by Ana Salote
Ferralee worked them half to death that day. She watched them dance alone and together, she had them do every kind of leap and twist, balance, pose and somersault. Gritty’s body moved but her heart was absent. She did not want to dance the lead. How could she dance at all when Oy would be the finale?
Ferralee watched over them the whole day. It grew dark and still she had not decided. ‘Free-style in the open,’ she said. She sent for a fiddler. The Akwagate guards let them through to an open court. The girls danced to the sounds of strings and thundering water.
Ferralee struck the floor with a stick. ‘No, no. Free, I said free. You are holding back, especially you, Grittee. Don’t dance like the serfs you are. Watch.’ She took off her wrap and veil. The girls stared. Ferralee rarely uncovered so much of herself. What an animal she was. Her braids were heavy and elaborate. Her oiled skin showed the separate muscles in her calves and shoulders. Her dress was like smoke around her. The fiddle wept and Ferralee began to dance. She signalled to the girls to join her.
‘Come,’ she said, ‘follow the tides, obey the moon, accept his calling card, swoon.’ She struck impossible curves. Her body was snake-supple. She bared her throat to the sky. The girls were transfixed. She took them by the hands or the waist and spun them with her until they were all away and dancing in fluid, oblivious lunacy.
‘This is how to dance,’ she said, ‘this is how to fire their dead eyes and their stony hearts.’
Gritty spun and the candlelight streaked. Her thoughts melted as she spun and leapt and spun.
The dance was over. Gritty never wanted to come back from the place where she had been.
‘There,’ said Ferralee, ‘that is dancing. Though I lied when I said this is how to light fires in the Felluns; nothing can do that. Grittee, you are expressive beyond your years, but you are not consistent. Elfee, I can always depend on your excellence; you will lead.’ Elfee clasped her hands and skipped. ‘Grittee, understudy. From now till the husbinding we will be working dawn till dark.’
Gritty despaired. She would have no time or opportunity to help Oy. It was too dark to see the waterfall but she could hear its power. What hope had he against that?
Day and night passed, and again they passed. Gritty willed them to slow down. They sped up.
On the final night before the celebrations the talk was not comforting. Again the girls reminisced about the dunkings they had witnessed.
‘Remember when that Nondul got stuck in a bend near the middengate,’ said Honolee.
‘Sshhh. The diva,’ said Lahnee.
The girls ran to their beds. Gritty was left to imagine the fate of the Nondul in a bend.
All around her, breathing slowed and gentled into sleep, but Gritty lay awake till the vents turned from black to grey. Then she dreamed that Oy was falling from the roof at Duldred. At first he was a far away speck. He came at her bigger and bigger. She tried to catch him but he slipped straight through her hands. She shouted and woke.
The other girls were already awake. They picked up where they had left off: ‘Like I said, stuck in the bend – caused a flood till they pulled her out. They made the tunnel bigger after that.’ Gritty sat on the edge of her bunk and prepared for a terrible day.
18 The Akwon
Oy, too, woke with a feeling of dread, and the certainty that the baddest day of all had come. On other mornings the slorterboys came for the animals. The smells and sounds of fear touched him at a distance. But this morning the fear was centred in himself. The footsteps were coming for him.
The grille opened. It was Scriberd. Oy smiled but Scriberd’s face was sad and serious. He asked Oy to go with him. He didn’t say where they were going, and he talked about things that didn’t matter. Oy knew why; it was to stop him asking questions. Perhaps he was in for another terrorgation. He rubbed his thumbs and fingertips together. He might not have so many on the way back.
But when they reached the square Scriberd did not cross to the Terror Gate. Instead he led Oy through the Bung quarter. The fort’s background rumble grew louder. Scriberd’s voice grew louder with it.
At Akwagate they joined a line of Felluns moving steadily through. Several turned to study him. ‘That’s the one,’ they said. ‘Small ain’t he?’ Oy looked up at Scriberd. He was afraid to ask the question in his mind. Scriberd squeezed Oy’s hand.
The gate led to a rock gallery with swirl-holes in the floor. They walked above churning waters. Spray came up through the holes wetting the stone. As they neared the far end of the gallery Scriberd’s words were half drowned by noise. Oy heard ‘big’ and ‘falls.’ They passed through arches into open air.
