by Tanith Lee
Later, when we’d gone on along the stream, which flows towards the south, there was something rather the same yet even odder.
About fifty feet off across the meadows, I could see more deer feeding from leafy trees. Then suddenly a creature came bounding over a hill like a banana-yellow arrow. I got hold of Thu. It was, I thought, some sort of big cat, perhaps a leopard.
I expected it of course to run into and bring down an unfortunate deer, and the rest of them to scatter and fly.
(From Argul and the Hulta, I know enough to understand it would undoubtedly be more interested in that than in me, M and T. But even so I was glad the now quite wide stream was between us.)
Then I saw the deer weren’t running away at all. No, they just carried on feeding. The leopard, or whatever it was, stalked majestically through them, ignoring them, until it reached what looked like a larch tree.
I was fifty, sixty feet away, as I say, and didn’t risk going closer. But the side of the larch – seemed to open, and something gradually eased out. It looked like a huge piece of meat. Not the kind I’d been offered in the morning, either. This was definitely stronger stuff, and raw – the correct sort of lunch for a leopard.
Maybe I mis-saw.
But really I don’t think so.
Later on, I saw something stranger. Well, ENTIRELY strange.
What I saw, and again I seriously doubt you’ll believe me, but please do, I did, was a tree, walking.
In fact, five trees, walking.
What a sight! I mean, they simply came over a slope in front of me, and for a moment I didn’t know what they were or what I was looking at. And then I did.
They moved by means of their roots, which of course were out of the ground. They used them in a sort of coiling, snake-like wriggle, and glided jerkily past me. Perhaps they turned their leafy heads to look at me – for all I know, they did. Do they have invisible eyes? To see where they’re going? Can they – or any of the animals I’ve seen – speak, as the sharks could?
I don’t know how much ground we’ve covered. The meadows don’t change to anything else, though they change their flower colours, long drifts of aquamarine, of blush-pink, whole hours of burning coral and marigold – woods come and go, some really going (I’ve seen it three or four times now), getting up and walking off – can they all do this? Slender clouds sometimes banner over on the gentle breeze.
It’s afternoon.
It’s – Heaven.
Yes, it is heaven. Even in the House, where they never spoke of God, or gods who may be expressions of God, there was still this idea of heaven, an exquisite place where everything would be lovely for everyone. For the slaves and servants, I think it was meant to be the sort of final reward we’d get after we were all dead of overwork. That is – we had to earn it, and might not.
This heaven is here on the earth, or at least floating in the sea.
I wonder where the others are? How do they feel? What do they think of this?
And what do we think of – Her?
Late, and a sunset even better than yesterday’s – and then the cool green dusk. Still keeping to the south-going stream, which is almost a small river now. When along the bank came walking what I have named the Dinner Forest.
Thu greeted it with a happy puppyish yap. I was riding Mirreen quite slowly, and the forest, of exactly forty trees, moved slowly to meet us. Thu was in there first, and then the forest halted. I watched the great taloned roots digging down into the ground. Perhaps the trees would get a cooling drink at the stream while we had dinner?
You could already smell the dinner.
Need I say, it was spectacular.
There were ten choices of soup, ten of main dishes and vegetables, ten of desserts and sweets, and ten of drinks.
‘Thu – stop it! Stop eating!!!’
Ustareth is my mother-in-law (what a thought) and we are her guests (taken guest again) and will this all poison us in the end? Or is she only thinking we’ll conveniently burst?
Fireflies, scores of them, gave us candles as we dined. Enough too to give me light as I scribble.
One nightingale, then others, sang across the meadows.
The moon rose, slim and like a bow.
Oh Argul.
And oh, Ustareth.
The statues are back. All of them. There are thirteen. I’ve counted them. No proper approach either, they were just there.
