Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2) Read online

  ‘Good idea,’ said Linnet, but she said it without hope or interest.

  They talked on about other matters while Linnet stared at the wall. The waifs prepared to leave. Linnet asked Alas if he would mind staying a while longer. He hesitated, then he sat down again and picked at his nails.

  ‘You don’t like being left alone with me, do you?’ said Linnet.

  ‘It’s not you, it’s...’

  ‘You don’t like to see illness.’

  ‘People die around me, Linn. I’m a jinx.’

  ‘That’s rubbish.’

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘I promise not to die till you’re gone.’

  Alas turned towards her. ‘You’re an odd one, Linn. Like Oy, weak and strong.’

  ‘Tell me about the Kith,’ she said. ‘All of it, what you saw and heard. I want to imagine myself there.’

  ‘Alright. I’m not as good with words as Gert, but I’ll tell you, near as I can, how it was.

  ‘As I get near to the Kith I hear something like far off bells or laughter – laughing bells is the closest I can get. This comes and goes. I think I hear it, then I think I’m imagining it.’ Alas stopped. ‘I...’ his eyes pricked. Linnet’s welled in response. He cleared his throat. ‘There’s something in the air down there; you can’t say what it is. Everything’s fresher, brand new, even newer than that. It’s like no badness has ever been there. I walked down into the valley. As I get close to the forest, I don’t see, but I know, there’s children there. There’s flickers of children in my mind, is the best way I can put it. Then I go under the trees and I walk. I feel myself getting quieter inside. I walk quieter. I forget to think. Then I see them. There’s two on a log: the prettiest children; they’re talking. It’s a language you can hardly make out from the forest around you. It sounds like leaves moving, water over stones, bird sounds. You’d never know it was them, ’cept you can see their mouths moving. They’re no different to the forest, Linnet. No different at all. And always, that silvery laughing on the air. I feel I don’t belong. There’s something spoiled in me.

  ‘I don’t know how long I stayed there just listening and watching. There’s more children. They come and go. The light changes. Still I wait. They remind me of Oy. First time I met him he was touched with the same thing.’

  ‘I know,’ said Linnet.

  ‘Then this gent comes along. You ain’t ever seen anything like him: tall and... I don’t know how to say this, but he don’t seem fixed. He’s bigger than himself – wavery. He’s gathering up the children and not doing a very good job of it. An older child comes to him. This one speaks in a mixture of forest sounds and words. She says the Kith is breeched. I think she means me. I’m the breech. I knew I wasn’t fit to be there. Now they start scattering, still laughing, as though it’s a game. There’s lights flowing between the trees like water. But the breech isn’t just me, it’s worse than that. The Felluns are coming, like they always come, trampling and breaking, and their voices doing injury to the air. The children on the log are still there. I want to tell them, run, but it’s too late. The Felluns see them and stop dead. It’s Rigaw himself, getting down from his horse. He goes up to the children. They’re not a bit afraid. He tries to be nice. That was horrible to see. He bends to them, tells them what a nice forest it is, and that he needs a healer. Do they know where he can find one? The children just look at him – they just look at him. Then one, the girl, reaches out and strokes his head like he’s an animal that’s just wandered out of the forest and wants to be friends, and the look on her face, so simple and trusting – it killed me. Rigaw backs off. He gets on his horse and they ride away, slow and quiet.

  ‘I followed behind. I’d no more business there than a Fellun. I wanted to get away, leave it just as it was. Rigaw doesn’t speak again till he’s out of the forest. Then it’s like his personality comes back in a rush, and stronger still. He gets this jar of slime out of his pocket, dips his finger in it and smears it on a tree. I think his hand was shaking. “Is that it, Capun?” says one of his men. “The curse is broke?”

  ‘Rigaw says according to the witch all they had to do was smear this gunk on the trees as they enter and leave. But he didn’t seem convinced. So they wait around talking, and all the while Rigaw seems to be listening for something. After a while he gets less jittery, starts making plans. Says a place like the Kith shouldn’t exist. No wonder Nonduls turn out so stupid if that’s the start they get. Says it will make a fine bear park for the Fellona.’

  ‘I won’t let them do that,’ said Linnet.

  Alas looked into her eyes and almost believed her.