Now Oy knew what big meant. Rock walls soared to a patch of sky. Water walls tumbled from a place near the sky. At the base of the fall was a churning lake which split into three channels of fast water. The middle channel ran straight; the outer channels curved. All three converged and passed under the fort. Crowds had gathered around the channels. Near the end of each one Felluns waited with large red nets. What were they waiting for?
The dancers went to the launderie to collect their red dancing costumes. Jefee and Gritty were last in the queue. ‘Have you forgiven me yet?’ said Jefee.
‘What’s to forgive?’ said Gritty.
‘Making fun of Lil. I’m as bad as the others sometimes, aren’t I?’
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t mean anything by it. It’s just fun seeing her riled.’
‘How fun?’
‘I don’t know, nasty fun I suppose. You’re right, I’m wrong. Anyway, I’m sorry, and whatever happens today I’m here for you. Alright?’
Gritty leaned her head briefly on Jefee’s shoulder.
The queue moved on. Lil threw Jefee’s dress at her. ‘See that?’ said Jefee. ‘I could almost take back what I said.’
Gritty told Jefee to wait outside. Lil and Gritty stood on either side of the counter. Between them they held the four corners of Gritty’s folded dress. Lil raised her earlids. ‘I don’t know what to do, Lil,’ said Gritty. ‘What can I do to save him?’
‘Nothing you can do,’ said Lil.
‘Is there anything you can do – anything at all to give him a chance?’
‘Nothing,’ said Lil, but it was a soft, regretful nothing.
Gritty nodded. ‘If you say that I know it to be true,’ she said.
‘Not all of them die.’ Lil offered the bare consolation but Gritty understood. In honesty it was all that could be said. Lil pressed the dress to Gritty’s chest with her long fingers pushing her away.
There was nothing left to lose. As they walked to the drill room Gritty told Jefee everything.
When they had changed Ferralee gave them a last briefing and they headed for the falls. Once there they pushed through the noisy crowds of Felluns to the stage. They stood on the chalk marks and waited for the music. Ferralee’s hand moved over her diaphragm, reminding them to breathe. She nodded to the drummer. Three taps and a deafening boom. The dance began.
Gritty was thankful to her body. It knew what to do and it did it. She leapt and bounded, hurtled and flew. Her steps made patterns. Her head pointed down, her toes to the sky. She crouched and felt the warmth of Elfee’s body curved above her. Elfee’s timing was out. She held the pose a fraction too long and collided with Myonee. Creaking Fellun laughter broke out among the crowd. The girls recovered. They dare not look at Ferralee. The mistake was unforgivable. Only Gritty continued as though nothing had happened. She had other, greater worries.
Gritty was balancing on Honolee’s shoulders when she saw the crowd part. Emberd! No, not Emberd. This man was sallow and careworn. It must be Scriberd. She made a wheel with Myonee; together they rolled across the stage. Facing the crowd again she saw Oy following close behind Scriberd. He passed close holding her eyes with a sad smile in his. Gritty crouched again with bent head.
The Felluns watched the dancers with dumb fascination and a pleasant sense of their own weight and inertia. The Chee fre
ak show finished. The girls bowed to no applause. Not even from Ferralee. She was furious. She could not give full vent to her anger but she made a gesture that all the girls dreaded. She crossed her index fingers sharply in front of her lips. It was directed at Elfee who had caused the collision. Then to all of them she said, ‘Go and serve.’
The Felluns readied themselves for the main event. Gritty stood looking up at the falls. Jefee pulled at her sleeve. ‘Come on, we have to serve the drinks now. Did you see what Ferralee did? She corked Elfee. Elfee’s not allowed to speak till Ferralee uncorks her. Ain’t that the worst punishment?’
‘No,’ said Gritty. ‘Not by a long way.’
‘Well, not compared to a dunking, but bad enough.’
Elfee caught up with them. She gripped Gritty’s arm and glared at her. She stared at the top of her head and back at her face, then she pushed her away.
Scriberd pointed upwards and Oy understood. Scriberd and Oy began to climb.
