Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2) Read online

  The Chee were not bad people, only thoughtless gossips. Fettapigi was bad. She was a Chee gone thoroughly wrong. The sun had baked her hard like enamel. She looked as though she had been preserved in a bog and buffed to a glassy finish. Her eyes were stained and foul. They mouldered. Every morning she broke crusts from them.

  Rigaw liked her. Rigaw’s liking was not a friendly feeling. It meant he had a use for her. She lived up to his expectations. He said he did not believe in magic but when he looked around her hovel, when he saw the corruption of her eyes, he believed in curses. They whispered from the walls and on her breath. Rigaw made his request. She said it would take many weeks and strong magic to make the thing he had asked for. He showed her gold and said he wanted it now. Fettapigi smiled. The main ingredient of a counter curse, she said, was pain. For a quick result the curse breaker must be the one to suffer. Rigaw swore. He protested. He went away and came back again. Finally he agreed. She heated her instruments in the fire. Rigaw closed his eyes as the grinning witch came at him. She came away with teeth. The roots were long, branched and pulpy. The holes deep in Rigaw’s jaw pumped blood.

  He had come for one thing but she sold him three: a healing tar to be spread on his gums, a broken doll, and a jar. In the jar, suspended in his own spit, were smashed splinters of teeth and the echoes of pain.

  Outside the hovel Chee urchins listened. Fettapigi was fascinating to them and so was her grand visitor. They listened to Rigaw’s request and to his angry bellows. They saw him emerge with blood on his chin and they told everyone.

  Rigaw rode home. Two days later it was well known among the Chee where he had been. Scriberd paid for the details and climbed to a tiny roof terrace where Bagla waited for him. He slipped the message into her beak. Emberd recieved it and read it to a gathering of elders on the northern slope of the Sajistry. Having gone to such lengths to obtain the counter curse it was certain that Rigaw would use it. The elders agreed in their vague way that something must be done. Unusually they also decided what that something should be. They would revive the art of humming.

  There was a time when Nondul humming was used as a defence. At its most powerful it could bind a man like cords. Now the art had weakened and it was only used as a warning signal and for the mild disturbance it caused to the Felluns and their horses. The scholars searched out old books on humming. Everywhere groups of Nonduls gathered round the books, their mouths shaping forgotten sounds.

  ‘Stupidest thing I ever heard,’ said Alas. ‘It’s like a fly trying to stop a bull by buzzing at it.’

  ‘It’s doing something,’ said Oy. ‘My head’s rumbling.’

  ‘My nose hurts,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Is the floor shaking?’ said Gertie. ‘Or is it in my feet?’

  The scholars had a purpose and it involved books. It satisfied their jenies. They asked Emberd for more and more books. The library was busy with scholars and alive with humming.

  Gertie and Emberd were scouring the shelves of the third arondah for yet more humming books. Emberd happened to look down just as Ijaw walked into the library followed by four Felluns and three Berds. The hinges of Emberd’s knees went slack. He dipped below the balcony. Gertie felt a tug on the back of her dress as he yanked her down with him. They watched between the spindles.

  So many scholars were practising humming it had masked the warning signal. No one on the floor of the libray knew what to do. Scholars stood up and sat down again. Ijaw ignored them. He was giving instructions to the Berds.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Gertie whispered. ‘He told ’em to take all the books on healing.’

  ‘My people,’ said Emberd. ‘So close. See their faces. They’re not happy at what they’re being made to do.’

  The Felluns lounged at a table and swigged from their flasks while the Berds bent over the library records.

  ‘They’re impressed by our system,’ said Gertie.

  Emberd groaned. ‘Our system. Better if we had left things in confusion; now they can find the healing books easily.’

  And they did. The Berds and scholars were made to carry load after load of books out of the library. When they were done Ijaw addressed the scholars. He said that the Berds would train to be healers and the Chee would grow all the healing herbs.

  ‘Healers are born not made,’ said Benet, ‘and herbs don’t grow where they don’t belong.’

  Ijaw leaned towards one of the Berds. ‘What’s he say?’

  ‘He says that reading books won’t make us into healers,’ the Berd explained.

  Ijaw made the creaking sound that passed for a laugh in Fellund. ‘You’re telling me your books are no use, scholar?’