  Everywhere, scholars could be seen with adventure books in their hands. They read at desks, under trees, as they walked, and as they ate. They no longer talked of auric mingling, but of heroes and heroines, deeds and daring, beginnings and endings. There was a change in energy that kept the scholars grounded for long periods of time. It was strange to see Per perched in a window seat, holding an adventure book and – Gritty swore this was true – biting his thumb nail.

  Alas gave them time to read, then he called for a meeting. The elders gathered on the hillside in an old talking circle, roughly built before the time of the Arcann. The walls were half buried and greened over. Goats and sheep grazed quietly around them.

  First to speak was Benet: ‘We have read the books, and discovered the way of action. It has been our way to do right, and to accept that others choose wrong. To fight it is to move out of jensis, and... what was I going to say?’

  ‘The Kith,’ said Deven. ‘How can our children grow in jensis without the Kith? It must be saved.’

  ‘The Kith, our land and library,’ said Benet. ‘What are we without any of these?’

  Blesum was the only scholar who had rejected the adventure books. ‘We would still have wisdom,’ he said. ‘Everything is as it is.’

  ‘Oh please,’ said Alas. ‘Can we stick with Oy. What are we going to do about Oy?’

  ‘Alas is right,’ said Per. ‘We must think of Oy first. He has gone to Fellund for our sake. We will act for his sake.’

  There was a long wait. The scholars didn’t seem to mind if they waited forever.

  ‘Well,’ said Alas. ‘What’s it to be, this act?’

  ‘The act,’ said Per vaguely.

  ‘Our turn, Gert.’ Alas nodded at Gertie.

  Gertie stood up. ‘If you ain’t brought up to action it can take a while to get the hang of it. We’ve been reading and doing adventures longer’n you and we got an idea. We need to get into Fellund to find out exactly what they want with the healers and to give Oy all the help we can. I see you looking alarmed. We ain’t asking you to fight your way in. You ain’t got the strength, the numbers or the... well, the fight. Better to send in a single spy.’

  ‘Scriberd does what he can,’ said Emberd.

  ‘And I’m sure we’re all grateful,’ said Gertie, ‘but we need someone who’s willing to take risks to get Oy out of there.’

  ‘I been over to Fellund already,’ said Alas. The scholars looked closely at Alas, as though he were an unknown species. ‘I went among the Chee and listened. These are the ways into Fort Offel: on a meat barge, as a serf or as hunt quarry. Fort serfs all come from the same families so that’s out. I’m willing to try the meat barges.’

  ‘It would mean hiding under piles of rotten meat in salts that would sear the skin off you,’ said Emberd.

  ‘Hunt quarry then. I’ve witnessed some of what goes on. What else is known?’

  ‘It’s Bominata’s favourite sport,’ said Emberd. ‘The Runner Out pits their fastest quarry against the Pack Maker’s horses and dogs. Husbeaus put up prizes as a way to impress her, and high wagers are placed.’

  ‘What happens to the children if they are caught?’ said Alas.

  ‘At best injury. At worst...’ Emberd trailed off.

  ‘And you let this happen.’ Alas looked at the scholars around him. They were silent but their eyes were paine
d.

  ‘Some things are beyond us,’ said Per.

  ‘It isn’t hopeless,’ said Emberd. ‘If the children beat the dogs three times they are freed.’

  ‘Where do the quarry come from?’ said Alas.

  ‘They are chosen in the camps. The Felluns hold trials with food prizes. Many children take the risk to feed their families.’

  ‘I would try for it,’ said Alas, ‘but I heard that the next quarry trials are a long way off.’

  ‘And you might end up shredded,’ said Gritty.

  ‘I reckon I can outrun some mangy dogs,’ said Alas.

  ‘It’s not a good idea,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Well, the only other way in is as a Chee tumbler,’ said Alas

  ‘A tumbler, why didn’t you say before?’ said Gritty.

  ‘It would be our best bet,’ said Alas, ‘but it’s girls only.’

  ‘I’m a girl,’ said Gritty.

  ‘No!’ Gertie marched over to her side. ‘I’m older ’n you, and I say no. Ma would say no and I say no.’

  ‘Ma gave up her right to say no when she put me on a raft.’

