Morace giggled. "He'll be mad."
"He'll never know."
Morace held up his smoothstone, a very old one from his father. "Should I bury this, too?"
"No! The smoothstones are past and future, all possibility. Not nasty like that thing." She flipped her head. "You keep your stone. Where is the one you found?"
"I didn't find one. Father gave me this one instead."
"We will find you one as well. It is important to select your own smoothstone. Part of your growing."
They could smell the Jasmine as they approached early in the evening. They walked along a path lined either side with small david-saplings.
"Welcome to Aloes," a beautiful woman with reddened skin said. She smiled.
The man Lillah had thought about for many months was waiting for her, leaping up and down. "You're here! You're here!"
Lillah looked at him and thought, Dickson. He has as little grace as Dickson. He took her hand and tried to lead her away. He said aloud, "No one leaves here unsatisfied!" but someone said "Let's let everyone settle in first." The woman with reddened skin said to Lillah, "No one wanted him at the last school so he can't contain himself."
Lillah felt all desire leave her, and felt terribly disappointed by it. She no longer wanted this man. Were there others here she would find attractive?
Lillah saw another familiar face. "Look, Melia, it's that teacher from Chrondus. Do you remember? Corma. She told us those great stories. Creepy stories."
Melia looked. "The ones about that killer? What he'd done? I guess she stopped here. She looks as if she has caught child, doesn't she?"
"What killer?" Thea asked. "What did she mean by that? Why didn't she tell me?"
"You were probably swimming, Thea. You would rather swim than talk. We have not seen it, but some will take the life of others without a thought."
Thea said, "Never."
Erica snorted. "You say that, Thea. Yet you swim with children without the slightest thought of their safety."
"That was not my fault, Erica. Nobody says it was my fault."
"You think so?"
"We are not talking about that, now," Lillah said. "That is in the past."
"You can't forget the past simply because you don't like what sits there, Lillah," Erica said.
Lillah said, "Do you remember the nightmares we had after she told us those stories? I'm sure that's her. Corma. She must have decided to stay. Her school is long gone."
Lillah approached the teacher. They had enjoyed her company.
"Corma, it's me. Lillah. From Ombu. You came through with your school. I thought you might even stay with us."
Corma was red-cheeked. She nodded. "I nearly did stay. I hated the walking. Awful. I won't be walking home, ever." She rested her hands on her belly. Lillah looked down.
"Have you caught child?"
Corma smiled. "Yes, I have. But they didn't tell me something beforehand. Well, two things. The Jasmine is so powerful that it's dangerous to women who have caught child. They don't tell you that. And they are going to send me away to have the baby. They have no knowledge of childbirth here. They have no Birthman!"
"You know, I remember women from here coming to us to see our Birthman. Is that why? I never really wondered."
"They either go to your Order or to Ailanthus," said Corma. "My husband, Hippocast, wants to go to Ailanthus, because he's heard about the nut fish they make there. He thinks with his belly, that man. I want to stay here. I don't want to walk any further."
Melia said, "It's very nice here. Very neat."
"They are very neat here. Very clean. Have you seen inside their homes? They spend a lot of the day cleaning. They don't achieve much else, but their houses are clean."
"I love the shells lined up along the paths. And the bowls decorated with shells."
Corma nodded. "It's like magic at night. It's one of the reasons I chose to stay."
"We heard about the paths," Lillah said.
"They are beautiful. It's taken time, but there they are." And she was right. That night the shells glowed gently, leading the way to homes and woodcaves. In one of the kitchens, the welcomeschool dinner cooked. Four huge pots containing a wonderful-smelling stew.
Borag came to Lillah. "Do you smell that? Can we watch it being cooked?"
"Let's go."
Hand in hand they walked to the kitchen, where the cooks welcomed them, happy to talk about their work.
"Slow cooked food is the best," the cook said. "There's no room for panic, it's done anytime between now and then. Nothing overcooks or spoils and you eat when you are ready to eat. The wind will not come this dayseason. We can work on our food without rushing for safety."
"And the smell," Lillah said. She breathed deeply. It was good, rich and meaty with an undertone of flowers. There was an undertone of flowers everywhere in this Order, even out on the water.
"We know that everything in food has a match," the cook said. "In the ground this is true, and also in the pot."
The welcoming feast that night began with a bathing session. One of the men said, "We know that some Orders have sea sponges wash up to their shore. Have you heard of this? They soak up water and you can carry them filled." The Order sighed as if this was a treasure they would love to have.
Next came a demonstration of the bonsai Trees by the young girls. The girls set their tiny Trees out to show the school.
"When are we going to eat?" Borag said. Melia handed her some dried fruit to nibble.
"Their bonsai are not very good," Thea whispered. Her fingers twitched.
