Nondula (The Waifs of Duldred Book 2)

by Ana Salote

  There were many more tests to come. Febee failed again. Ferralee sent her off in tears to pack her bag. The rest of them tried even harder. At last Ferralee left them. They slumped groaning. They held their backs and rubbed their aching muscles. For whole minutes they were quiet but as they limped towards the vittlerie the talking began.

  Gritty fetched her food: two grain balls and some meat. It was the opposite of Nondul food. The balls were glutinous and slimy; the meat tasted salty, pungent and dead.

  ‘It’s a bit squidgy,’ said Lahnee. ‘It’s rotted too long, but it beats ants and crickets. Ferralee told the Felluns we need meat that leaps, like hare and loper. The Felluns said crickets would make us hop. She said crickets would make us chirrup, nothing else. She won.’

  ‘Did you know the Felluns never eat greens?’ said Myonee. ‘Not ever. They think it will turn ’em into Nonduls. They don’t like anything green, not grass, not trees.’

  ‘They can’t even see green,’ said Lahnee.

  ‘Some of ’em can,’ said Dulcee.

  ‘Some Felluns are more Fellunish than others,’ said Lahnee.

  The girls argued the point.

  After they had eaten they went to the laverie. Gritty joined the line at the wash troughs. The walls of the wet room doubled the noise. Gritty was a Porian. She had sharp ears and the babble pained her, but she listened closely for news of Oy. She noticed how Chee stories changed and grew. What started as mostly true soon became mostly lie. The girls spared no one. They talked about the Felluns, about other serfs and about each other. Some of it was funny, a lot of it was nasty and most of it stretched belief, but no one mentioned Oy.

  The talking tailed into giggles. Gritty turned to see why. In front of her was a towel folded over long arms, above that a narrow board of a chest, and higher still a long face with centre-parted hair and ocean-deep eyes.

  ‘Here’s our roomie, looking cheerful as ever,’ said Elfee. ‘Ain’t you ever seen a Dresh, Grittee? They’re born the size of your finger and they grow slow, only thing is they don’t stop; they just carry on growing all their lives. She’s deaf and dumb but she lipreads so take care. Long Lil we call her. I don’t suppose she’s got a name of her own. People that can’t talk don’t need names do they?’

  ‘Imagine not being able to talk,’ said Lahnee. ‘I’d rather die.’

  ‘She goes where the rest of us ain’t allowed,’ said Myonee. ‘Being deaf and dumb she can’t blab, which is a shame. Think of all the gossip we could get out of her.’

  ‘She wouldn’t tell us if she could,’ said Elfee. ‘She hates us. Whatever we do or say, she looks like this.’ She mirrored Lil’s expression of disgust.

  Laughter echoed around the pipes, walls and troughs. Only Gritty didn’t laugh. She watched Lil’s downcast eyes and felt their mystery.

  Gritty was still thinking about Lil when out of the mass of voices she heard this: ‘She weren’t much to look at. Guards were taking her up the Stagus Veela. Three guards round this drab little woman. One of their thighs was bigger’n she was.’

  ‘Sounds like a Nondul,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Could’ve been, except for the colouring; her hair was on the quiet side.’

  ‘How high?’ asked Gritty

  ‘Not much bigger ’n you. What do you know?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Gritty, and the chatter swept on without her.

  ‘You had the floor and you gave it away,’ whispered Jefee. ‘If you don’t know something, make it up. You won’t fit in ’less you do.’

  ‘Don’t think I want to.’

  ‘We’re southerners, it’s what we do,’ said Jefee. ‘I know it’s quiet where you come from and that makes you a bit dull – I don’t mean that in a bad way – but you’re here now, where the action is. Make the most of it. Join in.’

  ‘Well what’s the point when half of it’s lies? How’s anyone to know what’s true?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ said Jefee.

  Lahnee overheard them. ‘Do you want to know what’s true?’ she said. ‘I don’t see why you would ’cos it’s boring, but wait till we report to Ferralee. She won’t have anything but facts. She sells it all on to the Felluns. It’s how she earns that gold she wears. All we get is “gavelar”, yet we’d do anything for that one word. Silly ain’t it?’

  ‘Gavelar?’ said Gritty.

  ‘It’s a southern word,’ said Jefee.

  ‘It depends how you say it,’ said Lahnee. ‘It can be high praise, but the way Ferralee says it it’s hardly any praise at all.’