  ‘Ma did but I didn’t.’

  ‘Well maybe it’s time I started thinking for myself!’

  ‘I’m only looking out for you.’

  ‘I know you are.’

  ‘There’s Nondul dancers here,’ Gertie argued. ‘Let them go.’

  ‘They’re too tall, and them violet eyes is a dead giveaway. They’d never pass for Chee.’ Gritty turned to the scholars. ‘You’re clever, but you ain’t got the sort of wits for this. It needs gumption. Anyway tumbling is nothing like Nondul dance. It’s a running and flipping and flying sort of dance. Like this.’ Gritty ran over to a stretch of grass and tumbled, her legs flashing over her head, her body arcing and flicking upright. She finished with a flying leap into the air and stumbled into a sheep. Her fingers sank into it’s fleece. It was inert, untroubled. She nestled her cheek against it, then turned to face the scholars. ‘And it’s clear as day that I should be the one to go.’

  ‘You are a little fair to pass for Chee,’ said Emberd.

  ‘That’s it then,’ said Gertie. ‘We’ll find another way.’

  Bonifes raised a finger. ‘We can use disguise – I have read about it.’

  ‘An adventure staple,’ said Deven.

  The scholars began to discuss the classic elements of adventure. At any other time Gertie would have pitched in with relish, but now she stood silently with clenched fists and cursed the adventure books. Her shoulders were unyielding as Alas led her away.

  Gertie urged Alas to go back and search for another way into the fort. Alas was more than willing but there was no other way. The tumbling trials were scheduled for the full moon. As the time shrank Gertie kept up her objections. She spotted Gritty bent over the spring close to their cabin, and crept up behind her. ‘I know you’re avoiding me,’ she said. Gritty looked up, her chin shiny with water. She raised her hand to silence Gertie but Gertie pressed on.‘No, I got to say this. You like the idea of adventure and risk and the dancing all bundled up together. It’s the way you’re made, and you have got some common sense, but over there in Fellund you don’t know what you’re going to find. You’ll have no one to ask or rely on; you’ll have to decide for yourself what to do. And I don’t know –’

  ‘You don’t know if I’m up to it.’

  ‘You just ain’t never been tested in that way. These are ruthless people. From what I can see they got no pity in ’em. You’re just a girl. Once you’re in there it won’t be moving fast that keeps you alive, it’ll be what’s up here.’ Gertie tapped her head.

  ‘And you think I got nothing up here.’ Gritty splashed her face and walked away.

  The smallest Nondul dancers offered to go. They darkened their skin and hair with nut shells and xanthus oil. They covered their eyes with lizard scales, but when they blinked the scales slid and stuck to their cheeks, and even in disguise they had an air that was unmistakably Nondul. With her hair darkened and plaited Gritty could pass for a northern Chee. When they practised tumbling, Gritty always managed one more twist, spin or somersault than anyone else.

  ‘All of you are better dancers than me,’ she told them, ‘but none of you will win prizes for tumbling. I’m the only one with a hope of getting in there.’ The scholars conceded, but Gertie would not. ‘I have to do this, Gert, it’s my jenie,’ Gritty appealed. ‘I know I ain’t nothing like as bright as you – nobody is. But I got to grow up some time. We can’t always be together.’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘I just got a feeling that this has to be, and if these are our last days together... for a time, oh, don’t be cold with me.’

  Gertie fell into Gritty’s arms.

  Gritty was sad but excited. She skipped six levels of dance and joined in the elevation class. The Nonduls had a way of staying in the air longer than was natural. It took years to perfect but Gritty had the beginnings of it. Her jenie burned.

  Gertie willed the moon to keep its face in darkness, but it turned its fatness to her and blazed stubbornly. Soon it was time for Gritty to leave. Ede laced her into a Chee-style dress. Her middle shrank to nothing.

  ‘We had a friend who would have liked a dress like this,’ said Gritty staring away into space.

  ‘Molly,’ said Gertie.

  ‘She had a middle what went out and out and out. I reckon she’d appreciate it going in and in and in,’ said Gritty. ‘Am I ready?’

  ‘You need beads,’ Ede said. ‘The Chee always wear beads. They make them out of anything.’