  ‘I doubt that you will find them useful,’ said Benet.

  ‘Good,’ said Ijaw. ‘This is what I do with useless things.’

  ‘I don’t like how this is going,’ whispered Emberd. The Felluns were lighting fire brands. Emberd clutched the spindles of the balcony. ‘Not in my time. Please, not in my time.’

  ‘They can’t!’ Gertie shot up straight not caring if she was seen. ‘We got to stop them.’ She made a dash for the stairs.

  Emberd gripped her smock while the Felluns scooped books from the shelves and set them alight. ‘No, you mustn’t,’ he said, ‘there’s nothing we can do.’ She kicked and struggled and threw her head back cracking his chin but he held on while she strained towards the stairs.

  The fire took hold quickly and the smoke thickened. At last Gertie escaped Emberd’s grasp. She took the steps in threes while Emberd tripped and bumped down behind her. He lay at the bottom coughing with one foot pointing in the wrong direction. ‘Oh, Lor’, I’m sorry,’ said Gertie as she took him under the arms and dragged him through the smoke. ‘You’re light as straw.’

  ‘Hollow bones: they snap like sticks.’ Emberd began to cough.

  ‘Pull your robe over your face. Oh, which way... where’s the door gone?’

  Emberd pointed through the smoke. Gertie found the door and hauled him outside. She stood coughing and rubbing her eyes. When she looked up the Felluns were no more than fifty thighs away, leaning on their wagon, jeering and toasting the flames. There was nowhere to hide so she made herself smaller, crouching low and shielding Emberd’s head. The Berds were still loading the wagon with books. One of them walked past and paused. He took a step back and looked at Emberd with surprise. ‘Walk on,’ Gritty hissed. The Berd understood and walked on.

  Luckily the Felluns showed no interest in the casualties. When the wagon was full they drove away. Then Gertie called for help. ‘I can wait.’ Emberd waved her away. ‘The books, save the books – and the moths.’

  ‘What moths?’

  ‘Never mind, save the books.’

  The windows of the library were like furnaces. Inside, the shelves turned to glowing skeletons. Gertie screamed for water, then she saw Alas heading a chain of arablan. They passed buckets hand to hand from the wells. The scholars cleared the next rank of books from the line of fire. Deven and Gritty made a fire break with soaked linen.

  When it was over, the drenchers and beaters stood in a circle with darkened faces. Buckets dangled from their arms. They stared at the ashes. Gertie’s chest heaved.

  Gritty hugged her. ‘Everything that can be saved we’ll save,’ she said.

  ‘Emberd!’ said Gertie. ‘I forgot him – his foot’s off – broke – snapped.’

  ‘Ede’s fixing him,’ said Gritty.

  They ran to see. Ede had straightened and strapped the bone. Oy knelt with his hands over the join. ‘How does that feel?’ said Ede.

  ‘Warm,’ said Emberd, ‘and busy.’

  ‘That’s the healing,’ said Ede. ‘We’ll get you to bed.’

  ‘No, not yet. In there.’ He pointed to the library. ‘I need to see.’ Two arablan carried him inside. The waifs and Ede followed. They put him on a chair in the middle of the sooty rondlah. ‘Oh, no.’ He covered his eyes with his hand.

  Gertie touched his arm. ‘They threw
a brand into your office but we saved most of it. What did you mean when you said, “save the moths”?’

  ‘Nothing – I was panicking.’

  ‘They won’t come back will they?’ said Gertie.

  ‘To finish the job you mean,’ said Emberd. ‘I don’t know. It might be as well to store some books elsewhere as they did at the time of the great fire.’

  Gertie looked around her. ‘So many. How would we choose?’

  The Felluns did come back but not to burn more books. This time they brought Chee field hands. The Chee gawped at the richness of the land and the beauty of the people. They dallied in the fields, checking the plants against the pictures in the healing books. They made faces behind the backs of the Felluns and winked at the watching Nonduls. The Nonduls saw them eating crickets and gave them bread. The Chee almost swooned at the goodness in their mouths. There was much to do and they stretched the work as long as they possibly could. Eventually they had taken what they must, leaving ugly holes, upended roots and beheaded stems behind.

