‘Yes,’ said Hanno.
‘Well, boggle me!’ said Scooch; and he began to think. To be an inventor of biscuits! That would be something.
In this way, as in many others, with a mounting eagerness, inspired by Hanno Hath’s gentle leadership, the candidates in the Residential Study Course prepared for the day of the High Examination. For the first time in their lives, whether it was wanted or not, they would be giving their best.
Ira Hath and Pinpin remained on the wind singer all night. It turned out that Ira had planned for this, and had brought extra food and blankets in the deep basket. She had even brought night clothes for Pinpin, and her special pillow.
When they were found to be still there in the morning, another crowd gathered, to laugh and jeer.
‘Let’s hear you prophesy, then!’ they cried. ‘Go on, say, “O unhappy people”!’
‘O, unhappy people,’ said Ira Hath.
She spoke rather more quietly than they liked, and somehow it didn’t sound so funny any more. Then again, soft and sad, she said,
‘O, unhappy people. No poverty. No crime. No war. No kindness.’
This wasn’t funny at all. The people in the crowd shuffled their feet and avoided each other’s eyes. Then for a third time, most quietly of all, Ira Hath said,
‘O, unhappy people. I hear your hearts crying, for want of kindness.’
No one ever said such things in Aramanth. The people heard her in shocked silence. Then they began to leave, in ones and twos, and Ira Hath knew she had proved herself a true prophetess, because none could bear to hear her speak.
The Board of Examiners raised the matter at their morning meeting. Dr Greeth continued to argue against intervention.
‘The woman can’t stay there much longer. Better to let everyone see how futile this kind of behaviour is. She’ll realise it herself soon enough, and what will she do then? She’ll climb down.’
Dr Greeth was rather pleased with this turn of phrase. It seemed to him to make the point with economy and precision. But the Chief Examiner didn’t smile.
‘I know this family,’ he said. ‘The father’s an embittered failure. The mother is mad. The older children – well, one way or another they won’t trouble us again. That leaves the infant.’
‘I’m not quite clear,’ said Dr Greeth, ‘whether you are disagreeing with me or not.’
‘I agree with your approach in principle,’ replied Maslo Inch. ‘In practice, we must have her out of there before the High Examination.’
‘Oh, she’ll be gone long before then.’
‘And then there is the matter of reparation.’
‘What exactly do you propose, Chief Examiner?’
‘The conduct of this family has been an insult to the city of Aramanth. There must be a public apology.’
‘She’s a high-spirited woman,’ said Dr Greeth doubtfully. ‘A wilful woman.’
‘High spirits can be brought low,’ said the Chief Examiner, smiling his cold smile. ‘Wilful spirits can be broken.’
18
Crack-in-the-land
Now that the twins were on the ground, the Great Way, which Kestrel had seen so clearly from the high watchtower of Ombaraka, seemed to have hidden itself again. The low rising hills were scattered with mounds and ditches, and there were clumps of scrubby trees here and there, but no obvious broad avenue between them. Only the jagged mountains could still be seen on the horizon ahead, and it was towards these that they directed their steps.
Mumpo groaned as he walked. He had chewed too much tixa at the time of the battle, and now the inside of his head hurt and his mouth was dry, and he had that feeling where you want to be sick but never quite do it. Bowman and Kestrel were concerned at first, and very sympathetic. However, his complaining went on so long that after a while they became irritated, and Kestrel reverted to former habits.
‘Oh, shut up, Mumpo.’
After that, as well as groaning, Mumpo started to cry. When he cried, his nose ran, and it was even harder to be sympathetic to him, because his upper lip was shiny with nose-dribble. Anyway, both Bowman and Kestrel had other matters on their minds. As the trees became more frequent, and their path lay more and more through shadowy glades, Kestrel was searching for signs of the Great Way, and Bowman was looking about him, fearful of possible danger. He knew he had an overactive imagination, and he didn’t want to alarm the others if there was nothing there, but it seemed to him that they were being followed.
