a word I ain’t heard in years,’ said Linnet.

  Soon they could see into the green bowl of the old lake bed. After a while Gritty stopped at the foot of a goat track and called back: ‘Is it this way? I can see steps up top.’ Emberd waved her on.

  At the top of the steps was a small timber lodge with a weathered door. Linnet touched its swirling blue grain. ‘Ain’t this pretty?’

  ‘Cyana wood,’ said Emberd. ‘It’s rare now.’ He pushed at the door. ‘Let’s hope it’s habitable.’

  They entered the dim room. Alas opened the shutters.

  ‘Memories,’ said Emberd as the light came in. ‘I was very impressed by all this cyana. It was a rare wood even then.’ The room was panelled with blue wood as were the beds. ‘That was my bed. Chee runaways slept in the others.’

  ‘Beds!’ said Gritty. ‘Real, off-the-floor beds. I’ve sneaked a quick lie down at Duldred, but I’ve always wanted to fall asleep in one.’

  ‘Do we really get to sleep in them?’ said Gertie.

  ‘The usual thing with beds is to sleep in them,’ said Emberd.

  ‘There’s only four,’ said Gritty. ‘Shall we go in together, Gert?’ She walked over to one of the beds and touched it. ‘Ooh, what’s it made of?’

  ‘Lumuss,’ said Emberd. ‘It keeps fresh and dry,’ he pushed down on the edge of the bed, ‘and springy as the day it was cut.’ He looked at the ceiling. ‘The whole place has held up rather well.’

  Gritty and Gertie sank together onto the edge of the bed, where they bounced gently, one going up as the other went down. They looked at each other with barely disguised glee. Linnet, Alas and Oy went over to the other beds and they, too, sat furtively bouncing.

  ‘So, will it suit?’ asked Emberd.

  ‘It’s perfect,’ said Gritty.

  Emberd turned towards the door with a curious chuckle. ‘Bouncing,’ he said to himself quietly. ‘A pleasure. Why? I must try to remember.’ He raised his voice again. ‘Ede will bring blankets. I’ll leave you to explore.’

  They watched till the stick figure reached the bridge and began to edge along it.

  ‘Shall I go and help him?’ said Gritty. ‘Oh no, there he goes, bit wobbly, frozen again, don’t look down, that’s the way, he’s over. He’s waving, proud of himself – ha ha.’ She went back to sit on the bed with Gertie. ‘What’s the matter Linnet?'

  Linnet had closed her eyes; the palm of her hand was pressed to her temple. ‘Nothing. Only, the wood: is it smoking?’

  ‘Smoking?’ said Gritty.

  ‘Curls coming off it,’ said Linnet.

  ‘It’s the pattern,’ said Gertie, ‘it makes you dizzy if you stare at it.’

  ‘I feel dizzy myself,’ said Gritty. ‘It’s ’cos everything’s gone opposite. We got people wanting to feed us, ’stead of people wanting to starve us.’

  ‘People serving us. Us! Lower than the lowest servants,’ agreed Gertie.

  ‘It’s like that wind span us upside down, and the whole world and everything in it went, whoop.’ Gritty leaned sideways.

  ‘I know which way I prefer,’ said Linnet.

  Ede brought blankets and they used what was left of the light to explore. There were springs and pools, and rocks to climb, and vine-hung trees perfect for swinging on. It seemed that the whole of the basin was theirs alone. And because they were playing as they had never played before the same thought came to all of them.

  ‘I wonder,’ said Linnet, ‘where all the children are?’

  They stopped playing. Alas dropped down from a tree. Gertie stepped out of the pond. Gritty scuffed her swing to a standstill. Oy let the frog he held hop away.

  ‘They’ll be in school won’t they?’ said Gritty.

  ‘I imagine,’ said Gertie.

  And they carried on playing. But Alas sat high in the tree and his eyes were watchful.