What happened was, the Dinner Forest stayed. It folded up what hadn’t been used and became solely tree-like. The moss was thick and soft by the stream, and I thought it had become more so. Warm, soft weather, fine for sleeping out. (I keep remembering what was said at Peshamba – about someone stealing all the good weather for private use—) Thu and I got ready to sleep, and I hoped he would stay close – and Mirreen. Even if I felt I should, tethering either of them to anything didn’t seem a wise idea. Because tie them to a tree, and then what if the tree decides to walk off—?
Anyhow it was peaceful, and the nightingales sang me to sleep.
The moon was far down in the west when Thu woke me, barging up.
Through the standing trees I could see some pale forms loping along. I thought they were wolves. I perhaps sillily thought, They don’t need to come after us, the trees keep them fed. Wolves anyway are all right, unless starving. These looked sleek and healthily wild. They simply wolfed along on their own moon-called business.
And Thu was very eager to go with them.
‘Sorry, Thu, but no. I know they’re your half brothers. But.’
Half brothers. Like Venn and Argul. Half brothers of the Wolf Tower—
I felt a painful roll of loneliness go through me for Argul. No matter if this were heaven, how I missed him. I hadn’t even dreamed of him again.
And then there came this disturbance in the air inside the forest, which took my mind off everything else. What was it? Was it little miniature moths, columns of them, dancing there in the dregs of sinking moon? That’s what it looked like. But six columns. Then eight – nine—
Thu growled. Mirreen raised her head from the sweet grass and trampled.
I got up and went to her, and in that second, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen moth columns all fizzed with moonish light – and there stood Ustareth’s guard-watchers, the masked statues from Peshamba.
I yelled. To my disheartenment rather, Thu – wagged his tail.
‘All right,’ I said, ‘what now?’
And then I saw – that each of the mask-faces had now opened a pair of wide blue firefly eyes.
Watchers indeed. I moved, the eyes followed me.
So did I run? No. Again I walked up to them. I counted them carefully. As I stood in front of each, the eyes looked down at me, then looked sideways at me as I moved on.
‘What do you want?’
Luminous and unnerving, the blue eyes all met mine now as I turned from one to the other.
Was I afraid? Oddly no, not any more. I felt finally more curious.
And so in the end I walked right up to one, the one in the melon hat. It was much taller than me, but now it bowed over, so I could stare right in at its eyes.
I’m not sure what I expected. I think, to see another pair of eyes (Hers?) looking back at me from behind the mask-eyes. And surely that would have scared me? I don’t know. And it isn’t what I saw.
Inside the first pair of eyes—
I really stared. Then I leaned forward, surprising myself I suppose, and put my face up close to the mask. I looked right in through the eyes of the statue.
And there beyond I saw Venn, sitting by a camp-fire, and across from him, sat Dengwi.
‘Venn!’ I exclaimed.
And Venn jumped. He raised his head and looked around. Then I heard him speak. Heard him clearly, as if he were only an arm’s length away.
‘Am I losing my mind?’ he said.
And then Dengwi, ‘No, I heard it too.’
‘It sounded like Claidi.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘But this is a strange place. Full of high-science magic, and tricks.’
‘And I was thinking of her,’ he said. He leaned on a tree, moodily. (They were in a wood like the Dinner Forest, and through the trees I could see other meadows, all white flowers burning in thin moonlight.)
Dengwi just put another stick on to the fire.
I thought, They’re not rowing any more. I thought, Should they have lit that fire? And how did they get the wood – does it hurt these trees to do that?
But I didn’t speak aloud now. To them I was unseen, my voice one more game Heaven was playing with them.
‘Yes,’ said Venn. ‘I behaved badly to her. I behaved like a fool and a – what is it, that word she used to use? An okko, something like that. Hulta word. Hulta. I was jealous,’ he said, ‘I was a bloody disgrace.’
‘You want Claidi,’ said Dengwi, cool and still there in the dark.
‘Oh yes. I told her on Yinyay. But then wasn’t the time. I mean the time had gone. No, it hadn’t ever existed. The first time, at the Rise, it was worth a try. But I wish I’d kept quiet, this second time.’