Then he saw something, or someone, ahead. He froze, pointing silently so the others could see. Through a clump of trees they could make out a huge figure, standing on some high perch, and staring towards them. Both Bowman and Kestrel had the same thought at the same time: giants. The Old Queen had said there were giants on the Great Way. For several long moments, they didn’t move, and the giant didn’t move. Then Mumpo sneezed, suddenly and loudly, and said,
‘Sorry, Kess.’
The giant showed no signs of having heard. So they approached, cautiously at first, until as they cleared the clump of trees, their fears evaporated.
They were looking at a statue.
The figure was at least twice life-size, and very old, and very weather-beaten. It represented a robed man, raising one hand to point south: one arm, rather, for the hand was gone. As was the other arm, and much of the face. The figure stood on a high pedestal of stone, its edges worn smooth by wind and rain.
Not far off there was another pedestal, with another statue. Now that they understood what they were, they could make out more and more, forming a broad double line through the trees.
‘Giants,’ said Kestrel. ‘To guide travellers down the Great Way. There must have been statues all down it, once.’
Confident now that they were on the right path, they pressed on towards the mountains. But soon Mumpo was snivelling and groaning again.
‘Can’t we sit down? I want to sit down. My head hurts.’
‘Best if we keep moving,’ said Bowman.
Mumpo started to howl.
‘I want to go home,’ he cried dismally.
‘I’m sorry, Mumpo,’ said Bowman, trying not to be too hard on him. ‘We have to go on.’
‘Why don’t you ever wipe your nose?’ said Kestrel.
‘Because it just goes on running,’ said Mumpo miserably.
When they had reached the forest proper, and there were tall trees on either side, they saw that they were indeed following what once had been a road. Some young saplings had seeded in the open space, but the really big old trees rose up high on either side of a broad avenue, just as they must have done in the far-off days of the Great Way. Satisfied that they were making progress, Kestrel said that they could stop for a short rest, and eat their food. Mumpo at once collapsed in a heap. Bowman divided up the bread and cheese, and they ate hungrily, in silence.
Kestrel watched Mumpo as they ate, and saw how his good spirits returned as his stomach was filled. It reminded her of Pinpin.
‘You’re just like a baby, Mumpo,’ she said. ‘You cry when you’re hungry, like a baby. You sleep like a baby.’
‘Is that wrong, Kess?’ said Mumpo.
‘Do you want to be like a baby?’
‘I want to be whatever you want me to be,’ said Mumpo simply.
‘Oh, honestly. It’s no use talking to you.’
‘Sorry, Kess.’
‘I really don’t know how you managed to stay in Orange all these years.’
Bowman said quietly, ‘That’s because we’ve never asked him.’
Kestrel stared at her brother. It was true: she knew next to nothing about Mumpo. At school, he had always been the one who was odd, the one to avoid. Then when he had become her unwanted friend, she had found his affection irritating, and had not wanted to do anything to encourage it. In the course of their journey together she had come to think of him as a kind of wild animal, that had attached itself to her, and become almost a pet. But he was not an animal. He was a child, like her
self.
‘What happened to your father and mother, Mumpo?’
Mumpo was surprised at her question, but very happy to answer her.
‘My mother died when I was little. And I haven’t got a father.’
‘Did he die too?’
‘I’m not sure. I think I just haven’t got one.’
‘Everyone’s got a father. At least for a while.’
‘Well, I haven’t.’
‘Don’t you want to know what happened to him?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I just don’t.’
‘If you haven’t got a family,’ said Bowman, ‘how can you have a family rating?’
‘How can you go to school in Orange District,’ said Kestrel, ‘even though – ’
She caught Bowman’s glance, and broke off.
‘Even though I’m so stupid?’
He didn’t seem at all offended.
‘I’ve got an uncle. It’s because of my uncle that I go to school in Orange District, even though I’m so stupid.’
Bowman felt a wave of sadness pass through him, and he shuddered as if it were his own.