  At dusk they returned to the blue cabin. Gertie reached for their one remaining pack which hung on the bed post. Inside an oilskin parcel was a piece of Mrs Midden’s pie and a twist of paper. ‘Sourjacks,’ she said. She handed them round with a sparkle in her eye. ‘Remember how we used to stare at these through the window of the sweet shop?’

  ‘Yonks away that seems now,’ said Gritty.

  The waifs looked into each others’ eyes as the sweet-sour taste flooded their mouths.

  ‘Ooh, thuck hard,’ said Linnet.

  Oy sucked and giggled as jets of sweet and sour sprayed his tongue.

  They sucked quietly till the sweets had melted to a last sliver, and it seemed as though the last sliver of Duldred was also melting away.

  4 Girl Blue

  Despite the bouncy beds, Alas had not slept well. He thought he heard footsteps outside the cabin and a strange mournful cry. The others were well rested and surprisingly hungry.

  ‘I suppose it takes more than one day of eating to make up for years of not doing it,’ said Gertie as they started for the Sajistry.

  The scholars did not talk and eat. Sounds were small in the dining room: knife clicks and the tearing of bread. Clair had made a special bread for the waifs. She put the platter on the table. ‘This will help you catch up on your growing,’ she said. But Alas couldn’t swallow a bite till he had asked a question. ‘Clair,’ he said, ‘where are all the children?’

  ‘They live in the Kith,’ she answered. ‘It’s a wooded valley. If you stand on top of the Sajistry you will see it.’

  ‘Why so far off?’ said Alas.

  ‘So they can grow like the trees grow, undisturbed.’

  ‘I like the sound of that,’ said Linnet. ‘Will we be going there, Clair?’

  ‘Once you’ve been in the world it’s very hard to go back to the Kith. There’s an innocence there and a song.’

  ‘I wish I’d growed there and heard that song,’ sighed Linnet. ‘I don’t think I’d ever want to leave.’ She looked at Oy.

  ‘Not every child wants to leave,’ said Clair, ‘but most do. They move gradually to the edges of the wood; they spend time with the crafters and arablan, then they come here to study and meet their jenies.’

  Clair went away to fill the bread baskets.

  Alas dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘The children are off in a wood somewhere. It don’t sound right to me. P’raps the wood is full of factories and all the children are down there working.’
r />   ‘Alas, you’re being ridiculous,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Am I though? Let’s just be careful, shall we?’

  ‘You can keep your cares,’ said Gritty, ‘because I ain’t got a single one.’

  ‘We’ve been told to play,’ said Linnet, ‘and that’s what I’m going to do, soon as I get this lishus bread down.’

  So they played, but Alas held on to his suspicions. The only games that interested him were what he termed useful: finding every hidden door, stair, passage and cave inside and outside of the Sajistry. Then he had them practise hiding drills for when the Felluns came.

  For twelve days they played. On the evening of the twelfth day Gertie said that much as she liked playing she could hardly wait to start work in the library. Gritty and Linnet agreed. They longed to meet their jenies. Alas was ready for the serious business of working and saving for the future. They went to bed with the feeling that their real lives were about to begin.

  Only Oy was uncertain. Per had told him to take time to find his jenie. Oy didn’t know how much time to take or where he should start.

  Excitement woke Gertie early. She got up noisily, hoping to wake Gritty. When Gritty didn’t stir Gertie lifted her sister’s eyelid and tickled her ear.

  Gritty stretched and raised herself on one elbow.

  Gertie began talking to herself. ‘What’s on your schedule today, Gert? The library. Are you going to clean it? No, I’m a librarian. And tomorrow? Oh, the library again. You see, I’m a librarian.’

  Gritty laughed. ‘And I’m a dancer. That sounds good don’t it?’ She peered across the room. ‘Linn? Oh, lor’, look at Linn!’

  ‘It’s only the light,’ said Gertie as she crossed the room. She touched Linnet’s face, and her voice changed. ‘She’s stony cold.’

