Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2)

by Ana Salote

  NONDULA

  Ana Salote

  Copyright © Ana Salote 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means without prior permission from the copyright holder.

  CONTENTS

  1 A Safe Landing

  2 The Hunger Dog

  3 A New Home

  4 Girl Blue

  5 The Last Healer in Nondula

  6 The Felluns are Coming!

  7 The Curse

  8 Berd Brain

  9 The Pits

  10 Kith and Kin

  11 The Trials

  12 Truth and Lies

  13 The Postdog

  14 Bad or Bad

  15 Linnet’s Adventure

  16 The Bom

  17 Long Lil

  18 The Akwon

  19 A Weight Off

  20 Hareboy

  21 The Oldest Bird

  22 With Forked Tongue

  23 Lellick Airyfluss

  24 The Book Tree

  25 Partings

  1 A Safe Landing

  Eight pelicans landed on the parapets. The birds lined up for inspection. The women pushed forward greedily, their eyes on the outlines of tiny fists and feet pressed against the beak bags. The pelicans opened their beaks and the women elbowed each other aside to peer into the flabby pink-lit pouches. The babies blinked at the hard-faced women who pulled them from the flying wombs with rough hands.

  ‘Let me see that one.’

  ‘He looks nothing like you.’

  ‘Here, want to swap?’

  ‘Give it back; that one’s heavier.’ One woman gripped the child’s legs; the other pulled its arms. The baby looked at the grey sky and bawled.

  And so the Fellun women haggled over the babies. When they were done they carried them away. They did not cradle, coo or show the least scrap of tenderness.

  The keeper yawned and opened the gate for the pelicans. The pelicans cared for their chicks; they hurried back to them.

  To the west the sun broke over storm-flattened fields. Five waifs lay where the winds had dropped them. They were Oy, Alas, Gritty, Gertie and Linnet. They had made it here by cart, on a raft and, finally, inside a tornado.

  When the storm had lost its strength, its anger and its purpose, it had crushed the raft and flung the waifs aside. In the hours just passed they had moved within waves and wind; the elements had run blackly over their eyelids. Holding hands they did not know whose fingers were twisted in their own. They had clung to wood and flesh in the darkness and waited for an end. At last they were halted, their breath snatched as they smashed into a new element. It was prickly and dusty, still and warm and safe. Exhausted, they had slept in a haystack threaded with flowers.

  Oy had a keen nose. At Duldred he had lived in a damp, dark basement and worked in a sewer. He shut out bad smells by thinking about things that smelled nice, mainly cakes.

  The air of the new land surprised his brain awake. The air was sweet with…? He opened his eyes – it was sweet with faded grass and papery flowers. He felt safe and snug and very happy. Then he remembered Linnet. He sat up and looked for her. White strands rippled through the green hay below him. The whiteness stirred and separated. Linnet shook out her pale hair.

  ‘Morning to you,’ she said in her croaky voice. She lifted handfuls of hay and scattered it. ‘Look, it’s all wove with flowers. It’s like summer heaped and left to dry.’

  Other parts of the haystack began to move. Gritty emerged spitting petals. Wide-eyed, she scanned around her. ‘Gert, where are you? Get a look at this.’

  A dark, hay-topped head appeared. ‘Where in the world…?’

  Alas had landed above them all. ‘Not so loud,’ he said. ‘Haystacks don’t build themselves. There must be people near. Climb up, but keep your heads low.’

  ‘Ow, that hurts,’ said Linnet as she began to climb. ‘Feels like I had a pounding in a wash copper.’ Oy shot her a worried look. ‘T’ain’t that bad,’ Linnet said with a laugh. ‘Lucky we didn’t leave no arms or legs behind.’

  ‘Survivors,’ said Gritty with an emphatic nod.

  ‘Only Porians could’ve come through that,’ said Gertie. She took Alas’s hand and pulled herself up.

  From the top of the stack the five waifs looked, breathed and sighed. Their smiles rose up and kept on rising like bubbles in a pond. They gazed at the dew glitter and the meadows all silvered with streams, at the softly rounded hills edged by forest and backed by mountains, and at something that was harder to name.

  ‘What is that?’ said Gritty

  ‘It’s got eyes,’ said Linnet.

