Scatterlings

by Isobelle Carmody

  She looked up and wondered if the Citizens had D-jumped before seeing the dome explode. She hoped not. She hoped William had seen and understood what she had done. She smiled wanly, thinking how easy it had been to link up the retaliation programming of the master computer with the ship launch, so that when the ship was launched the dome and its smaller brother would be destroyed.

  And the domes, which would have acted as beacons to the D-jumpers when they returned, were no more.

  I did what I wanted, and no one was killed, so why do I feel that something is still left to be done? she wondered.

  ‘Because there is something else to be done,’ Marthe said.

  Merlin started, for the Rememberer had come to stand beside her so softly she had not been aware of her presence.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ Merlin said. ‘What else is there? The dome is destroyed. The Citizens can never come back and the earth belongs to the clans. The clans are safe from them.’

  ‘Are they?’ Marthe demanded.

  Merlin was puzzled. ‘What more can they do? Even the small dome and all that was in it is gone. There is nothing left.’

  ‘Isn’t there?’ Marthe asked.

  Merlin felt suddenly irritated. ‘What are you trying to say?’

  Marthe looked around at those sprawled out beside the fire, then she walked over the ridge crest, signalling for Merlin to accompany her.

  ‘My Remembering tells me that there is danger still,’ she said in a conversational tone.

  ‘Perhaps the Remembering is wrong. It was wrong before,’ Merlin retorted, recalling how the Rememberer had sent her away.

  Was the Remembering wrong?’ Marthe questioned.

  Merlin stopped and faced her. ‘Look here. Stop doing that.’

  ‘What?’ Marthe looked startled.

  ‘Making the things I say into questions,’ Merlin said angrily.

  Marthe shrugged. ‘It is the Rememberer’s way. We learn not to give answers but to help others find their own answers. This matter is not ended and the means to end it lie in your hands. My Remembering still warns that you are a danger and might destroy not only the scatterlings, but the clans.’

  Merlin stopped and stared blankly at the Rememberer. ‘In case you don’t know it, I saved them all from the Citizens. I got rid of the ones who were here, and I got rid of the ones who would have come,’ she said indignantly.

  ‘Tyranny is not the only danger,’ Marthe said firmly. ‘If that was all it was, the clans would eventually have dealt with it themselves. Know that there are more subtle dangers offered by the decadent old world to this fledgeling one.’

  ‘Even if that were true, the Citizens are gone,’ Merlin said, exasperated.

  ’Are they?’ Marthe murmured, then she smiled ruefully. ‘I’m sorry. The answer to your question is that no, they are not completely gone. A piece of them remains, and that piece is enough to destroy the clans. Think about that, Merlin. Only you can remove the danger.’

  The Rememberer turned back to the camp, leaving Merlin staring after her.

  She means me, Merlin thought incredulously. She opened her mouth to challenge the Rememberer, then she stopped.

  Suddenly, William’s words came to her. He believed the greatest difference between the old corrupt people and the new was the telepathy which prevented their world from being based on deception. He believed telepathic communication could not lie. So did the clanfolk.

  But Merlin could lie and hide her mind from probing. She had telepathy, but it did not stop her lying. That very ability had enabled her to access the computer and free the Citizen ship.

  And it set her apart from both Citizen and clan.

  She thought of the way Sear had immediately believed her the night before when she had sworn she knew nothing of the destruction of the dome. And she had done so without a qualm. For good reason, but, still lies.

  William’s wonderfully created mind graft had given her a weapon which had enabled her to free the clans from the domination of the Citizens. But now that weapon remained. The clanpeople were defenseless against her lies, and how long before they would begin to see that lying was useful and easy. How long before she would teach them how to lie and cheat?

  She shuddered, understanding.

  She was the last danger. The Rememberer’s seeing was true. All along it had been true.

  ‘But what can I do?’ she whispered.

  ’Only you can remove the danger,’ Marthe had said.

  Merlin’s eyes filled with tears. ‘I have to go,’ she said, and spoken, the words seemed to hover prophetically in the air.