It was a dangerous climb. Escaped rivulets glassed the steps. Oy’s foot skidded on a slime of weed. In places they stopped with water hammering their shoulders, barely able to see the next slippery foothold. At last they came to a drier platform. Hanging over it was a chair on a rope. Scriberd lifted Oy into the seat. ‘I leave you here,’ he shouted. He took both of Oy’s small hands in his. Oy said, ‘Thank you,’ grateful for something, he didn’t know what. Then he rose with jerks and pauses, hauled from above. The ground went away. The sky came on. Three times he was taken from the chair and put into another. The last stage took him to the top. It was unimaginably high and filled with sound and power.
The guards walked him to a half circle of stone jutting out above the falls. A woman waited. It was Clair. When she saw Oy her eyes flooded with feeling, but this was quickly replaced by a matter-of-fact look. She greeted him as though they were about to bake some bread together.
‘Who’s the first drop?’ said one of the guards.
‘The woman,’ answered another.
Oy felt Clair’s hand cup his head. The guard pulled her away and tied a red cloak around her. ‘All the better to see you,’ he said. ‘Like a red bird you’ll be – one that can’t fly.’
‘And we’re going to throw you out of the nest,’ said another. ‘How’d you like to go? Head or feet first?’
Oy moved towards Clair. He wanted to hang on to her, to be an anchor round her ankles, but the guard pulled him back. He looked down helplessly. The water was cloudy green and slow moving as though it held itself back from the edge. There was a gathering, a belling out, a holding on and then the fall, slow and graceful, full of light. Far below, a mouth in the rock spouted the waters of other stolen rivers. In places it funnelled into great hawsers of water. Lower still were broad glassy ledges.
The Fellun had Clair by the arms. He dangled her in the spray. She held Oy’s eyes calmly. Someone lit a flare. The Fellun let go. Air filled the cloak, a billow of red and she was gone. She was there and then she wasn’t there.
The men strolled off. They sat on rocks, picked their teeth, scratched and waited.
Down below there was a cheer as the first drop hit the water and flushed through the channels like a red lily carried on a flood.
Gritty was trapped at the back with her drinks tray. Jefee squeezed through the wall of Felluns. ‘Did you see?’ she said. ‘It was the woman. Netters missed her I think. Come round this way, we’ll get to the front.’
Oy sat alone at the top of the falls. The last moments of life are empty of past and empty of future. All that remained for him was seeing, hearing, feeling. There was a man and there was red cloth dropping over him. Tight grip on his wrists, sky and rock and rumbling. His body swung out, a stretch in his shoulders, release... Moving with the water, moving with the power of it. Like a fish, a silver salmon; flipping, twisting, spinning. Joy. Smack, his head split the water, and down, blackness in his mind, then silver, clear, and bubbles big as himself, stretching and breaking off like bread dough. His face broke air. He breathed once and the current sucked him down again. Sweeping through the channel – light, dark, light – the threads of a net against him, the bounce of the net, a cheer, swatted down. Oy lay on the cold flags, stunned, limp and broken.
Gritty saw red flashing down the falls, disappearing in the lake then hurtling down the middle channel. She heard the roar as Oy’s body was netted. She dropped her tray of drinks. Ale darkened her dress and ran down her legs. The Felluns cursed her clumsiness.
‘You’d better get a hold of yourself quick,’ said Jefee.
But Gritty was already pushing through the crowd. Her legs were shaking as she made for the place where a knot of people had gathered. Lil strode after her and grabbed her arm. Jefee followed them.
‘Let me go,’ said Gritty. ‘I need to see.’
‘Nothing to see,’ said Lil. She spoke with barely a movement of her lips. ‘He’s bruised and winded but he isn’t dead.’
‘How do you know?’ demanded Gritty.
Lil touched her ear. ‘I hear his song.’
‘What do you mean? What song?’
‘You hopeless flanners.’
‘Flanners?’
‘You folders and sitters, you that sleep on the ground like animals. Deaf to the world y’are. Everybody’s got a song. It goes on till you die.’