  ‘A hill with eyes and hair,’ said Gritty.

  ‘And a cloud hat,’ said Oy.

  ‘That hair is creepers,’ said Gertie, ‘and moss cushions. The eyes are windows, coloured like beryls. “The Queen of the sky…”’ she began, quoting a favourite story. The others joined in, chanting: ‘The Queen of the sky passed by dropping her jewels in the moss.’

  ‘I’ll tell you where we are,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Where?’ the others asked.

  ‘It’s the land of milk and honey,’ said Gertie.

  ‘Get down!’ ordered Alas, dropping sharply. There were people in the fields. They seemed to waver in and out of existence, blending with the meadows but for a lick of fire about their heads. ‘They’re coming straight at us. Three – we can fight three if we have to.’

  ‘Slacken your strings,’ said Gertie.

  ‘They don’t look bad,’ said Oy.

  ‘What’s that behind?’ said Gritty.

  Across the shrubby ground beyond, a plug of something dark was moving. It broke into the open. The people in the meadow stopped like wild animals sensing danger; they made for a hedgerow and disappeared. The plug came on.

  ‘Big men and bigger horses,’ said Linnet, pressing her face into the hay.

  ‘They do look bad,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Dig in,’ said Alas. ‘Linnet, get that hair out of sight.’

  The waifs eased themselves deeper into the straw, drawing it over their heads. They waited, enclosed in prickly sweetness; intent, listening.

  Soon they heard aproaching hooves. Horses were turning and stamping below them. Men spoke with harsh voices and strange accents:

  ‘Take a stack each and search it. Don’t forget there’s a reward for anyone who brings in a healer.’

  ‘If we find someone, Capun, how will we know we got a healer?’

  ‘Why else would they be hiding?’ said the Capun.

  ‘Wouldn’t a whipping be more use than hide ’n’seek, Capun? I know some say whipping is pointless with Nonduls. They don’t show no signs of pain. But I reckon they’re feeling it underneath. They just wait for us to leave before they start hopping around and yelping.’

  ‘I have suggested whipping,’ said the Capun, ‘but the Fellona wants them brought in for questioning. She thinks they’re putting poison in our medicines.’

  ‘I can believe it, Capun. You wouldn’t eat a flower for fear of turning into one, so why would you take it in a medicine.’

  The waifs listened to the thuds of heavy men dismounting and the scrape of boots on stones, and another sound, like distant bees swarming. The buzzing was strangely soothing at first; then they heard the rustle of hay below them and fear took over. Someone was climbing the stack, cursing as he came. The man stopped close to their hiding place. He began to kick at the hay, then bent and dug with his hands. Oy felt the whisk of stems against his arm and air on his skin. He closed his eyes and waited to be hauled out, but more straw rained on him and he was covered again.


  ‘Looking for a Nondul in a haystack. Waste of time,’ muttered the man. He went back down to join the other men complaining in the yard.

  The capun gave more orders then hoof strikes blotted out the voices as the men rode away.

  The waifs waited for silence, and then for more silence.

  Alas lifted his head cautiously. ‘They’re gone. You can move.’

  ‘Size of them,’ said Gritty.

  ‘You were looking?’ said Gertie.

  ‘Couldn’t resist,’ said Gritty. Alas frowned at her. ‘Sorry. I was well hid – really. Terrible ugly they were. And the horses – hooves like feast platters and stirrups big enough to swing in.’

  ‘It’s the land of milk and honey,’ Alas mocked. ‘Land of whipping and poison is what I heard.’

  ‘Cramp,’ said Linnet. Her leg shot out, she tipped backwards, and tumbled all the way to the ground.

  2 The Hunger Dog

  Now something shifted. Something made itself out of air and leaf and landscape; it ran to Linnet’s side and bent across her, studying her dead white skin and hair, her grey rags.

  Alas didn’t wait to see what it was. He leapt from the top of the stack, tangling with the creature until he was on top and it was pinned to the ground. Alas was wiry, tense and set to do harm, but the face stopped him: the face was strange, beautiful and calm.

  ‘Beg pardon,’ said Alas. ‘I didn’t mean to be so rough. I thought you might be one of them.’ He helped the girl to her feet.