  Oy and Alas woke to see Gertie holding Linnet’s limp hand and Gritty running out of the door. Alas and Oy rubbed Linnet’s limbs and talked to her till Gritty came back with Clair and Ede.

  ‘Get her outside quickly,’ said Clair.

  They laid her outside and waited.

  ‘Is a doctor coming?’ said Alas.

  ‘I am the doctor,’ said Clair.

  ‘Well shouldn’t you do something? Something else I mean.’

  ‘Wait,’ said Clair. ‘It won’t take long.’

  It didn’t. The sun warmed the frightful colour away. Linnet turned grey-green, then grey, then white. Before long she came to and asked where she was. They told her, and then she remembered and said she was sorry about the fuss; she ought to be grateful to be any colour, even blue. Clair said she was oversensitive to colours. The blue in the lodge was too much for her.

  ‘I can still make colours can’t I?’ Linnet asked anxiously.

  ‘We need to balance you first,’ said Clair, ‘with yellow.’

  Alas piggy-backed Linnet down to the Sanctry. It was a place of healing. There, Ede tended to the sick animals and Clair made medicines. They gave Linnet the somin next door to Ede’s and filled it with yellow stones and flowers.

  ‘There, you got your own little sun-house,’ said Gertie.

  ‘And you got animals to play with just outside,’ said Gritty.

  ‘So you won’t get bored,’ said Gertie. ‘And we’ll all come by every day.’

  ‘Where’s she going to hide if the Felluns come?’ said Alas.

  ‘The log store on the side,’ said Ede. ‘There’s a hollow pile. She can get under it.’

  Alas went to see. He came back and explained to Linnet the drill he wanted her to follow at the first sound of humming.

  ‘I get it, Alas,’ said Linnet. ‘Now I want to sleep off this dizziness. You go and meet your jenies.’

  Ede began to herd the waifs out of the room.

  Oy said since he didn’t have a jenie he would stay close in case Linnet needed something.

  ‘Ain’t no need for that,’ said Linnet.

  ‘I’d sooner,’ said Oy.

  ‘Don’t be zasperating,’ said Linnet. ‘The bakery is where you belong, anyway I’m going to sleep like I said.’

  So Oy went to the bakery. He stood shyly by the door and took in the scene. The bakers were baking but they might have been dancing. Everything they did was graceful and perfect. They certainly didn’t need any help from him. He ran away and caught up with Gertie. They went to the library together. Emberd was waiting eagerly for his new helper. He pushed at the doors of the library. The three of them passed through into a golden hive of books.

  Gertie declared herself beyond dreams happy. The walls were made of honey-gold strata and the strata were jammed with books. Gertie stood gold-faced in the reflection. ‘If bees could read, this is how it would be,’ she said.

  ‘The central area is called the rondlah,’ said Emberd. ‘Up there are the arondahs, five floors of them. The fifth is rather difficult to access. High above them a tiny scholar on a tiny ladder let down a net of books. In the centre of the rondlah a large white bird slept on a pedestal.

  As they approached, the bird opened one set of eyelids then another and another.

  ‘When’re we going to get to its eyes?’ said Gertie.

  ‘She has different lids for different types of storm,’ said Emberd.

  The last grey film slid back and the bird stared at Oy with a human gaze. It was the saddest looking thing. Its bald face was like a melting candle; there were bags under its eyes and the pouch at its throat was withered thin. The pelican flopped to the floor. It walked around Oy prodding and nudging; then its beak opened wide, yawning in Oy’s face.

  ‘Bagla!’ Emberd placed himself between the bird and Oy. ‘No.’ He shook his finger. ‘She gets moodier by the day.’ Bagla dodged Emberd’s legs, still intent on Oy. ‘Behave and I’ll introduce you. This is Oy and this is Gertie. They were storm-dropped. Now go outside and stretch your wings before you forget how to do it.’ Bagla coughed and backed away. ‘She’s a cranky old thing but extremely useful. She came to Nondula some years ago. She used to rip her feathers out and bang her head against the shelves. But she’s been happier since we trained her to carry messages.’

