The Book of Crows

by Sam Meekings

  I woke up sweaty and shaking. But the bustling of feet and the slop of water outside my door told me that new visitors had been spotted coming our way, so I pulled on my robe and packed away my thoughts and worries until they were hidden deep beneath my smile.

  I think it was that day with the raisin traders, during some long and boring speech about the best way to shrivel grapes in the sun, that the plan first began to take shape in my mind. At first it was a silly fantasy, the kind of daydream I regularly indulged in when I wanted to escape from whatever was happening around me. As I continued to nod and grin at the speaker, my thoughts fluttered away. What would it mean, I began to think, if my future – as foretold by the crows in that strange and dangerous book – was not here, but elsewhere? If it was already written, then all I had to do was call it into action.

  The more I thought about it all, the more sense it made. After all, if the book told that I would escape, then all I could really do was go along with my destiny. I would just be doing what I was always meant to do. And if everything went wrong and I was caught by bandits again or starved in the desert or was found out and beaten by the Empress, then I could do little to stop that too. I just had to accept my fate. It was liberating in a way, knowing that my choices weren’t really mine at all, that all I was doing was following the path laid out for me centuries before in the visions that the crows saw amid the stars. In a way it was funny that, imprisoned in a small cavern room on a poky hilltop, I found freedom inside an even smaller wooden box.

  It didn’t take long for my daydreams to give way to musings of a more practical nature. Whenever I was walking on the trail between the courtyards I would stop to stare down the hillside and off into the valley, calculating the best way down, trying to work out how to remain hidden and considering where I would go once I reached the bottom. After more than five summers in that place I knew who the light sleepers were (Silk and Homely); I knew who was the last to bed (Tiger) and who rose the earliest (the cook and Boy), and who would be looking for an opportunity to run straight to the Empress to give me away (Tall). I knew where the food was kept, and where the Empress hid some of the various treasures she had accumulated. But most importantly of all, from the many tales I had heard from the guests, I had learnt everything I needed to know about the tracks that wound through the desert below, about the spirits roaming the plains and the talking rocks, the hospitable and not-so-hospitable villages and outposts dotted between the dunes, and the snags and gorges around the hillside that claimed lost travellers.

  One afternoon I was sitting near the gate, keeping an eye on the guard to try to work out how often he made trips into the bushes to relieve himself, when I noticed Boy up on the trail between the two courtyards. He seemed to be talking, though from that distance I couldn’t hear what he was saying. When I got to my feet I saw that he was standing over one of those sneaky brown snakes that sometimes bothered the camels, the kind that pretend to be twigs just to catch you out.

  ‘You ought to be careful with that snake,’ I called out as I walked towards him. ‘You can’t trust him not to swing that slippery tail and spit his fangs at you!’

  ‘I know,’ Boy muttered. ‘Can’t trust anyone. Everyone’s got fangs, everyone’s got bites to give you.’

  ‘Even me?’

  He shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘We do see more fangs than smiles up here, that’s true. But it isn’t like that everywhere. I think there’s usually at least one good person in every place you go. You’ve just got to keep your eyes open or you might never see them. Ugh, it’s an ugly thing, isn’t it?’ I said, watching the snake wriggle away into the bushes.

  ‘It’s all right. I wish I could hide as well as it can. You know, it can slip past people without them even noticing.’

  ‘You’d get bored if no one could see you. What would you do all day?’

  He shrugged again. ‘I’d get away from here, for a start. Maybe be a soldier or a traveller or something.’

  ‘I see. So what were you saying to old mister slimy then, hmm? I know you were whispering something,’ I joked.

  ‘No I wasn’t,’ he said defensively. ‘I wasn’t saying anything!’

  ‘All right, I was only playing with you.’

  ‘I’m too old to play now. And so are you.’

  He stomped off up the dusty track. I knew he wouldn’t thank me for following him, so I went back to my seat near the gate. I could understand how he felt. And if he was telling his troubles or his aches to that stupid brown snake, well, at least that was better than locking them inside and letting them feast on his heart. I watched him turn out of sight behind a hunk of rock.

