Pallahaxi

by Michael Coney

  “Uh,” I said noncommittally.

  “If I get out of this and you think I’m going bad again, you know, being bossy and horrid, will you tell me?”

  “Right.”

  I was sure she was sincere, and we talked some more, huddled close together and shivering from time to time. She tried to laugh sometimes; she cried a lot more—but softly from the pain, because she couldn’t help it. I thought she was very brave about the whole thing. She was much too good for Wolff. Then, at last, the lorin came.

  I didn’t see them arrive, but gradually became aware of them watching us from the other side of the lake. There seemed to be at least eight of them standing motionless in the shade of a low tree but it’s never easy to tell with lorin; their bodies are so shaggy that they blend into one another, at a distance.

  I was worried about Ribbon’s possible attitude. “Ribbon,” I said quietly, “over there are some lorin, and I think they’re going to help us. That’s what I’ve been waiting for. Now you won’t start yelling or struggling if they come over here and touch you, will you?”

  She swallowed, watching the shadowy forms uncertainly. “How many are there? There seem to be a lot of them. Are they safe? What are they going to do?”

  “Take it easy, they’ll touch you, that’s all. Just relax and let them come.”

  I held her close to stifle her shuddering and she buried her head in my clothes. The lorin watched for some time then, moving together, they advanced towards us over the crystalline surface of the lake. Closer they came and I think Ribbon sensed their nearness, because her shivering became less violent and she slipped her arm around me and squeezed me—and I was calm enough to enjoy it.

  She whispered, “Drove, are they near? I’m not so frightened now. I’m sorry for being such a kid.”

  “They’re here,” I said.

  They stood around us, looking down at us with no expression detectable under the thick hair of their faces. I sensed the calm in their presence, the feeling of hope they engendered. I stood back and they went to Ribbon.

  She watched them as they squatted around her and there was no disgust in her eyes, no loathing. When they laid their hands on her, she didn’t flinch. She looked at me in mute enquiry as they drew closer about her, cradling her in their arms.

  “Just let them take over,” I said. “Relax and don’t worry. Go to sleep.”

  After a while her eyes closed and her body slackened, supported by the arms of the lorin. I backed away to the grassy patch and stood in safety, witching and feeling the balm of the lorin’s minds, so that I began to feel drowsy too. The lorin were motionless now, heads sagging on their furry chests as they grouped around Ribbon, a silent tableau on the glittering lake. I was sitting down…

  The next thing I knew, the lake was lapping liquid near my feet and the lorin were splashing towards me, carrying the inert form of Ribbon while behind them a slender tentacle waved in frustration. They laid her beside me then the largest one looked into my eyes for a long moment. Then they were gone.

  I turned to Ribbon. She was utterly still, her face pallid yet calm. Glancing around guiltily I laid my hand on her soft breast but could feel no heartbeat, no respiration. There was not even warmth…

  Maybe I left my hand there longer than I should; anyway, after a while there was a faint thump within her chest and a flutter, and her colour returned rapidly as the beat steadied and she began to breathe again. I snatched my hand away as warmth returned and she opened her eyes.

  “Oh…” She looked at me with a faint smile and touched herself briefly as though remembering something, and I felt my face go hot. “What happened, Drove? How did I get here?”

  “The lorin pulled you out of the lake,” I said briefly, and stood. Our period of intimacy was over; we had shared something and we knew each other better as a result and I think we were both glad of that—but now circumstances were back to normal. “Let’s go and find the others,” I said.

  She jumped up, completely recovered with no sign of shock, unharmed except for a faint blue bruise around her ankle; such is the way of the lorin. “How long was I asleep?”

  “You woke up almost immediately after they put you down.”

  “Oh. Uh…Thanks, Drove.” She took my hand. “Friends?” She was very serious.

  “Uh.” I grinned sheepishly.

  We walked through the swamp, keeping to the dry ground.

  “I hope you can express yourself better with Browneyes,” she laughed, glancing at me mischievously. “Otherwise she’s going to be very disappointed.”