  ‘She must have been really, really unhappy before then,’ said Gertie, looking at the mournful bird.

  ‘What you see here is just the start,’ said Emberd. He led them further into the library.

  It was true. There were shelves beyond shelves, arches leading to passages leading to caves, and doors leading to forgotten rooms. All of them were lined with books. Gertie was entranced. She opened a dusky pink half-sized door with a pointed arch. The floor was a jumble of books. A ladder led through a hole in the ceiling. Gertie stepped over the books, climbed the ladder, and poked her head through into a dusty sunlit loft.

  ‘This is my perfect, perfect room,’ she said.

  ‘Really,’ said Emberd. ‘Well you can have it. I don’t remember it ever being used. Come here any time you like.’

  Gertie swallowed. She had no words.

  They stopped at one of the caves. Inside the books were jammed together at all angles from floor to ceiling, even in the ceiling, which narrowed into a chimney. High they went, into the rich darkness. Emberd held the bridge of his nose as though his head ached. ‘It is utterly without order. The thing is the scholars like it that way. They say the books must move freely because the library is like a giant brain always making new connections. See, we’ve got Mingling Methods next to Humming Scales next to – what’s this?’ Emberd loosened a book. ‘Put your hand in the space or the whole lot will collapse. ‘Next to Four Flower Flours.’

  ‘It needs a system,’ said Gertie.

  Emberd gazed at Gertie as if her words were longed for treasures, then he sighed and shook his head.. ‘It would be a lot of work and not at all appreciated. And the scholars would not stick to it. No, it’s hopeless.’

  ‘I know hopeless,’ said Gertie, ‘and this ain’t it. You just need a fresh eye. Let’s see the rest of it.’

  Gertie and Emberd moved off. Oy lingered. He wanted
to look at the flower flour book. When he moved it, everything edged forward threatening to topple. He jammed the space, sat down and began to read: ‘We all know that there is a bread for every season. Spring bread is pale green newness, summer’s is flecked with peach and rose, autumn loaves smell of deep woodland litter and hedges spun with brambles, winter bread is like wet stone and sleep. These are the classic flower flours, but there are many others.’ He leaned on one elbow, curled himself around the book and read on.

  In the evening the waifs came together in the buttery light of Linnet’s somin and told about their day.

  ‘I’ll never forget my first sight of all them books,’ said Gertie. ‘And I got my own reading loft – imagine. I wanted to pay Emberd back for his kindness. I thought and thought, and it came to me, a system so we know where everything is – on the main shelves at least. And Emberd looked fit to cry with relief and he said I had a Berd brain. And I said, “That ain’t a compliment where I come from,” and he said, “Not here neither,” and he told me that he was tired of trying to be like a Nondulan. And I said, “Just be a Berd,” and he looked fit to cry again.’

  ‘I been fit to cry,’ said Gritty. ‘I don’t remember learning to walk the first time round but it had to be easier than this. I’m in with the beginners, walking in circles over and over. I think I’m getting it, then I see my teacher rippling along, no more effort than the grass blowing and I feel clumsy and heavy as a bullock. She says I’ve got to find the stillness inside. I’ve looked and looked but my insides are like my outsides, jumpy.’

  ‘You’ll get there,’ said Gertie.

  Alas yawned.

  ‘Tired?’ said Oy.

  ‘Not tired enough,’ said Alas. ‘I was all set to earn my keep with some logging, but it ain’t their way. First you got to ask the trees if they can spare a branch. Then you got to wait for an answer.’ He shook his head. ‘It took all morning to fill a few baskets. That was it, work done, sun not even past the high.’

  ‘What did you do for the rest of the day?’ said Oy.

  ‘Found the paper mill, the printers and the forge. Got a scholar to run me through all the humming signals. Poked around, asked some questions. Near fell asleep at the answers. I asked a scholar, how far to Fellund? Know what she said? “Measurements are always approximations.”’