  Next morning Gitty drew the curtains of her bunk without moving from the bed. The tendons on her neck stood out as she strained upwards but nothing else moved.

  Jefee eased herself out of the bunk above and dropped to the floor with a groan.

  She offered Gritty her hand and pulled her upright.

  Gritty froze. ‘Sweet bells, that hurts.’

  ‘Come on, it’s better standing up.’

  Gritty swung her legs out of bed. ‘Ow, ow, ow,’ she said with every step. The two limped to the cupboards while the seniors flitted around them, gathering clothes and talking, talking, talking.

  ‘Use the briar rub,’ said Lahnee, pointing to a tub of yellow grease. ‘It will get you through the day.’

  ‘When does it get easier?’ said Jefee.

  ‘It doesn’t,’ said Lahnee. ‘It gets harder but so does your body.’

  She was right; by the sixth day Gritty could get out of bed without groaning. There were no drills on the seventh day. It was a day of recovery but there was still work to do.

  Gritty and Jefee were sent to help Nanny Ogreen in the nursery. There were around sixty cradles in the room, all of them labelled. The Bungs and Sizors were on opposite sides of the aisle while the lower ranks were lumped together at the far end of the room. The babies were ruddy with mismatched eyes. Their limbs were triangular like hams, hefty at the top and tapering off.

  ‘I expect their hands and feet catch up later,’ said Jefee.

  ‘Feed ’em,’ said Nanny Ogreen. ‘Black horns for Bungs, brown for Sizors, grey for everything below. Start with the Sizors. This is for the lightweights.’ She mixed minced liver with milk. ‘I’ll see to them.’ The cots she tended were fenced off, tucked in shadow under a sloping roof.

  Feeding horns were lined up on the bench. The teats were made of leather and the wide ends were capped with metal. The girls took a horn each and approached the cradles. The babies squirmed with excitement. They bared their teeth, reared up and savaged the teats. They sucked faster than they could swallow so that milk flowed over their faces and ran in the folds of their necks.

  When they were done with the Sizors, they fed the Bungs. These babies were even hungrier and the girls noticed that their horns felt lighter.

  ‘Just throw the horns in the cots,’ said Ogreen. ‘They’ll find ’em.’

  The girls watched as the babies wrestled the horns tight to their chests and locked on to the teats.

  The lightweights were not so keen.

  ‘Perhaps they’re weak or sick,’ said Jefee.

  ‘I don’t think chopped liver will help,’ said Gritty.

  ‘Stop spitting, whey-face,’ said the nanny. The baby began to fret and snuffle. Ogreen stood over it with her fierce eyes and pitted nose. ‘Starve then,’ she said. The next baby was just as reluctant. Liver ran down it’s chin. Ogreen snatched it from the cot and growled at it. The girls saw that it was pale and thin, quite unlike the Fellun babies. Ogreen put the child down and peered across the room. ‘Get on with your work you two.’

  ‘Can she even see us?’ whispered Gritty.

  ‘She’ll see our shapes,’ said Jefee.

  After the feeding the gurgling started. The belly noises reached a peak and slowed to silence. The babies concentrated. Their faces darkened and eased, then the nursery began to smell.

  ‘Don’t just stand there,’ Ogreen chastised the girls. ‘That smell means the straw wants changing.’r />
  Jefee took an infant by the ankles and raised its bottom. ‘It’s a weight,’ she said. Gritty whipped the soiled straw away.

  The next baby lifted its arms to Jefee. ‘I think it likes me,’ she said, picking it up. ‘Oof – I swear it’s heavier than me.’ She tried to put it back but the baby clung to her. ‘Get it off me, Grittee! It’s weighing me down like a bag of stones. Ow! It bit me.’

  Five more rounds of feeding and three of straw changing and the girls were free to go.

  ‘I don’t know who’s meaner,’ said Gritty. ‘Ogreen or the babies.’

  ‘It’s the small babies I feel sorry for, the ones she was force feeding. It shouldn’t be allowed,’ said Jefee.

  Later that night Jefee shared her views with the other girls.

  ‘You mean the babes in the corner,’ said Honolee. ‘They ain’t Felluns. Know why they feed ’em liver instead of milk? To turn ’em into Felluns.’

  ‘And they sew one eye to make it smaller,’ said Myonee.

  ‘Nooo,’ said Jefee.