  I could feel my face flaming. “What make you think I…?

  Uh…What makes…?”

  Suddenly we saw Browneyes and Wolff standing near the riverbank, and I let go of Ribbon’s hand as though it were red hot.

  “That’s what makes me think you, uh,” she mimicked, laughing. After the explanations and a few searching glances from Browneyes—who apparently resented the intimacy into which Ribbon and I had been forced—we resumed our walk along the river-bank. It was late afternoon and the sun was getting low, so we cut down on the reconnoitring with a view to reaching Pallahaxi before dark.

  A trail of smoke arose from the cannery opposite while a few fishing boats unloaded their catch at the wharf. Several of the deephulls were already pulled up on the bank, while others stood in shallow water with legs attached to prevent them toppling when the estuary dried out. A steam truck puffed its way out of the yard and raised a cloud of dust as it rolled on to the Pallahaxi road.

  After a short interval of suspicion Browneyes was holding my hand again and, as we dropped behind the other two and I made it clear that I preferred her company to Ribbon’s, she began to squeeze it and chatter happily. I watched the pair ahead with some amusement; Wolff had taken Ribbon’s arm and was bending towards her as they walked, and I saw that his nose was indeed long—pointed, too. He looked a large angular bird. I told Browneyes so and she laughed, then said after a short pause:

  “But don’t you think Ribbon’s very pretty?”

  I seemed to have heard this before, but this time I was going to give the correct answer. I wondered where all the confidence had come from.

  “She’s pretty, in a sort of doll way,” I said judicially. “But I think you’re much prettier, Browneyes.”

  As she looked at me her eyes widened until the sun-god Phu seemed to shine out of them, then she smiled a broad, dimpled smile of satisfaction. “Do you really think so?” she murmured. She squeezed my hand until I felt a cracking in the joints.

  At this happy moment Wolff interrupted us, as he had a habit of doing. “Look over there, you two,” he said. “What do you make of those?”

  There were several of them; they were large, whatever they were, and covered with tarpaulins. They were placed at regular intervals along the riverbank; turning, I saw that the line continued almost as far as the headland. I couldn’t imagine what they might be but felt there was something sinister about them; something relentless about the way they marched along into the distance.

  “I’ll ask father,” I said doubtfully. I could just visualize the blank expression on his face, as he pretended he didn’t know what I was talking about. If we were meant to know, the objects wouldn’t be covered up like that.

  We discussed the mystery all the way back to Pallahaxi, when it was driven from our minds by the news that Squint had not arrived home yet.

  CHAPTER 10

  Ribbon’s house lay on the north side of the town, well back from the harbour. As we made our way through the outskirts she invited us in for a drink; we were all hot and thirsty and her house was the nearest. I think Wolff was a little annoyed at Browneyes and I being included in the invitation. The house was very small and it was a blow to his pride to have it so spelled out that he was associating with the daughter of an impecunious fisherman. However, we soon forgot all that.

  Ribbon’s father confronted us in the tiny living
room. “Just tell me how you came to lose him. He’s only a child. You were responsible for him!”

  His name was Pallahaxi-Strongarm and the name was well chosen; he was a menacing figure as he seemed to fill the little room with his rage.

  “You know how adventurous he is,” put in the mother, PallahaxiUna. “You know you have to watch him all the time.”

  “Mother, he just went off,” said Ribbon helplessly.

  “So you said. What I don’t understand is, why didn’t you look for him? Why did you come back without him?”

  Ribbon’s face was pale; she was trembling and on the verge of tears. “We thought he was ahead of us, you see. We thought…”

  “You thought? You thought? The trouble with you is that you don’t think!” roared Strongarm in uncanny repetition of one of my father’s favourite sayings. “I tell you this, my girl, I’m going to take a strap to you. You’ve been asking for this for a long time and now you’re going to get it, by Phu!”

  Ribbon was crying now and Wolff stood silently by, face stiff with embarrassment. Somebody had to do something.