‘Do you hate school, Mumpo?’ he asked.
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Mumpo simply. ‘I don’t understand anything, and I’m always alone. So I’m always unhappy.’
The twins looked at him and remembered how they had laughed at him along with the others, and they felt ashamed.
‘But it’s all right now,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a friend now. Haven’t I, Kess?’
‘Yes,’ said Kestrel. ‘I’m your friend.’
Bowman loved Kestrel for saying that, even if she didn’t mean it.
Love you, Kess.
‘Who’s your uncle, Mumpo?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve never seen him. He’s very important, and has a very high rating. But I’m stupid, you see, so he doesn’t want me in his family.’
‘But that’s horrible!’
‘Oh, no, he’s very good to me. Mrs Chirish is always telling me so. Only, if I was in his family, it would make his family rating much lower. So it’s better that I lodge with Mrs Chirish.’
‘Oh, Mumpo,’ said Kestrel. ‘What a bad, sad place Aramanth has become.’
‘Do you think so, Kess? I thought only I thought that.’
Bowman wondered at Mumpo. The more he knew of him, the more, in a strange way, he admired him. There seemed to be no malice in him, or vanity. He accepted what each moment brought him, and never troubled himself with matters that were outside his control. Despite the unhappiness of his lonely life, he seemed to have been born incurably good-hearted: or perhaps the one had somehow led to the other, and the many cruelties he had known had taught him to be grateful for even the smallest kindness.
They had eaten now, and rested, and the day was wearing on, so they rose and continued on their journey. Mumpo was in much better heart, and it was in a new spirit of determination and fellow feeling that they marched up the ruins of the Great Way towards the mountains.
Their road ran straight enough, but all the time it was climbing, ascending the foothills of the larger mountain range ahead. Little by little, the trees grew taller on either side, and closer together, and as the sun dropped in the sky, the shadows deepened round them. They began to see or to imagine shapes moving between the trees, and the glint of watching eyes. They kept close together, and walked faster, and it seemed that the shapes loped alongside them, always just out of sight.
When dusk began to gather, they realised they would have to pass at least one night in the forest. They kept moving, but now as they went they looked about them for a suitable place to make camp. Mumpo was becoming tired, and cared very little where he lay down, so long as it was soon.
‘What about here? Here’s good.’
‘What’s good about it?’
‘Between these big trees, then.’
‘No, Mumpo. We need somewhere where we can’t be seen.’
‘Why? Who’s looking for us?’
‘I don’t know. Probably nobody.’
But Mumpo got nervous after that, and kept jumping and looking round. Once he saw something, or thought he saw something, in the trees, and started to run round and round in a panic. Bowman had to catch him and hold him until he became quiet again.
‘It’s all right, Mumpo.’
‘I saw eyes watching us! I did!’
‘Yes, I’ve seen them too. So whatever it is, we mustn’t let it hurt Kess.’
‘You’re right, Bo.’ He became calmer at once. ‘Kess is my friend.’
He still went on looking nervously into the trees, but after that, whenever he saw a shape moving, he shook his fist at it and cried,
‘Come any nearer, I’ll bash you!’
So they trudged on into the twilight, determined to cover as much ground as they could. And just when they had decided the time had come to stop, whether there was a suitable camping place or not, they saw looming ahead of them between the trees two tall stone pillars.
The pillars stood on either side of the old Great Way, marking the beginning of a long stone bridge across a ravine. On the far side, two more pillars stood, where the land began again: far away, two hundred yards or more. The bridge was in ruins. Its two walls, each one capped with a parapet, crossed the ravine on two lines of immense stone arches, twenty yards apart: but the entire middle of the bridge, what had once been the roadway, was gone. How had these twin rows of soaring arches survived without the support they had once given each other? For the gorge they had been built to cross was stupendous.