  It wasn’t long before my mind wandered from the guard I was supposed to be studying. I started thinking about Boy’s words. What if he could be like the snake, and escape without anyone noticing? Maybe that was what was written in the book for his life – what if he really could do anything he wanted, like get away from here and be a soldier or a merchant or a farmer?

  The idea brought a smile to my face. To know that Boy could still imagine having a different life outside, well, surely that meant it was possible. Because if you can imagine something, then it’s already half real, isn’t it? Once you’ve imagined something, all you’ve got to do is wait for it to take shape. And if it doesn’t take shape, sometimes you need to give it a helping hand.

  During my time here I’ve learnt a lot about how the human body works. A little from listening to some of the guests talking, but mostly just from looking and feeling. Most of it is just common sense. Even a kid knows your heart, which brews up all your thoughts and feelings, is deep in your gut. That’s obvious. You can hear it rumbling sometimes, and when you’ve got troubles you sure as hell know it first in your belly. Dreams come from your eyes, lust starts in the bowels, and the only way evil gets in is through your nose. That’s why the first thing the midwife does when she hauls out a mewing newborn is pinch the nostrils. Curses lodge in that bit between your ears, and they’re the things that can set your head ringing like the temple gong. All the things you’ve ever done wrong stay in the blood, just beneath your skin.

  Love, that comes from the skin. It spreads out slowly, like a blush that hurries down from your face until every part of you is glowing, until you can feel it warm every stretch of your body. I’m not talking about the kind of love that lessens each time you wake up next to someone and see their raggedy early-morning face or smell their stinky breath. I mean the kind of love where you would do anything to make that person’s life better, even if it made your own worse. I mean the kind of love that you can get lost in, the kind of love that’s so strong that it doesn’t matter whether the other person loves you back or not.

  After that day with the snake the only thing I thought about was my plan. And I felt calmer than I ever had before. I was happy. I knew what was going to happen, because I was suddenly certain about what was written in the book. I knew how things were going to turn out, and that faith gave me the strength and the courage to do everything I had to do. And I knew that I had no choice: I had to do it, all of it, and I knew that none of it would really be my fault: it was already written in the book.

  I’m not sure how long it was between that day and the night I put my plan into action. I know it must have been at least a few weeks, because I had to make sure I knew exactly when the guard slept and I had to sneak out on the nights we didn’t have any guests to quietly dig up a couple of bottles of the camel-milk liquor the cook had buried for the winter. I spent so much time stroking those smelly camels that my hands almost grew fur. And of course I had to pack. So perhaps it was a couple of moons later. I’m not sure. Time speeds up as you race towards the future.

  Everyone was groggy, drowsy from a party the night before. Our guests had just finished their breakfast and left, though by then it was well past noon. Empty bottles and dirty platters littered our courtyard, while the cook, having been well toasted for his hushtar performance, wa
s snoozing amid a tottering heap of grubby bowls. The whole place stank of drink and piss, and there wasn’t a single one of us without a dry mouth and a heavy head. It was perfect.

  The three of us girls were beating out our sleeping rugs as the sun sparked copper above.

  ‘You haven’t been up to that soldier in a few days. I thought you were supposed to be encouraging him to get moving again so he can get out of our hair. What’s the matter, isn’t he keeping up his end of the bargain?’ Silk burst into laughter at her own joke. Tiger shook her head and smiled.

  ‘I’ve been busy. To be honest, with everything else going on I’d almost forgotten him. The cook’s feeding him and he can hobble about quite well on his own now. But I’ll go and see him tomorrow,’ I replied.

  ‘You’ve got to let him go, you know. He won’t be able to keep paying the Empress to let him stay here forever,’ Tiger said.

  ‘I know. I know.’