"You leave them alone. No Leaf plucking. They have their Trees the way they want their Trees. I can't believe you're feeling lonely for a tiny Tree when you sit beneath our great one."
Thea said, "I can't believe you're not missing your bonsai. How do you forget it like that?"
"Don't frown, Thea. You won't be chosen if you frown."
"Everyone's chosen if they want to be, Lillah. I know that. You know that. Don't try to make me nervous."
Lillah sniffed deeply at the meat, trying to get beyond the jasmine to the food. Ensure it wasn't bad.
The local woman took Jasmine oil and seaweed fresh from the sea and ground them together to make a paste.
"This firms the skin, keeps it smooth," they said. The teachers sat while the stuff was plastered on their faces. Lillah could feel it stinging and imagined it drawing out the poisons of the walk.
Everybody laughed; Morace sat at the end, waiting for his mask. "Stop being a fool," Erica snapped at him.
They sat within a circle of the glowing shells. These ones were very small, lined up by the hundreds, a work of art.
"There was once a time when the Tree had no room at its roots. People lived like maggots, writhing over one another, crowded and hungry. They lost interest in the Tree, forgot to leave sacrifices or to worship it, and the Tree grew angry. The Tree's anger burns from within. You know the Tree feels fury when the Trunk is hot to the touch. When the Trunk is cool, the Tree is placated.
"The Tree was not placated at this time. The Trunk burnt hot, so hot that when a man touched it, he burned to the wrist. His head was so hot his eyeballs melted, and those who touched him burned, those who touched them burned. Their foreheads burned so hot they made the sea boil when they tried to cool in it. A monster filled the Tree and that was it.
"Spikes spread quickly and no one knew how to cure it. Soon there were bodies floating out to sea on rafts by the day. Sent to the sea monster to eat. The empty rafts drifted back to our shores, but they were changed. Somehow the sea monster ate the bodies and changed the rafts."
As the fire burned the cook stepped forward and back ritualistically, respecting the fire. Jasmine brewed tea was passed around. Lillah found it bitter and horrible, but she drank it. Jasmine rice to go with a fish stew, and that tasted good. Agara offered the bonsai Tree as apology for any small wrong they might do, any small misunderstanding. She received a jar of Jasmine
oil in return.
They ate very late. Most of the children had been given their bowls already and were fast asleep. There came a sudden great splashing from the sea, as if a huge wave had descended. The adults paused, waiting for it to subside.
Thea began to cry. "I don't want to hear that here. We hear it at our place and it frightens me."
"Does anyone know what it is?" Lillah asked.
They tutted her. "We do not wonder. Wondering is dangerous. Things just are as they are and do not be curious."
The man Lillah had thought would be her first lover was sitting at Thea's feet, massaging them. He didn't pursue Lillah. It seemed he liked an easy win; did not like to battle for it. Thea looked terrified. A quiet man with deep brown eyes the same colour as the Trunk attended to Lillah, bringing her more tea, which she refused, then some fermented tea that warmed her and made her smile at him.
"You feel warm and good because there is an element in the tea that affects the way your blood feels. Our bodies are affected by everything we take into them."
The men around him laughed. "We call him Brother Answer. He cannot simply accept. He needs to know why."
Thea plucked in the air at imaginary leaves.
"What is she doing?"
"Her bonsai. She misses it."
"My name is Bursen," he said. He smiled at Lillah in such a way, as if she was special. "Are you tired still? How many days did you walk?"
His questions calmed her, and they spoke about walking and the moon, how pleasant it was to walk by moonlight. How different the moonlight was from the sunlight muted through the trees. His voice was deep and soft and he looked at her intently as they spoke. He didn't try to touch her, as she had seen over-eager men do, didn't push her or pull her or try to force her to do anything. She felt comfortable and happy. He brought her food and only then, once she had eaten, and rested, and relaxed, did he gently take her hand and begin to stroke the fingertips. He stroked her wrist so gently she barely felt it, but it sent a flutter through her, a heartbeat.
Erica bent over her belly, taken with moon pains. Lillah felt sorry for her: this was not a good time for the bleed. One of the women took some jasmine cream to her and began to rub it into her stomach with gentle yet firm circular movements. Erica closed her eyes, too much in pain to protest.
After a while, she opened her eyes.
"It worked. The pain is far less now. Thank you." The woman led her away to make her comfortable somewhere and to make it clear the men would not select her in this condition.
Melia sat by a pale young man, taken by his silence, his grace. He did not respond to her, though, and she didn't have the experience to deal with such a thing.
She shifted closer to him, but two of the locals, tall, young women, came over and lifted her away.
She threw their hands off and stood, fists clenched. "Who do you think you are, to lift me away?"
"He is not for you. He is a newcomer. He is for us."
Agara stepped in. "The girls of Ombu treated my father like this when he arrived. No wonder he's so arrogant."