  The others slid and rolled down the stack. Oy ran to Linnet’s side.

  She waved him away. ‘Only a cramp.’

  ‘You’ve hurt yourself, look.’ Oy pointed to the purple marks on her leg.

  ‘That’s the battering we took yesterday I ’spect. One more bruise makes no difference.’

  The girl knelt and brushed Linnet’s hair aside. ‘Sirreye – hello, I am Ede. Welcome to Nondula.’

  Linnet gave her name and the others followed suit. Then they lapsed into silence, fascinated by the look and sound of Ede.

  Linnet coughed and touched her throat. Ede offered her flask. ‘Parched I am, thanks,’ said Linnet. She raised the flask and missed her mouth. ‘Clumsy,’ she said, and tried again. ‘Your colours are lovely,’ she said, handing back the flask. ‘Your hair is like a copper kettle with the fire shine in it, and your eyes...’

  ‘Like pomegranita,’ said Gertie. ‘That’s a purple ice that Oy made once for a woman called Jula.’

  ‘Jula liked purple things,’ Gritty explained.

  ‘Your world sounds very interesting,’ said Ede.

  The waifs did not feel interesting; they felt drab and sickly. At Duldred their jutting bones drew no attention. Here they looked like pointers to death. The soft air seemed to stand off so as not to bruise itself on the knobs and knuckles of them. Ede’s face showed her pity.

  Gritty looked down at herself and stiffened. ‘We ain’t been living in comfort these past…’

  ‘Wait,’ Alas interrupted. ‘Not yet. I got some questions. Pardon – you ain’t a wrong ’un I’m sure, but we didn’t warm to those others.’

  ‘They are from Fellund, over the border.’

  ‘Who were they looking for?’ said Alas.

  ‘It needn’t trouble you,’ Ede said. ‘I see the story of your eyes.’ Alas shifted uncomfortably. ‘I think you’ve come a long way. You’re weak and hungry. Please, come and eat.’

  ‘Hold on,’ said Alas. ‘Can you guarantee no bother from these Fellunders?’

  ‘You are safe.’ Ede offered her hand to Linnet.

  Linnet took it, smiling. ‘I feel safe.’

  ‘Wait, I ain’t finished,’ said Alas.

  Gritty held her hand up: ‘Well I am finished. Finished and famished. Now this good person has invited us to eat. I ain’t never been invited to eat before, so I’m accepting, before this chance goes smoking off like a dream.’

  ‘If it is a dream I’m staying in it till I’ve eaten, if I have to hit myself over the head with a brick,’ said Linnet.

  Ede laughed. ‘It’s this way.’

  ‘Well, I’ll admit I’m hunger-drunk,’ said Alas. ‘I’ll sharpen my wits with some food before I go too far with the questions. One thing I would like to know straight off: is there a living to be had here for strangers who are willing to work? I mean work as free people, not as slaves and servants because if that’s the set up we’ll be off.’

  ‘There are no slaves,’ said Ede. ‘A living: you can make living into work if you like. We live in jensis.’

  ‘Where’s that?’ asked Gritty.

  ‘Inside you. You know, when you’re not fighting time,’ Ede made fists in front of her, ‘or wishing or worrying. You make more space for your jenie – your talent.’

  ‘Has everybody got a jenie?’ said Linnet.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘My sister’s got a talent for reading,’ said Gritty. ‘Worked it out all by herself. Bright as anything she is.’

  ‘What about Oy?’ said Gertie. ‘His baking beats all.’

  ‘I ain’t good at much myself,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Not true,’ Gertie said. ‘You can climb and balance like a squirret.’

  Gritty shrugged.

  ‘We’ll help you find your jenies,’ said Ede.

  Linnet rolled her eyes. ‘Ooh, I’m going to get a talent.’

  ‘Are we heading for the hill with windows?’ said Gertie.

  ‘Yes. It’s called the Sajistry,’ said Ede. ‘We’ll go by way of my aunt’s kitchen. The Felluns headed for the grain barns so we are safe for now.’

  They walked on. The girls vied for a spot next to Ede. Oy hung back out of shyness. Alas stayed alert, noting everything around him. They entered a dell at the foot of the hill and lifted their noses. The smell of warm baking curled around them.