The three children came to a stop by the pillars, and gazed into the canyon. The ground dropped away before them in a series of steep rock faces, down and down into the twilight shadows, to a river far below. They could see it glinting as it rushed along, passing between the two centre arches that held the high bridge. The further side of the canyon rose up before them, higher than any sea cliff, its fissures sprouting grasses and scrubby bushes, and crazed and riven with fault lines. To either side of them, the jagged edge of the gorge ripped through the forest as far as the eye could see, like a great knife-wound in the world.
‘Crack-in-the-land,’ said Kestrel.
There was no way across the great rift except by the bridge: and the more they looked at the bridge, the less they wanted to cross it.
‘It’s crumbling,’ said Bowman. ‘It won’t hold us.’
Eroded by a hundred winters, the masonry had crackled and broken away, leaving sloping shoulders of stone that looked friable and treacherous. Only the two parapets, cut from a more enduring stone, stood unbroken, forming a narrow but level cap to the remaining walls.
Kestrel went up to one parapet and felt its surface. It was firm to the touch. The top of the wall was about two feet wide, and it was flat. She looked along its length, all the way to the far pillars. It ran straight and level all the way.
‘We can walk on the wall,’ she said.
Bowman said nothing, but he was filled with terror at the narrowness of the parapet, and the dizzying drop below.
‘Just don’t look down,’ said Kestrel, who knew what he would be thinking. ‘Then it’ll be no different from walking along a path.’
I can’t do it, Kess.
‘What about you, Mumpo? Can you walk on the wall to the other side?’
‘If you go, Kess,’ said Mumpo, ‘I’ll go too.’
I can’t do it, Kess.
But even as he was sending his sister this fear-filled thought, there came a shuffling sound behind them, and an icy chill went through him. He turned slowly, dreading what he knew he would see. There they were, in a line, holding hands all across the Great Way. They advanced slowly and carefully, snickering as they came, like children playing a secret game; except that their laughter was deep and old.
‘You have come a long way,’ said their leader. ‘But here we are again.’
Mumpo began to whimper with fear. Kestrel took one look at
the line of old children, another at the long parapet, and said,
‘Come on! Let’s go.’
She jumped up on to the parapet and set off towards the far side. Mumpo followed her, calling out,
‘Don’t let them touch me, Kess!’
Bowman hesitated a little longer, but he knew he had no choice. So he drew a long breath, and climbed up on to the parapet. Moving with tense and careful steps, he followed after the other two.
For a few yards, the bridge wall ran over the broken edge of the gorge, and the drop below wasn’t far at all. But suddenly the land fell away in a sheer cliff below them, and after that it was as if they were walking in mid-air. The daylight was now fading fast, but not fast enough, and when Bowman looked down, as he had sworn he would not, he could see the gleam of the river running like a silver thread so far below that it made his head go faint, and his body started to shake.
Kestrel stopped to look back, and saw that the old children had clambered up on to the parapet and were following them.
‘Just keep walking,’ she said. ‘Remember, they’re old, and can’t go as fast as us. We’ll be on the other side long before them.’
She pressed on, drawing the other two after her by sheer determination. Bowman, looking back, saw that she was right, and they were crossing the long bridge much faster than the old children. Several of them were now on the parapet, coming one behind the other, picking their way with slow care.
Kestrel stepped steadily on, one foot in front of the other, not looking down, not thinking about the gorge below, thinking, Halfway there, not much longer now, when she saw on the far side a sight that made her heart jump. Beside the pillars that marked the end of the bridge stood more old children, dozens of them. And as she came to a stop, and stared, they climbed up on to the parapet ahead and began to shuffle towards her.
Bo! They’re at the other end!
Bowman looked, and saw, and understood, in a single flash of knowledge. This time there was no escape. The old children were advancing slowly from either end. Once they reached the middle, there was no way of fighting them off, because every touch brought weakness. He looked over the side, at the immense drop into the gathering darkness, and wondered what it would feel like to fall and fall, and then smash! to hit the rocks. Would the dying be quick?
The Wind Singer Page 17