  ‘I made some for you,’ said Gertie. She put the tiny twisted pearls around Gritty’s neck.

  ‘Gert, it’s beautiful. What’s it made from?’

  ‘Snail shells. I found ’em in the dry leaves under the hedge.’

  ‘They’re so pretty and mini.’

  Emberd gave her paper and ink just in case she found a way to get a message out. ‘One more thing,’ he said. ‘You need a stamp like mine.’ On his papery hand, just below the thumb was a B pricked out in bumps. You need a C for Chee. You’ll have a life scar but you can’t go in there without it.’

  ‘Do it,’ said Gritty.

  Ede made a crescent of dots in Gritty’s skin with a needle. A rub of briar juice brought up the bumps.

  ‘Now you’re ready,’ said Ede.

  ‘I hardly know you. You ain’t my little sister,’ said Gertie.

  ‘I never was – littler than you I mean.’

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Gertie. ‘I want to come with you to the border.’

  ‘Gert, I can’t leave you there. I’ll need my wits keen and straight.’

  Gertie couldn’t speak.

  ‘Right, I’m moving.’ A quick embrace and she was gone. Gritty’s heart ached but when she reached the border she was smiling, just as she had smiled when she drove the cart from Duldred with the wind in her hair.

  ‘Just like that, she was gone,’ Gertie told Linnet. ‘I got a hole, a real bad hole. We ain’t never been apart. You know how I feel don’t ya? Just me and you now.’ Gertie climbed up on the bed and they sat with their arms round one another.

  ‘And Alas,’ said Linnet.

  ‘Alas, he’s hardly ever here. Always off scouting and looking for trouble. Let’s read shall we, take our minds off things.’

  Gertie read to Linnet until Alas came in, full of restless energy. Oy and Gritty were beyond his help now, but the Kith was not. The place had touched him deeply. It must be protected somehow. He could think of little else.

  After a few days an answer came from the most unexpected source.

  ‘There is something we can do about the Kith,’ Linnet told Alas. ‘I think I got one more adventure in me.’

  11 The Trials

  Ede had seen Gritty safely over the border. Gritty lost herself among the crowds of Chee coming in from the camps. All were hoping for the same prize: an end to insect dinners and hard labour. Gritt
y spent the night sleeping in the open with the other hopefuls. All of them were either talking or bursting to talk. A girl called Jefee approached her. She lifted one of Gritty’s braids. ‘I don’t mean to be rude,’ she said, ‘but you must be a northerner with a granny style like that. Want me to do it for you?’ Gritty agreed. She wanted to stand out for her dancing, not her hair. Jefee combed the plaits out with her fingers. She tugged Gritty’s head one way and another as she talked into her ear in a breathless stream. She flung the odd question at Gritty but barely waited for an answer. It suited Gritty. She learned a lot and gave nothing away.

  Next day Gritty practised with Jefee and the other girls. The Chee were very, very good. For the first time Gritty doubted herself. At moonrise crowds began to gather. They brought makeshift instruments and danced around the fires. ‘There’s my grandmother,’ said Jefee. ‘Come and meet her.’

  The woman was old, yellow and creased. She offered her hand. It was dry and warm. ‘Yehvowanderlee Inleg Swank,’ she said. ‘But you can call me Yehvo.’

  Jefee dipped to the ground to fuss a small dog. ‘Trotty trotdog,’ she said. She picked him up and waved his paw at Gritty. The dog looked through its straggly fringe with clever eyes. ‘He’s the Fort postdog.’

  ‘What’s a post...?’ Gritty began, but Yehvo interrupted with a sound like a screeching fiddle. Her mouth sucked in; her neck veins stuck out. She watched the girls from the corner of her eye. Gritty twitched and shuffled. Yehvo stamped time next to her, then she high-stepped away, head jutting like a cockerel, grinning and screeching under her old-lady moustache. Gritty and Jefee laughed and went stomping after her. They interwove, stepping in and out of each others’ spaces, looking as if they were tangling and unravelling, yet they never touched. A circle of watchers formed around them. Yehvo screeched faster and faster. The girls could barely keep up. At last the dance ended with a shuddering note and the three stood back breathless. They bowed to each other respectfully.

  ‘Good girls. You’ll catch me up one of these days.’