  It was still light later that evening when everyone turned in for an early night. Everyone except me. I lay in my bed, counting. I counted all the numbers I knew and then started again, tucking down all my fingers and curling up each one of my toes. Then I took the two bottles of liquor I’d hidden under the straw I slept on and tiptoed from the room.

  The nosy moon followed me as I crept behind the dozing guard, up the trail and past the cook’s room. I lit a torch from the embers of the dinner fire and, after reassuring the camels that everything was fine, I slipped into the soldier’s room.

  ‘It’s late for you,’ he said.

  I was surprised that he was still awake, sitting up in the dark with his arms wrapped around the wooden box. His beard was long and dark, his exposed stump as pink as a skinned lamb.

  ‘I know. I thought we could celebrate, though, with the leftovers from last night’s party. It could be our last chance alone together before the Empress sends you on your way now that you’re so much better.’

  He said nothing, so I set the torch between two rocks in the wall and handed him one of the liquor bottles. He seemed hesitant.

  ‘Come on. Won’t you at least miss me a little?’

  I took a large swig from my own bottle and he followed suit. It wasn’t long before we were struggling together beneath the fuzzy blushes of tipsiness. I took his bottle from him and poured the liquor straight into my mouth before bending down to dribble it past his lips. We rushed through it, all hands and moans, rocking against each other until everything disappeared but our bodies. It was the same as the times before it, that strange sense of belonging, that feeling of overflowing into someone else’s life.

  ‘I won’t forget you,’ I whispered, raising the bottle to my lips.

  ‘Please. Forget me,’ he whispered back, before drinking with me.

  Even afterwards, as we lay side by side and damp with sweat, he matched each of my swigs with one of his own, not knowing that where he was downing the strongest liquor we had, I was merely swallowing water, having emptied the contents of the second bottle into the young guard’s tea jar while he was squatting in the bushes. I was surprised to find how easy it was to put all my feelings for the soldier aside, to do what I had to do. After all, I couldn’t let my heart’s little whimpers stand in the way of history.

  Finally his eyes slumped to a close and his low snores stirred the air, the empty bottle rolling on the sheet beside his head. He may have been different from all the others I had known, but he was still a man, and there was no way he would have let himself be out-drunk by a woman. I untied the string across his chest and left the room as quietly as I could, his purse bunched in my fist and the wooden box containing the whole world tucked under my arm.

  The camels nuzzled my neck as I unknotted one of them from its stake and led it down the trail. We stopped at a cluster of rocks a few paces above the gate. I peered over to check that the guard was still asleep – too young to hold his drink – and the silence only spurred me on.

  ‘Did I have to stay awake all night just to play with that stinky camel?’

  I jumped when I heard Boy’s voice, and I turned to see him sitting on a dusty mound of dirt, just as I had instructed. He was rubbing his eyes. I smiled and beckoned him closer.

  ‘Well, yes and no. You see, this is an extra special type of game. Did you bring the sack I left in your room?’

  He nodded and pulled out the grubby hemp bag that I had stuffed with clothes and leftovers and trinkets. I put the wooden box inside, bound the top tight and slung the sack over the slobbering camel’s back. I put my hands under Boy’s armpits and he tried to wriggle out of my grasp.

  ‘No. Let me go.’

  ‘It’s only a game,’ I said.

  ‘I don’t want to. It smells and I’m tired. I’m going back to bed.’

  ‘No!’ I hissed. ‘Get up there now!’

  Something in my tone made him give in, and he let me raise him up until he could pull himself into the crease between the two humps. I placed my hands on his and showed him how to grip the tufts of straggly hair on the animal’s neck, how to pull and twist and tug it in different directions. He grinned and pushed my hand away, telling me he wasn’t a child, that even an idiot could ride one of these beasts.