  She returned slowly to the makeshift camp, her heart heavy and bitter.

  Marthe sat by the fire, feeding it twigs, restoring it to life. Her eyes searched Merlin’s face for a long moment, then she nodded.

  ‘You will go?’ she asked softly.

  Merlin nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

  The Rememberer’s eyes were filled with compassion. ‘I am sorry, but it must be this way. It would be best if you go now before the others wake. I will tell them as much as they need to know.’

  Merlin frowned. ‘Isn’t that a lie?’

  ‘A withholding,’ Marthe corrected gently. ‘Rememberers are trusted to withhold only what must remain unknown.’

  Merlin sighed. The Rememberer rose and touched Merlin’s cheek.

  ‘Life rewards those who do what they must with courage and conviction.’

  Merlin smiled wanly. ‘I find it hard to believe this is any kind of reward. I thought I would be able to stay, to make a home. It doesn’t seem fair. Where will I go?’

  Marthe pointed. ‘Travel that way. The land is wild and there are many creatures but no true humans.’

  Merlin took a deep breath and straightened her back. ‘Well, if I’m going I might as well go. Goodbye. Tell the others . . .’ Merlin looked down to where Ford lay sleeping. ‘Tell them I’m not like them. I’m an alien who doesn’t belong. Tell them I’m sorry.’

  Marthe inclined her head, and Merlin left the camp-site quickly, not looking back.

  She had been walking briskly, concentrating on the sweet, clean air and the warmth of the sunlight, when it occurred to her she had come away ill-prepared. She had no food, no water and nothing to protect herself with. She shrugged. Later in the day it would be hot, but for now she walked in the sun. She would have to organise food, clothing and a weapon of some description. Perhaps a stave like Era had carried. And then, she thought, I’ll have to teach myself to use it.

  She heard a rustling noise in the trees behind her and whirled, changing her mind about her priorities.

  ‘You are still easy prey,’ Ford grinned, striding through the trees. He was panting slightly.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she demanded, angry because he had frightened her.

  Ford smirked. ‘Following you.’

  ‘Really?’ Merlin grated. ‘What I want to know is why you feel compelled to follow me?’

  The scatterling laughed aloud, a merry sound that rang in the air. ‘I wanted to,’ he said. Merlin opened her mouth, but before she could utter a word, Ford leaned over and set down a great bag he had been carrying over one shoulder.

  ‘What on earth . . .?’ Merlin said.

  He knelt and untied the edges of the bag to reveal knives and skins and food and tinder and boots. ‘I packed in a hurry,’ he said. ‘You didn’t give me much choice.’

  ‘Much . . . I didn’t ask you to come! I don’t want you to come.’

  ‘Don’t you?’ Ford asked, sounding for all the world like the Rememberer.

  ‘Don’t do that,’ Merlin snapped.

  Ford began to divide the cache. ‘I’m glad I finally caught up with you because you can take some of this. You can have this knife and this cloak. Oh, and you can carry . . .’

  Merlin sighed in exasperation. ‘You’re not coming with me,’ she said firmly.

  ‘Haven’t we gone through this before?’ Ford asked, imperturba
bly continuing to divide his goods.

  ‘You can’t come,’ Merlin said. ‘Marthe . . .’

  Ford smiled delightedly. ‘Oh, Marthe. Well, as a matter of fact, she sent me.’

  ‘What!’

  ‘She did,’ Ford said. ‘She told me you had gone off and you had forgotten everything. What with one thing and another we thought I should come after you.’

  ‘Oh, you did, did you?’ Merlin asked with asperity.

  Ford smiled. ‘You see, she Remembered a little bit more. She Remembered that I was supposed to come with you, to keep you out of trouble. You wouldn’t last a day on your own.’

  ‘I don’t believe you.’

  ‘It’s true, there are wild creatures and look how close I got before you heard me . . .’

  ‘I don’t mean that, I mean I don’t believe Marthe Remembered any such thing.’

  ‘Clanfolk don’t lie,’ Ford said.

  Merlin opened her mouth, then closed it, realising if Ford were telling a lie, he had already been affected by her, and if he weren’t lying, Marthe really had Remembered something more.