  “Ribbon got caught by an ice-devil!” I blurted frantically. “It took us ages to get her free and we really thought Squint had gone on ahead of us!”

  “She what?” An extraordinary change came over the huge man’s face as he regarded his daughter. “Where did it get you, girl? Are you all right? How did it happen?”

  “It…It took my foot,” she sobbed. “It’s all right now, really it’s all right.”

  Strongarm was kneeling now, tenderly caressing the bruised area on Ribbon’s foot with his coarse hands. “My poor little girl,” he murmured. “Does it hurt much now, darling? I’m sorry…I’m sorry I shouted at you.” He eased her shoe off. “Sit down, darling,” he said. He looked up and I saw that his eyes were moist “Una, fetch some warm water, will you?”

  They bathed Ribbon’s foot and rubbed ointment into it, consoled her and generally made a sickening fuss of her—and I began to get an even clearer picture of why Ribbon was the way she was. When you live with parents who keep telling you you’re beautiful and clever, then I imagine you can get to believe it, after a while.

  Afterwards Strongarm, a changed man, thanked me repeatedly for my part in the rescue and promised me the world, should I ever want it. Even though I was, as he put it, the son of a freezing government bum. At last we returned to the problem of Squint—who still had not arrived—in a quieter manner than before.

  “The little freezer’s probably down at the yard fooling with that waster Silverjack,” guessed Strongarm. “I’ve always said he spends too much time there. I’ll go and see. You, Browneyes, try the Grummet. Drove and you, what’s your freezing name? Wolff, go along to your houses and check—we’ll all meet back here. Right?”

  It was dark as I walked through the town and climbed the hill beside the harbour. I was becoming alarmed. I could think of no reason why Squint should call on my parents—and I was quite sure that Silverjack had fallen in the kid’s estimation since the episode of the steam launch, so it was unlikely that he would be at the yard.

  I couldn’t think where he was. I was beginning to wonder if maybe he’d never reached Pallahaxi at all, but was lying down by the river somewhere with a broken leg—or worse, in the grip of an ice-devil or an anemone tree.

  As I expected, he was not at my house when I arrived. Both my parents were in, however, sitting in the living room. I’ve often wondered what my parents do when they’re alone together. They must be pretty dull company for each other. I imagine they discuss the war, and father helps mother find the right places to stick the pins in her map.

  “We wondered what had happened to you,” said mother. “We worry about you, you know, Drove.”

  “I only called in for a moment to see if Pallahaxi-Squint was here,” I explained. “He’s lost. I’m going back to help in the search.”

  “You most certainly are not.” Father’s voice had taken on the adamant tone I knew so well. I’m not having any son of mine tramping the countryside at night looking for a fisherman’s brat. You’ll stay right here, my boy, and go to bed.”

  “What’s wrong with a fisherman?” I asked hotly. “You wouldn’t get far with your freezing cannery if it weren’t for fishermen!”

  Mother uttered a little gasp of alarm as belatedly she sensed a fullscale row brewing up. “Your father considers fishermen a very estimable breed of men, Drove,” she twittered. “And so do I. But that doesn’t mean we consider their offspring to be suitable playmates for you, dear.”

  “Playmates! Rax, mother, do you think I’m still a freezing kid?”

  “I will not tolerate your swearing at your mother like that, Drove!”

  “Well, that’s too bad, father, because I’ll say what I freezing well like!”

  “Oh, Phu…Oh, Phu…” lamented mother.

  “All right,” said father grimly. “All right. This time you’ve gone too far. You never know when to stop, do you? I can only assume that you learned this sort of behaviour from your friends, because you certainly never learned it from your mother or me. Now go to your room and stay there. I’ll see you later.”

  I knew there was no point in arguing further because physically he was stronger than I. Mother, to my disgust, was crying noisily. I went to my room with the feeling that I could be there for a very long time. Opening the window, I looked out. I was tempted to climb to the ground and make a run for it, but was deterred by the fact that it would solve nothing. I saw lights at the entrance to the field and watched as a motorcart came chuffing quietly across the grass.