  For the first time Gritty joined in. ‘Nanny Ogreen favours the Sizor babies. She feeds ’em three times as much as the Bungs.’ Jefee backed her up and they carried on stretching the truth till it was clear to everyone that Nanny Ogreen was plotting to wipe out Bung babies and even to become the next Fellona.

  Some days later Jefee and Gritty took their turn fetching meat from the pits. Ferralee demanded it and if there was a surplus, she got it. They hurried through the fumes of the Saltway. Jefee stopped in the middle of the bridge and grabbed Gritty’s arm.

  ‘Look down there,’ she said.

  Sitting on the overlooker’s chair was Nanny Ogreen. Her eyes streamed in the stinging atmosphere and she held a cloth over her nose.

  ‘She looks like a big, fat baby herself stuck in that highchair,’ said Jefee. ‘Wonder why she got moved from the nursery?’

  Gritty waggled her tongue. ‘Don’t forget, this is power,’ she said.

  ‘Really? It’s down to our gossip?’ said Jefee. ‘Yehvo would be right pleased if she could see this.’

  ‘Write to her.’

  ‘Who knows when the next post will be? Poor Trotdog, he waits every night for nothing.’

  They followed the rank smell through the tunnel to Murkbarn and then Fowlscop. There, reaching up to close a cage was a boy.

  Gritty felt a wave roll from throat to navel. The boy dropped back on his heels and turned towards them. Oy and Gritty were face to face.

  ‘Who are you?’ said Jefee. ‘We’re looking for the keeper.’ She waved her hand in front of Oy. ‘Do you know who we are? We’re tumblers, come for the loper meat. Makes us springy. Do you speak the common?’

  ‘Burf’s over there,’ said Oy, still staring at Gritty.

  ‘I see him,’ said Jefee. ‘Come on, Gritty.’

  Gritty hung back. She put her hands on either side of Oy’s head and ruffled his hair. ‘Lor’ love you,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve come to get you out. I don’t know how but I’m working on it.’

  ‘I can’t go, Grit. Not till I see Bominata. Tell them – tell her, a healer has come.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s wise, Oy.’

  ‘You’ve got to. It’s why I came.’

  Jefee was looking back. ‘Come and see the bears.’

  ‘Oy, I’ve got to go. I’ll do what’s best for you. Trust me.’

  Burf waited at the far side of the pits. ‘He’s ugly as a squashed toad,’ Jefee whispered.

  ‘Meat again,’ said Burf as they approached. ‘You lot are spoiled.’ He draped a dead loper round Gritty’s neck. It was like a scarf of bones bagged in fur. As he picked out another for Jeffee two Felluns came through the door behind him. They wore spattered aprons and their hands were stained red. They handed Burf a list. ‘Terrible writing you’ve got,’ said Burf, holding the paper away from him. ‘What’s this? Three clackers and a spitter. I’ll fetch the birds; you take your pick of the cats.’

  Burf set off towards Fowlscop. The girls followed behind. Jefee wafted the air in front of her nose and kept on chattering till Burf turned round and told her to be quiet. When they reached Fowlscop the door of a pen stood open. Oy was inside filling a seed trough. ‘Any wiskins in there?’ Burf asked him.

  Oy stepped sideways shielding a speckled bird half buried in straw. ‘Why?’ he said.

  ‘Don’t ask me why,’ said Burf. ‘Why do you think? Slorterboys are waiting. Bring me whatever’s there. Pick three fat ones. I can’t see to catch ’em.’

  Oy looked from one bird to another in despair. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry,’ he said under his breath as he lifted one and held it close to his chest. Gritty and Jefee watched. Oy looked straight at Gritty. ‘Free the animals,’ he said.

  ‘What did you say?’ said Burf.

  ‘Free animals,’ said Gritty. She lifted the loper’s head where it hung over her shoulder. ‘The meat – it’s free.’

  ‘What’s that got to do with him?’ said Burf. ‘And what’s he got to do with you? And why don’t you lot ever stop talking? Go on, get out of here.’ He pushed the girls away from him.

  Before they left Fowlscop Gritty looked back. Burf held three flapping birds by their feet. He knocked them against his thigh to quieten them. Oy watched helplessly.

  Jefee held her nose as they passed the dungpods and spoke in a nasal voice. ‘Don’t know what smells worse, this, the pits or Burf. Any idea who that strange boy was?’