‘And I wish I’d spoken to her,’ Dengwi murmured.
‘What do you mean?’
‘No,’ said Dengwi. ‘My secret. I shan’t tell you.’
To my amazement Venn didn’t try to belittle Dengwi for her silence.
‘That’s honest,’ he said. ‘I respect that.’
! I could just imagine if I’d said it – or if she had, a short while ago.
But then, she has this presence, Dengwi. She sat there truly like a royal creature of the night. She’d accused him of his royalness, but she looks more royal than he does!
They’ve certainly stopped rowing.
I sensed between them the seed of companionship. The same way he’d fallen for me, when I was the only new woman he’d seen in years, now he’s come round to her, because they are alone here together, and that unites them in many ways. (I wonder when they did decide to call a truce? How friendly are they, now?) He doesn’t seem as upset as I’d have anticipated. Has Dengwi calmed him down?
Also, puzzled, I wanted to say, How is it you two are together, but Argul and I—
But I didn’t speak. Of course not.
How could I again, out of thin air? Even if I swore to them it was really me, they couldn’t see me and they’d never think it was.
‘Well,’ said Venn, ‘let’s get some rest.’
‘You sleep,’ she said. ‘I’ll watch.’
‘No, then I’ll keep watch—’ all gallantly bad-tempered.
She laughed. Have I heard her laugh before? Must have. It’s a good laugh, and I don’t remember it. But Venn – smiled.
‘Fine. You watch first then.’
He lets her have her own way, lets her tell him what they should do.
This ruffled me. (Even like that, peering sorcerously at them through the eyes of a statue!)
I stepped back, and thought, That’s enough. And – the eyes of the statue shut. It was just the blank mask now, as it had always been before. Then it straightened back up to its full nine feet tall.
So I looked at the others, and saw that only two still kept their eyes open.
I walked, slowly, to the one in the umbrella hat, and as I got near it too bowed over, and there were the eyes all ready to be gazed in at.
I stared in – and there they were, as I’d half already known. So someone’s kept up the rows.
‘You’re never satisfied, girl,’ said Ngarbo, standing frowning.
‘Satisfied? With what? And don’t call me girl!’
‘Woman then,’ he said.
‘Don’t call me woman,’ she shouted. ‘I am your superior, a Raven Tower Princess.’
‘Sure,’ said Ngarbo. ‘And I’m a kangaroo.’
(What’s a kangaroo?)
‘You might just as well be. You are no help, Ngarbo.’
‘No. Like when I found the island in the storm that time. Like when I got the balloon down after you nearly crashed it on top of that Garden House—’
‘Rubbish!’
‘Like when I got us down the ramp here and you were squeaking—’
‘I was not—’
‘You were always a bossy spoilt brat,’ said Ngarbo.
‘And you were always a pain in the ear.’
There was something comfortable now about their argument. You could see they were enjoying it, relaxed by it. And it was another scene of an argument that perhaps they had argued all their lives, but only in private. Before others they fought differently, or were distantly polite, or intensely flirted with each other. This was – intimate and personal, this arguing, there in that other dark wood-forest among the other fields of flowers.
I wonder how they did manage that ramp – had it been like the one I hadn’t chanced? And what had they had for dinner? And Venn and Dengwi too—
I drew back as the blue eyes, foreseeing also what I’d do, closed, and the statue straightened up.
Then I walked off, out of the trees, down to the edge of the river.
I could hear the wolves singing now, proper non-talk wolf yowls. Thu had sat down, frowning like Ngarbo, perhaps thinking now these relatives weren’t that like him after all. The moon was going out on the edge of distance.
I wanted so much to look into the last pair of open blue eyes, but I couldn’t make myself.
And then, the quietest touch. I thought it was Mirreen come after and nudging me.