  At first I thought it was Ribbon’s father, come to fetch me, but then I realized that he would never have access to a motorcart. It must be one of father’s freezing associates from the cannery, I decided. The vehicle halted just short of the cottage and gave a quick, short blast on the whistle. I withdrew behind the drapes as I heard the front door open. Father strode across to the motorcart and a man climbed out to greet him quietly. I recognized Horlox-Mestler.

  There was something furtive about them; I wondered why they didn’t go into the house, and concluded that it was because they didn’t want mother or me to hear what they said.

  “You know about the search for the boy Squint, of course,” Mestler was saying.

  “My son told me,” said father, equally quietly. “He wanted to join in, but I stopped him.”

  “Why?”

  “Well…” My father was confused by this. “I mean, it would have looked strange…The son of a Parliamentarian…”

  “Burt, You’re a fool and you don’t understand kids,” snapped Mestler to my delight. “It’ll look strange if he doesn’t join in the search. Relations are bad enough between the town and us already; at least have the sense to let your son show that we’re not totally divorced from the life and needs of the general public.”

  “It’s not going to be easy…” father muttered. “He was intolerably rude.”

  “That’s your problem. Anyway, that’s not what I came to see you about. There’s bad news, I’m afraid. The Ysabel‘s been delayed.”

  “Again? Rax, at this rate she’ll barely beat the grume!”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. As it is, she’ll probably have to offload at the new wharf—which is something we didn’t want. Anyway, I want you to organize that side of things first thing tomorrow. We must have everything ready. Make sure the cliff road is completed as soon as possible.”

  “Of course. Of course.”

  Mestler suddenly chuckled. “Don’t look so alarmed, Burt. It’ll all work out, You’ll see.” He climbed back into the motor-cart and puffed away.

  A short while later, father entered my room. I looked at him blandly.

  “I have been giving the matter of your abominable rudeness some consideration,” he said woodenly, “and I have concluded that there may have been extenuating circumstances. In your anxiety over your friend, yo
u forgot yourself. You are young, and the young lack control, lack discipline. As you grow older, I trust you will begin to realize—”

  “Look, are you trying to say that you’ll let me join in the search for a small boy who may be lying in the cold and dark with a broken leg?”

  He swallowed hard. He opened his mouth and shut it. At last he managed to speak. “Get out of here,” he jerked out.

  Outside Ribbon’s house I found a large crowd of people assembled, holding torches which flickered crimson in their faces as they listened to Pallahaxi-Strongarm. I joined Browneyes and held her hand in the darkness while Ribbon’s father addressed us from the upper window of the house.

  “I’d say we have about fifty people here,” he shouted, “and I’d like to thank you all for turning out like this. We’ve sent a message to the new cannery asking them to let us have the use of their vehicles.”

  “About time they did something for us!” a man shouted, and there was a murmur of agreement.

  At that moment a team of lox shambled around the corner, led by a lorin and dragging a large cart. Several more followed until the narrow street became crowded. The beasts stood patiently in the flickering light, heads hanging.

  “Meanwhile we’ll use these, which have been kindly lent us by the old cannery,” Strongarm continued. “We don’t want to waste time, so let’s all climb aboard and get going!” He disappeared from sight; seconds later he emerged from the front door and pushed his way urgently through the crowd, his face expressionless. His wife and Ribbon followed him and they mounted the lead cart, followed by a number of bystanders.

  “Come on, Drove,” said Browneyes, pulling me forward. We climbed into a nearby cart which smelled strongly of fish and sat on boxes lining the inside of the vehicle. Others joined us and soon we were all jammed together, about fifteen of us, grateful for the mutual warmth. The air was fresh with the night chill and I noticed numbers of people left the nearby public heater with some reluctance. The dead planet Rax glinted stonily in the blackness above. I was very conscious of Browneyes sitting close beside me and after a moment I put my arm around her. I saw white teeth flash in a grin from the opposite side of the cart and the flicker of a torch revealed Browneyes’ father Girth watching us indulgently.