  ‘Ouch,’ whispered Linnet, holding her stomach.

  ‘What is it?’ said Ede.

  ‘The hunger dog,’ said Linnet. ‘Don’t you have him here? No, I don’t suppose you do. We keep him chained, but when he smells food he gives your insides a bite.’

  The dell was ringed by sculptures, or trees, or trees that had grown to look like sculptures, but the waifs did not stop to explore. Nothing mattered but the source of the smell. It came from a thatched porch let into the hillside.

  A woman came out with open arms and a delighted smile. Alas ducked away from her embrace, but the others were reluctant to leave it, ever.

  ‘This is my aunt,’ said Ede, and she said a name which sounded like Clair with a breeze blowing through it. The waifs could not repeat it. The woman said Clair would do. Next to the colourful Ede, Clair looked small, brown, and ordinary.

  ‘I thank Merocco for bringing you. We get storm-dropped birds all the time but never children,’ she said as though she’d always longed for the wind to drop children on her doorstep. ‘The loaves are waiting and over there’s a tree that will seat you nicely.’

  Ede led them among the living sculptures to the dining tree. A slice of polished wood shaped like something spilled formed a table. It was fixed to a stunted trunk which sprouted seats like fungus cups on curving branches. They passed their hands over the curves and sat in spoony hollows. Linnet got stuck with one knee on the seat. Gritty boosted her up. Ede and Clair began to fill the table with plates of bread and honey. Butter soaked goldenly through the warm bread. There were three colours of honey: pink, green and gold. The waifs stared and swallowed. ‘Please.’ Clair gestured for them to start. Their arms beat like swimmers as they reached across the table. They twirled spoons in the honey and dribbled it over the bread.

  Clair’s eyes were molten as they rested on Linnet’s ankles: a pair of bones, one crossed over the other; then on Gertie’s wrist swamped by her sleeve; and Oy’s jaw line, too sharp for a child so young. She fetched more bread and jugs of russip.

  ‘You say you weren’t headed anywhere in particular when the wind dropped you?’ she asked.

 
‘Away was the only place we was aiming for,’ said Gritty, covering her bread-stuffed mouth.

  ‘And is this away enough for you?’

  ‘I should say it is,’ said Gertie to nods and murmurs.

  Gritty sat back thumping her chest. ‘Slow down and chew,’ whispered Gertie, ‘ain’t nobody going to take it away.’

  ‘It’s just so lishus,’ said Gritty through lumpy cheeks.

  Ede ate with slow grace. Gritty tried to do the same. Ede noticed and ate faster. Gritty gave her a shrewd look and the two of them chewed in unison.

  ‘It wants a bigger word than delicious,’ said Gertie, who liked big words.

  ‘I didn’t know bread could taste like this. What’s all the pretty flecks in it?’ asked Linnet.

  ‘It depends on the season,’ said Ede. ‘It is always what you need.’

  ‘Zackly what I needed,’ said Linnet. ‘Thank you, lady.’

  ‘Thank you,’ joined the others.

  ‘Goes where it’s wanted, alright,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Oh Lor’,’ said Gertie. ‘It’s going everywhere from the ends of my toes to the roots of my hair.’

  ‘Lizbuth,’ said Oy. He put his bread down.

  ‘Lizbuth was our friend,’ Gritty explained. ‘She was so starved her hair fell out.’

  ‘Eat up, Oy,’ Linnet said softly. ‘We can’t help them now.’

  At last Gertie slumped and held her belly. ‘I’m sorry, the food is lovely and all. I never thought I’d get to say this, but I’m full.’

  ‘I’m full, too,’ said Gritty, trying the words for herself.

  ‘Full,’ echoed Linnet. ‘Full to my edges.’

  ‘Wait a bit,’ said Clair. ‘You might find you’ve a space left.’

  When Clair was sure that she had crammed all their spaces she examined Linnet’s leg and fetched a cream for the bruises. Then she sat down with such a listening attitude it was hard not to tell her all their worries. In particular she watched Alas. Alas studied the table gathering his thoughts.

  ‘That was a fine meal,’ he said, ‘for which we thank you. But full bellies make dull wits. So before we get any friendlier I must speak my mind. I want to know more about these Fellunders.’