‘And you’re sure you can hear his?’ said Gritty. Lil stiffened. She looked down her nose and down and down. ‘I’m not doubting you,’ Gritty back-tracked, ‘but it’s such a long way to fall, and he’s so little.’
‘What would an ant do if it wanted to kill itself?’ asked Lil.
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well it wouldn’t jump of a cliff would it?’ said Lil.
‘Oh, why are they just standing there?’ Gritty stamped with frustration. ‘He needs help.’
The Felluns talked casually over Oy’s body. A guard nudged him with the toe of his boot. There was more talk and gesturing, then the guard took Oy by the ankles and shook water out of him. Oy coughed and moaned. His arm was hanging out of its socket. A slorterchef came and pushed it back in. Oy opened his eyes and closed them again. The guard threw Oy over his shoulder and carried him away.
‘See, he lives. You can stop looking so mournful,’ said Lil.
‘But he’s hurt. His face – he’s in pain,’ said Gritty.
‘Of course he’s in pain,’ said Lil. ‘He just got thrown out of the sky. Steady yourself. You have a good plain song. Your notes are falling short, all head and tailed they are.’
‘Come over here, Grit.’ Jefee pulled Gritty behind her. Lil followed them. ‘Can you go away?’ Jefee told Lil. ‘I’ve got something private to say.’
Lil put her hand over her mouth but she spoke explosively behind it.‘Private! You Chee don’t know what private means. I know there can’t be anything you know that I shouldn’t know because I am older and wiser ’n you, and don’t think I don’t know you know I should know what you’re talking about, because I do. And that’s not meant as funny so I don’t know what you’re smiling at.’
Gritty smiled weakly anyway. ‘I’ll keep no secrets from Lil,’ she said.
‘It’s your hair,’ said Jefee, ‘it’s dyed ain’t it? There’s a line down your parting the colour of wet sand.’
‘Oh no. How bad is it?’
‘I don’t know how I missed it. You need to do something before anyone else sees it.’
‘I think somebody did. Elfee was bent over my head, then she mistimed.’
‘Ah, I knew she wouldn’t crash for no reason.’
She’s bound to tell ain’t she?’
‘She can’t. She’s corked.’
‘Till when?’
‘Till she gets back in Ferralee’s favour.’
‘What if she tells her friends and they tell on me?’
‘Then I’ll cork her for good,’ said Lil.
‘Elfee won’t risk being sent back to the camps,’ said Jefee. ‘Soon as she’s uncorked she�
��ll tell and you’ll be terrorgated.’
Lil’s earlids made backward-facing cups. She was listening behind her. ‘The Nondul woman’s gone by the midden gate,’ she reported. ‘If the boy lives they’ll run him out as quarry. He’ll run for Rigaw against Bominata’s dogs.’
Gritty put her arm across her eyes.
‘You’d better sort that hair out,’ said Jefee, ‘or you’ll be the next one swimming in the midden.’
‘What if I’m missed?’
‘I’ll tell them... I’ll think of something. Go on.’
Gritty ran back to the dormerie and dug down the side of her straw mattress for the xanthus oil. In the laverie she tipped her head before the scratched metal plates. The fair stripe was visible even in the fuzzy image. While she dabbed at her roots her thoughts narrowed on a plan.
Over the following days Elfee held her silence but she stared at Gritty so often and so intently that the other girls noticed. They scented a scandal in the making and they began to watch her too. It was the last thing Gritty wanted. She forced herself to join in with the chatter. She drew on the stories she had read to make up tales of her own. The other girls warmed to her while Lil looked on with something like disappointment.
19 A Weight Off
The Fellun games were about to start. They would run for three days ending with a diving display by the senior girls. The husbinding would take place on the fourth day. On the fifth day the Felluns would watch the hunt as they feasted. Oy would be the quarry.
Gritty’s plan was to get a message to Alas and Gertie via Bagla. First she must find Scriberd and ask for his help. She asked about him in a roundabout way and discovered that Bominata was angry with him. He had failed in his latest terrorgation so she had sent him to the mines for a spell of hard labour.
Gritty’s heart sank. That left Yehvo and Trotdog. She talked it over with Jefee. How could they get a letter out by themselves and quickly?