  ‘Now listen. Down there is the city. Don’t go anywhere near it, you understand? Just keep going east – follow the sunrise, never the sunset. You want to get to the middle kingdom. You’ll know when you get there because the people all have round faces and brown eyes just like Claws and the soldier. Try to join up with some merchants if you can, but watch out for bandits. You can bribe people and buy food with these coins – you’d better keep them well hidden though. If anyone asks, you’re looking for your father, who is a general now stationed in the capital and will reward anyone who helps you on your journey. What you really want to do is get as close to someone important as you can and give them this box. Tell them the emperor is looking for it. You’re sure to get a huge reward.’

  ‘And then I come back?’

  ‘No! Then you can be anything you want to be. This box is very important to the emperor there. So with all the reward money he gives you, and his blessing for bringing it to him, you could become an official or a merchant or a scholar or anything else you can think of. You can become someone else.’

  He looked nervous. ‘What about you? I don’t want to go alone. You’re my friend.’

  ‘I know, I know. But don’t worry, I’m going to get the other camel and take a different route. That way no one will get suspicious. I’ll meet up with you in the capital, as soon as you’ve given the box back. But now you’d better be on your way before it gets light.’

  He started to protest, a worried look still on his face, so I thumped the camel’s rear end to get it going. After a few uncertain hobbles, the hulking beast began to lope down through the rocks and dust, driven on by its new-found freedom. I waved to Boy as they descended, until not even the moon could pick them out on the star-lit hillside. Then I made my way back up the trail.

  I’d left the soldier’s door unlocked. He was still asleep, his head lolling back and his lips spilling out the faintest of mumbles. I clasped my hands over my ears, knowing that if I heard even a hint of a word I understood then I might not have the courage to go through with it. The torch was still burning between the two rocks on the wall. I took it down and laid it on the floor, a few steps away from the straw bed. The rest was up to fate, I told myself. It was out of my hands. I bolted the door behind me on my way out and crept back down to our room. Silk and Tiger were still fast asleep. I stretched out on the straw and drifted off.

  Everything turned out much as I had guessed it would – it was almost as if I had read the future straight from the book itself. The cook had woken first, choking on the smoke spilling into his little covered room. By the time he roused everyone with his frantic shouts, the flames from the smaller courtyard could be seen from the gate. When we spilled out of our room to see what was going on, the confused young guard was filling a bucket at t
he washing trough and the Empress was screaming that he might as well piss on the inferno – a single bucket wouldn’t do anything; the cook was sobbing about his trapped camels (although he was obviously not moved enough to return up the trail and attempt a rescue operation); while Tall and Homely were staring at the furious oceans of black smoke spooling up towards the clouds.

  ‘I was so stupid,’ Silk said. ‘Only yesterday I saw the shape of a bird in my glass eye. I should have known it was the bird of flame.’

  ‘Has anyone been up there?’ I asked, and each one of them shook their heads without turning away from the blaze.

  ‘The cook says the fire devils are after him and there’s no way he’s going back up. And do you really think the Empress is going to drag herself all that way just for the sake of a couple of old camels?’ Homely said.

  ‘And the soldier,’ said Tiger, quietly, looking at me.

  The young guard ran past us with the bucket, heading up the trail, his eyes stung red and his feet tripping over each other. It was not long before we saw him stumbling back down, coughing and almost crying, with the bucket nowhere to be seen.

  ‘We’ll just have to wait till it burns itself out,’ Tall muttered.

  ‘Fire returns everything to its beginning. Of course we cannot fight it,’ said Tiger. ‘It is a god, a state in which the spirit is remoulded. Fire is so hungry that when there is nothing else left it will consume itself.’

  She was right. All we could do was wait, and everything would take care of itself. Even the Empress’s rage died down eventually, despite giving the cook such a brutal thrashing – despite his adamant denial that he hadn’t left the kitchen fire burning that night – that we had to cook for ourselves for a week while he recovered. The nimble fingers of the autumn wind picked at the ashes of the camel, the charred splinters of four wooden doors and the dusty remains of our ruined supplies of dried fruit and kindling. The three of us girls were lumbered with the job of pulling out what was left of the soldier’s blackened bones.