  ‘No,’ said Gritty.

  ‘You know something. I saw you speak to him and he was looking right at you when he said “free the animals”. Why would he say that?’

  ‘How would I know?’

  ‘Well he ain’t Chee that’s for sure. Something Nondul about him.’

  ‘Jefee, don’t tell anyone about the boy.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Just don’t.’

  ‘I won’t if you tell me why.’

  ‘Because... because it could get him killed.’

  ‘You’re a dark one. I had a feeling that quietness of yours was fake. What are you really up to?’

  ‘Jefee, please don’t say anything. You’re going to have to trust me now. The boy’s name is Oy.’

  ‘Strange name.’

  ‘He’s a dear friend and his life is in danger. If you prove you can keep that much secret I’ll tell you more.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Soon, so no blabbing.’

  ‘How soon?’

  ‘Soon as I can. What we did with Nanny Ogreen was good gossip. This would be very bad gossip.’

  ‘What if I blurt?’

  ‘Jefee!’

  Jefee practised holding the news in her head. It moved from her head to her mouth. Like a sneeze, the more she held it, the more it longed to explode.

  13 The Postdog

  Gritty lay staring into darkness. Oy wanted her to give him up to Bominata. She didn’t think she could do it. She remembered Emberd’s words: the healers were thrown from the Akwon. He didn’t think it was survivable. She had come to Fellund to get Oy out, not to get him killed. Yet his little face and voice were insistent. He was so honest and simple it gave power to what he said. Oy had made dangerous choices before. He had been right each time. What was she to do?

  In class she quietened her mind by punishing her body. At the water fountain Jefee pulled her aside. ‘Don’t go at it so hard. Elfee don’t like competition, she’s liable to turn on you.’

  After the warm down they sat in a circle while Ferralee faulted them all by name. When she came to Gritty she did a rare thing; she praised her.

  ‘Gritty, there were times today when you worked as hard as you possibly could. That is all I ever ask. Gavelar.’

  Ferralee never gave praise without an equal amount of criticism, but for once there was no sting.

  Elfee glared at Gritty.

  ‘Now,’ said Ferralee, ‘what news?’ Seven girls raised their hands. ‘I warn you, no silly gossip.’ Four girls lowered their
hands.

  Ferralee pointed at Elfee.

  ‘Ijaw’s husbinding campaign is hotting up,’ said Elfee.

  ‘Go on,’ said Ferralee.

  ‘Ijaw has pledged twice in ten days.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘My aunt Meccanee vouches it.’

  ‘What are the gifts?’

  ‘Land from the top end of Carpya, and two new quarry: very fast – look set to sweep the next meet. Bominata was impressed because, as we all know, she lives for the hunt. She’s always on the lookout for the evilest dogs and the fastest quarry so she can scoop all the prizes and...

  Ferralee stopped her. ‘Since we all know, why say it again?’

  ‘Pardon me.’ Elfee took a breath. ‘Here’s another fact, and again this is vouched by my aunt. After Ijaw presents his gifts Bominata keeps him for close on two hours. Rigaw waits outside getting madder and madder. Soon as Ijaw leaves Rigaw goes in.’ Elfee slowed down choosing her words as carefully as she trod the balance beam. ‘Well, Rigaw shouts at the Fellona, and as we all know that’s a dangerous thing...’ She shook her head denying her own runaway tongue and started again. ‘Anyway my aunt looks through the gap in the screen. Bominata kicks Rigaw, kicks and punches him. He takes so much, then out he charges, head pumped like a purple beet and off to the sangary where he drinks enough ale to float a fleet and...’

  ‘Are you telling me your aunt followed him to the sangary?’

  ‘No’m. I should’ve finished at the purple beet.’

  ‘Beet belongs in a field. Too much blather as usual, but gavelar; your aunt is useful.’

  The gavelar was grudging, more for the aunt than for Elfee. Elfee’s fists tightened.

  It was Lahnee’s turn. She had rehearsed her speech cutting a few hundred words and then a few hundred more to arrive at the starkest of facts. ‘The Akwon channels have been dredged. They must be getting it ready for a dunking.’

  It wasn’t stark enough. ‘It’s not for you to speculate,’ said Ferralee, ‘but gavelar.’

  ‘I saw three guards taking a woman up the Stagus Veela,’ said Myonee. ‘She could’ve been a Nondul.’