I turned. The statue with the black halo-hat had followed, and stood a few inches from me. Its shadow stretched transparent on the grass from starlight. Its body, head and eyes were bending down and down to where I could reach them.
‘Will I see him?’
I took hold of its stone arms and stared in.
He was there. Argul. He rode at walking pace through the night, sitting straight and strong on the horse that matched him. The moon was down, there, and the second ring of true forest looked very near. He hadn’t wasted much time.
He had no look of unease, irritation or anger. Or gentleness.
He was going south. Keeping on. Thinking of and aiming only towards that last confrontation.
With Her.
I couldn’t speak. In case he just … didn’t hear me.
There was room in my husband’s thoughts now only for Ustareth, and for her world, and for what she would say when once more he found her. The rest of us—
But all our nerves and squabblings seemed tiny beside this.
Did she keep us two apart then, because of that? To let him be, with his single-minded quest? To keep me safe from it?
The eyes of the statue close, knowing I’ve seen enough.
Ustareth, the Abandoning Betrayer, the Experimenter and Player of Games.
How can she have made all this – and be all that – ?
When I couldn’t sleep again, and couldn’t see to write, a crowd of fireflies returned and lit up all around. And by their little lamps, I’ve written this.
WATER AND AIR
For some reason I feel really great this morning.
As if something exciting and delightful will happen.
Then the stream-river opened a separate hot pool in the bank, just as I was thinking of bathing in it. And the pool water had also a gorgeous scent. I half expected the trees to put out towels, but it isn’t necessary in the warm air, I dried in half a minute. And now I too smell as enchanting as if I’d used perfumes from Peshamba or Chylomba. Once I was out, the pool shut itself up again, the reeds and lilies sealing over. They’d gone too, in the night, the statues. Gone where? Back to her, I suppose. (What I can’t understand at all is how they form out of the air??)
And yes, I’ve wondered if it’s me that was tricked, and what their eyes showed me were only somehow pictures – like those picture-butterflies I saw that time in the north. And I don’t think it was a trick. I think I was meant to see.
Anyway, now, I think of Argul, and the distance he’s cov
ered. I too now mean to get on as quickly as I can.
I’ve ridden fast. We cantered through the meadows, along avenues of trees, Thu leaping at Mirreen’s side. Once we all nearly hurtled into a herd of gazelles outside a wood, which only trotted off a short way looking miffed (the gazelles not the wood). Saw a tiger in the near distance, brilliant orange, lying along the bough of a tree, its tail hanging down. There were monkeys playing in some other trees further on. And I spotted an anteater (brown, long nose) and was pleased I recognized what it was – unless it wasn’t …
Have covered miles. Only short rests.
(I was dying for a cup of tea and found a tea-tree. This seemed extra peculiar really. Do the helpful trees somehow read my mind and appear?)
The river – it is a river now – still flows with us. The farther bank looks far off. Sometimes I see big fish down there, brightly coloured.
And I think, from higher ground, I begin to see the forest wall ahead.
When we stopped in the evening, nothing had happened one way or another, I mean nothing startling. I chose the spot to stop because some trees were walking over, and I thought they might be another Dinner Forest. But in fact, no. Then I considered what we – especially Thu the Ever-Hungry – would eat. But inside five minutes five more trees arrived, and supplied a very good though much more snacky supper. I was rather relieved. The other sort of meal is too much every night. (Thu still ate too much.)
Mirreen is blooming on the grass and clover.
As it got dark, I started thinking of the others, as I always do worse when I stop moving. Then, when I went down to the river and took an after-dinner stroll, I found three of the statues, the three I’d looked through last night, sort of waiting for me along the bank. All with open eyes. So, I looked.
‘Despite everything, I like this life,’ said Venn. ‘I like this walking and travelling on all the time. I was stuck at the Rise so long. My fault – afraid to leave. Afraid of everything.’
He hardly seemed to remember why he’s walking and travelling. Towards Ustareth, his mother.