  Then the Felluns raided the herb room. They emptied the shelves of everything: of notes, tinctures, flakes, creams and powders. Some of the jars were so ancient they hadn’t been moved in lifetimes. There were at least thirty bottles of yellow liquid lined up on the bench. Oy had worked day and night to make them. The Felluns smashed them all.

  But none of this spurred the Nonduls to action. All they did was practise their humming. Alas gave up on them. Without telling anyone but the waifs he went to the Kith.

  8 Berd Brain

  Gertie worked every day from dawn till dusk, blotting away damp, fanning pages and leaving them to dry in the sun, gently wiping smoke-damaged covers and spines, and setting aside partially burned books for the scholars to recover what text they could. Inwardly she was critical of Emberd who seemed to spend most of his time hiding in his study, occasionally looking out through the hatch in despair. He could do more even with a broken ankle. She tried flattery, taking in books that needed especially skilled restoration. Going back hours later she found he had barely begun.

  She couldn’t sleep for thinking of all the work left to do. One night she got up and went back to the library. There was a light in Emberd’s office. Thinking that she had misjudged him she entered quietly. He was peering at a crystal jar with leaves in it. He didn’t see Gertie till she was right beside him.

  ‘So, you’re sneaking back to do some extra work,’ she said. Emberd started and folded his hands over a drawing. ‘Can I see?’ Emberd made a space between his cupped hands. ‘That’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘You like it?’ he asked uncertainly.

  ‘Course I like it. It’s so close to life it could fly off the page. Oh, it’s the moth in the jar you’re drawing. Are you restoring the picture? I didn’t think the Nonduls made books like this.’

  ‘They don’t. I do.’

  ‘You did. That’s your drawing?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Moths of Nondula Vol 3 by Emberd Edweronn.’ Gertie turned the pages. ‘Ruddy scallop,’ she read, ‘buttermouth, lunar looper. It’s wonderful the detail. This page here, all one family aren’t they? They’re nearly the same, but not quite. It must have taken you forever to do.’

  ‘All my life and I’m still working on it. It’s useless of course. The need to name and order is an illness. And I have it, badly.’

  ‘Who says it’s an illness?’

  ‘The Nonduls: not to my face of course, but I’ve seen it written in their books.’

  ‘I disagree. It’s not an illness it’s a pleasure so don’t you be feeling shame about it. Anyway scholars name things.’

  ‘Only in older books written in the common. Nondulan books are plain baffling.’

  ‘Give me our sort of books any time.’

  ‘It pleases me to hear that.’

  ‘You miss your own folk don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, yes I do miss them. Seeing them in the library has made me realise how much. And the one who walked by as I lay on the ground, he looked into my eyes and we understood each other completely. I haven’t felt like that for a very long time.’

  ‘I do my best, Emberd – to understand.’

  ‘I know you do, and it helps me very much to have you here.’

  ‘I might not be a Berd but you told me once I had a Berd brain and I do like naming things.’

  ‘Well I think your brain has many more parts than mine, Gertie. Still, I stand by what I said; one of those parts is Berd. Would you like to help me name some moths?’

  ‘Would I?’ Gertie pulled up a chair happily.

  ‘How about this one?’

  Gertie thought. ‘Wapple’s Spinnet.’

  ‘Why that?’

  ‘I just like the sound of it.’

  ‘And so do I.’

  The moon was high when they went out to free the moths. The tall, limping Berd and the small, dark girl watched them flutter away.

  9 The Pits

  Oy looked at the empty shelves of the herb room. The Felluns had left nothing but patterns of dust. The books and jars had been like a long line of healers standing behind him, ready with their wisdom. Now they were all gone he felt like his jenie, too, had been stolen. He had nothing but his own weak brain to call on. Not only was he the last healer in Nondula, it was as though he was the first. It was up to him to rewrite the books, to refill the stores, to replant the herbs, to... to find out everything all over again. It was impossible.

  One thing gave him hope: he was able to recreate Linnet’s tincture from memory and lately she had seemed much better. He made up a large batch and wrote out the recipe carefully. Whatever happened Linnet would be well looked after.

  It was just after dawn when he passed Linnet’s somin. Her shutters were open so he went in. ‘Did you sleep bad?’

  ‘No. I slept good. It’s that tincture you gave me. Works a treat.’

  ‘Only you don’t look… your eyes are very bright but there’s shadows all round ’em. You sure you slept?’