The local women came with a small bowl of liquid. "Leaves from the base. Squeezed and squeezed. A drop in your eyes will make them bright and desirable."
A drop in their own eyes and it was that way, colours more powerful, whites like the new moon.
When the feast was over, a delicious meal flavoured with red salt, Lillah's heart began to beat faster. She had seen this moment so many times at home, when the teachers and the young men disappeared to rooms or woodcaves, or amongst the roots of the Trees. She'd anticipated it but she was terrified. The teachers quickly gathered to speak their family Trees, ensure enough disconnection. They spoke of parentage and ancestry going back four generations. Bursen listened, eyes closed, nodding, when Lillah spoke.
They had seen it happen more than once in Ombu. If there was a shared grandparent, the union could not take place. A shared great-grandparent and the fathers would make the decision.
"It's okay," Bursen said. He took her hand and led her to the cave.
"I've heard there are some caves so deep you could enter the Tree," Lillah said.
"Not this cave. This cave is warm with the fire of the sun."
He led her inside. The smell of jasmine was overpowering, and Lillah knew she would never use the stuff again. The closeness of his cave took her breath. Small.
She said, "Your cave is very nice, but what about the ghosts? Can't they see us?"
"Do you believe in the ghosts? That they are in the Tree?"
"Doesn't everyone believe it in some way?"
"I don't believe it. Many of the others here do, but I don't believe it. Why would the ghosts stay in the Tree?"
"But what about the bones going missing? The bodies? What about the things we find that can only have come from within the Tree?"
"Those mysteries I can't explain."
"Some say the Tree is full of the dead. I've seen them myself. They don't know the difference between alive and dead. "
He closed her eyes with the palm of his hand, warm palm against her skin and for some reason he didn't smell of jasmine, he smelt more of salt, and a deep honey smell she couldn't understand. He drew her down to the floor and she opened her eyes.
His smell was so rich it made her dizzy.
"No one leaves here unsatisfied," he said. Somehow when he said it, it didn't disgust her.
They heard a scream. Thea. Lillah ran out to check on her. It was the agitated young man: he thought he had won her over and was trying to drag her into his cave.
"There's lovely pictures in here. Of the jasmine flowers, so nice, come inside, I did it myself," he shouted, his voice cracking.
Bursen walked over and handed him a clay pot.
"Use the jasmine oil," he said. "Rub it on your fingers and let her smell them. Run her fingers through her hair. We've been through this."
Thea quietened at his voice. The eager boy dipped his fingers into the pot and rubbed his hands together. He gently touched Thea's cheek and she turned to allow her face to be cupped in his hand.
"That's better," Bursen said. "Now, into the cave, you two. You'll be fine."
Lillah wondered suddenly if she should be acting as Thea was, nervous and shy. But she couldn't do it. She was too excited.
Bursen led her back into the cave. It was very dark in there now; no moonlight entered to shine.
"Touch and smell are the most important senses," he said. "And taste. We don't need to see each other. In fact without vision it changes. Becomes a different sensation."
She tried to keep her burn scar covered with her sleeve but he didn't seem to care.
His experience made it good for Lillah. He was kind and gentle, in no hurry. He showed her how to shift positions until she was both comfortable and stimulated. He taught her how to kiss without spit dribbling down her chin. He removed himself from her at the last minute and spilled his seed outside, amongst the roots of the Tree.
"That's how we do things here," he said.
Then he covered her with a blanket and let her sleep.
In the morning Lillah fumbled in her little pouch for the moss. She had always wondered what it tasted like. It was not for general consumption; women who took it when they didn't need to, who lied about having slept with a man the night before, were known as moss-munchers. Any kind of liar could be called a moss-muncher.
"Are you taking it?" Bursen said. She popped some in her mouth and began to chew.
"My choice," she said. This man was not ready for children; neither was she. "I've only just started on my journey."
"I don't spill inside you, though. You won't have a child."
"Still, this is my precaution to take."
She felt nauseous in the day, but that was good. The moss was working. Her lover took some to study; he was curious as to how it worked.
Lillah looked up at the canopy, which covered the sand most of the time, leaving dappled warm patches. She felt peaceful
, complete and capable.
"Why did you sleep so long? We didn't know what to do," she heard. It was Morace, squatting among the roots.
"You knew where I was. You could have come to find me."
"I did. I did come." Morace drew a snake in the dirt, refusing to catch her eye. Bursen came out, placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. Kissed her cheek, kissed her ear. She felt her breath, his breath, and she took his hand to lead him into the cave, but Thea came over, shuddering. "Why did I get stuck with him?" She plucked at her hair. "He's got a nasty sore on his heel, from stepping on a sharp shell or coral. I don't like the look of it."
Walking the Tree Page 10