  ‘Good,’ Ford said. ‘Now that’s settled, how about something to eat. I left without breakfast and I’m starving.’

  ‘I have been this way before, though it is forbidden. There are more of the old places that you call cities this way,’ Ford Sent.

  Merlin looked at him with interest. ‘Really? And they’re all empty?’ She was enjoying her increasing mastery of talking mind to mind.

  Ford shrugged. ‘There are no clan tribes.’

  Merlin looked forward with new interest. They had left the Region of Great Trees the previous day and now they walked over what seemed to be an endless grassy plain.

  ‘How long does the grass go on for?’ she asked aloud.

  The scatterling youth frowned. ‘Rocky ground comes next, and then more trees. And beyond that are white hills of salt. At least I think it’s salt. I’ve never been that far.’

  ‘Hills of . . . snow.’ Merlin’s memory offered up pictures of frozen water falling as snowflakes.

  ‘Snow . . .’ Ford murmured. ‘What is snow?’

  ‘Frozen water,’ Merlin said with a thrill of excitement.

  ‘That Citizen who helped you escape,’ Ford said, very casually, ‘Danna said he was sick and pale like a poisoned foxen.’

  Merlin looked at the scatterling curiously. ‘His name was William. He was dying. If he hadn’t helped us, we would have been killed when the dome exploded.’

  Ford nodded. ‘Why do you think he helped you?’

  Merlin thought of the cold tender kiss of the Citizen boy, and willed a rush of tears from her eyes. William’s voice no longer intruded in her thoughts, but she could call it up as she chose, just as she could call up other knowledge bestowed on her by the computer. It was her legacy, and likely to be useful in whatever lay ahead of them.

  Ford was watching her closely, waiting for an answer.

  ‘I don’t know why he did it,’ she lied.

  ‘Did you feel the mating heat for him?’ he demanded.

  ‘I liked him,’ Merlin said. ‘I think this mating heat of yours is a bit more complicated than just liking somebody.’

  ’What is complicated about it? You feel the hunger, you share body heat,’ Ford said.

  Merlin repressed a smile. ‘It’s more complicated than that for me.’

  ‘So,’ Ford said, his eyes avoiding hers. ‘What is your way?’

  This time Merlin grinned openly. ‘We must know one another as friends first. We must share eating and laughing and crying and many many words before anything else.’

  ‘Friends,’ Ford said dismissively. ‘The clan way is better,’ he Sent plaintively.

  Merlin smiled broadly, then she laughed out loud. Ford looked at her, astonished.

  ‘Why do you laugh?’

  Merlin could not answer for laughing. He had sounded so put out! He watched her laugh and his astonishment made her laugh all the more.

  Reluctantly, he smiled, and then he laughed too, finally caught up in her mirth. But when their laughter was spent, Ford gave Merlin a cunning sideways look.

  ‘Well,’ he said slyly. ‘We have shared laughter. That’s a good start.’

  ‘Oh, don’t,’ Merlin begged, starting to laugh again.

  They laughed harder still, until their bellies ached and tears squirted from their eyes. And their laughter echoed across the endless flat plain that lay before them, startling a bird that rose from its nest uttering a squawk of protest.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Isobelle Carmody began the first of her highly acclaimed Obernewtyn Chronicles while she was still at high school, and worked on it while completing a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in literature and philosophy, and then a journalism cadetship. The series, and her short stories, have established her at the forefront of fantasy writing in Australia. Both the first in the Legendsong saga, Darkfall, and its sequel, Darksong, were completed while Carmody was living in Prague, and she now divides her time between her home on the Great Ocean Road in Australia and her travels abroad.

  She has also written many award-winning short stories and books for young people. The Gathering was a joint winner of the 1993 CBC Book of the Year Award and the 1994 Children’s Literature Peace Prize, and her most recent book for younger readers, Billy Thunder and the Night Gate, was shortlisted for the Patricia Wrightson Prize for Children’s Literature in the 2001 NSW Premier’s Literary Awards.