  ‘Like a – what does Gertie say?’

  ‘Like a dormouse in a rocking chair.’

  ‘Zackly.’

  ‘And the pain?’

  ‘Nothing. All gone.’

  Oy picked at the blanket. ‘I’m going on the hill. I shan’t be long.’

  ‘Go on. I want to do some sewing.’

  ‘I’ll get it for you.’

  ‘No, I want to do it myself. Got to keep these legs working.’ And she did.

  Oy climbed to one of the viewpoints on the Sajistry. The sun drove the morning mist up from the fields. For a while there was no horizon, only hilltops floating in the mist like dumplings in gravy. He was standing in sky with his body in cloud and his head above it. Showers of mist drifted in the sunlight. He closed his eyes and put his hand into the mist. At first he felt nothing, but after a while he sensed a fine, cool freckling on his skin. To the east, Fellund was ghosted out. As the sun strengthened, Fort Offel’s tower slowly appeared. What a cold, cruel place it seemed. Stop it now, he told himself: things are never how you imagine; they’re sometimes better, sometimes worse and sometimes just different. This cloud looks soft and fluffy from below, but when you’re in it it’s like fine rain. He waited till the last wisps cleared and went down.

  Linnet woke as Oy opened the door. ‘You’re back quick. I must have dropped off.’

  ‘You should take that jacket off when you get drowsy. The pins will stick you.’

  ‘I will. I’ll take it off.’

  He cleared the sewing from the bed. ‘Linn, I’ve got to go away and do some herb hunting. I looked at the maps and my jenie is saying go to the Aul Forest. It’s a fair way south. I’ll have to camp out. You don’t mind do you? I mean, you’re on the mend now. You are aren’t you?’

  ‘Abslootly.’

  ‘Tell the others where I’ve gone. I’ve made up a big batch of tincture and Ede will take care of you.’

  ‘Do it. Always follow your jenie they say
. I’m near well enough to follow mine. See how much sewing I’ve done. I’ll be dyeing again before long.’ She laughed. ‘That sounds bad don’t it? I mean making colours. I can hardly wait.’

  ‘Good, you keep having that dream.’

  ‘I’m going to start that dream right now.’

  Oy straightened her pillows. She closed her eyes and looked perfectly content. He patted the blanket around her and touched her white hair with the back of his hand.

  Later, Alas returned from the Kith. He looked for Oy. Neither Gertie or Gritty had seen him. In the evening they went to Linnet’s somin expecting to find Oy there. Linnet told them where he had gone.

  ‘That was sudden,’ said Gertie.

  ‘If that’s where he’s gone,’ said Alas.

  ‘Course it is,’ said Linnet. ‘His jenie said go, so he went.’

  The mood in the room was low. Something was not being said, a doubt that grew bigger the longer they sat.

  ‘Tell us about the Kith,’ said Linnet, but Alas found it hard to discuss what had happened. He had seen children and he no longer doubted that the Kith was a special place and must be saved. He had also seen Felluns. The fears of the arablan were well founded. Rigaw had taken the next step and breeched the kith. ‘I’ll meet with the elders tomorrow,’ he said, ‘give them the news. If they take my advice they’ll quit humming, arm themselves and learn how to fight. It’s the only way.’

  Oy reached the edge of the forest at dusk. The grass graded into scrub and Oy said goodbye to Nondula. He moved with no feeling of purpose, and little hope of achieving anything, yet he had to do it. Only the hawks noted him. Like a flake of ash from a wanderer’s camp fire he drifted through the scrub in the failing light. When he could no longer see ahead he lay down where he was and lost himself among the stars.

  In the morning he stood and rubbed the chill from his arms. The fort was there in the distance, dark battlements against a white sky. He looked back at Nondula and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He pulled his head around and forced himself on. Too soon he noticed guards moving on the parapets. He crouched and hooded his eyes so all he could see was the thatch of grass around him and he tried to remember why he was doing this. He imagined the Kith: it was a feeling rather than a picture; a clear, bright feeling, and there was a creeping darkness coming towards it. Still he could not move. Then something blue flashed in his sight. He looked up – there, and again, there. A kingfisher. It landed on the nearest shrub and waited. That kink in its wing: it was his kingfisher, his friend. He got up and followed the bird.