"You, too!"
"And this is your school?"
"This is them."
"And which one is the young boy in your especial care?"
Lillah didn't speak. The teachers and students stared at Nyssa.
She said, "Sorry. Sorry. We were told…but you can find out that later. Are you going to join us tonight?"
Lillah noticed her friend had burn scars on the backs of her hands and wrists.
"Did you have an accident? Are you all right?"
"No, they burn deliberately here. They can read the scars, tell your future."
Lillah remembered dismissing this talk from Aquifolia.
"Do they really believe that?"
"They know you are coming. With him. Not your name, of course. They're not good on the details. But they saw running big and running small."
"We are not running," Lillah said.
"I'm not small, I'm almost fourteen," Morace said. Lillah pinched him to be quiet.
"You are. Of course you are. Big man," Nyssa said. "Come on, let's sit amongst the branches, Lillah. We can talk."
They held hands to help each other climb up. They talked of Nyssa's life, her husband, the child she had caught.
Then Nyssa said, "Lillah, we don't see everything. But we do see some. We don't know why you are in danger. But we see that you are."
"What should we do? Will they help us or hurt us? Should we walk on?" Lillah gave up any thought of pretence, although she didn't tell Nyssa of Rhizo's death and their fears for Morace's health.
"Don't walk on. They won't hurt you here, not tonight and not for the next while. Aquifolia's mother Maringa wants to see you. She leads us in many ways. She told me to bring you to her when you arrived."
"But will she help or hurt? Nyssa?"
"We have to trust her, Lillah."
She led them through the thick low branches of the Tree. They could hear some quiet voices, but not many.
"They're mostly on the outskirts, building a welcoming shelter for your school. They like to build. And because one of us dreamed there was someone special in your school they are taking extra care. Do you think that it is true?"
Lillah's heart gave a flip; she could feel it. Was it her? Lillah? Would she do something the whole Tree would know about?
"I don't know. We're all special, aren't we?"
"Maringa is sleeping, now. It's ash sleep she's having; sometimes we put fresh ash under our pillows and have a dream-telling in the morning. I think she is struggling to know what to do about your arrival. In the meantime, my Order will welcome you all."
The shelter was built, lined with the white fish doors. The Order welcomed them all tiredly and it was decided to have welcomefire the next day.
"Are you hungry?" Nyssa asked them. They had eaten, but it seemed like many hours earlier.
Nyssa gave them bags of dried fruit to eat. It was perfect; the sweetness, a touch of saltiness and it filled them without bloating. More of the fruit would be exchanged at welcomefire in the morning for the flute they had been given in Aspen.
They rested then, in the temporary building made for them.
"I like it here," Borag said. "It has a good smell about it. I wonder whether they use that fruit in cooking?"
They talked amongst themselves for a while, then slowly drifted off.
When Nyssa called them, Lillah rubbed at her eyes, feeling like she'd slept for blinks only.
"Maringa is awake. It's dark out. Come on." Lillah pushed Morace awake, and they followed Nyssa down to the water's edge, moonlight path for them to walk. A woman sat hunched over, way out on the seawalk, unmoving.
"Is she okay?" Lillah asked. She could hardly talk for the fear that filled her. She thought, "Run. Run. Take him home," but home was still so far away. And home may not be safe; home may still hurt them both.
"She's fine. Walk out to her."
Maringa turned as she approached. Aquifolia had warned Lillah of the disfigurement, but Lillah had imagined something like Aquifolia's own face; small patches of shiny skin on the face.
This woman had been burnt over and over again. There was no skin on her face that wasn't shiny and pink or scabby. Morace gasped in horror.
"Lillah," she said. "Step forward."
She took Lillah's arm and ran her fingers over the scar tissue. "You came from Ombu, didn't you?" Lillah nodded, not really wanted to admit this. "My daughter stopped with you. Aquifolia. She always promised to send us a gift. We haven't seen it yet." Lillah thought guiltily of the parcel she'd thrown away. She shouldn't have done that.
"She didn't send anything," Lillah said.
"Really?" Maringa closed her eyes and touched the scars on Lillah's arms. "You know my daughter then? Aquifolia? Were you kind to her?"
Lillah nodded. "She helped us prepare for school. She stopped in our Order because she felt comfort able there. She has made a lover with a very good man. I know him. He is a good man."
"And yet she didn't send a gift for me?"
Lillah felt her whole body flush with guilt. She wanted to continue with her lie, but looked into Maringa's eyes and knew she would not be able to do that.
"I have done a very bad thing with that," she said. "Your daughter sent you some sticks, but I did not want to carry them. I discarded them. I thought I would collect more sticks before we reached here and that you would not know the difference."
Maringa stared at her. Maringa's face was almost all scar tissue and she did not smile. "I would have known the difference. Better to not receive the sticks at all than to receive a false message."
Lillah shivered. She had never felt so cold. So unprotected.
The woman lifted Lillah's arm and inspected it closely, sometimes touching her nose to the skin. "My daughter has given me something to read. You see now, she knew what she was doing. Fire is cleansing. She must care very deeply for you. I hope she does not know how little you care for her."
"I was always kind to her," Lillah said.
"Yes," she said. "Yes. I see you try to be kind. And you have kept this boy safe. But now is his truest danger."
"I don't think so," Lillah said. "We are almost at the Order of his mother. They will care for him there."
The woman stroked her arm again with a tenderness that made Lillah anxious.
"There is only one direction you can take. They are coming for him, and for you, too. You must enter the Tree."
Lillah began to cry. She had come to this woman for help, and while she had not really expected to be saved, she had hoped for a hint at what to do.
Not insanity. Not an impossibility.
"You must enter through the ghost cave, and make your way to the centre of the Tree. I can't tell you more; what is inside sits beyond my imagination. It is not evil, though. They wish you no ill."
"The ghosts? I can't go to the ghosts. You are a terrible woman. You are terrible and cruel. We came to you for help."
"Are they ghosts?" Maringa ran her lips along Lillah's scar tissue. "I do not believe they are. I believe they are people living inside, not ghosts."
"Of course they are ghosts. I've seen them. We've all seen them. They mean us no well. They hate us. They want to destroy us. Everybody knows this. Everybody."
"Lillah, if you don't risk entering the Tree you will die, and Morace will die, and they will probably kill your entire school as well for hiding you. They will kill me and all of my family. They will slice you open with far more violence than any ghost will, and they will find illness inside you, and they will kill anyone you have contacted. All your lovers, all your family. You will cause the deaths of many."
"But they will do that anyway."
"They will not do it without the proof. They will not do it without looking inside Morace for Spikes."
Lillah turned away. She ran down to the water, wanting to wash herself clean, wash away the past and all she knew.
"Do you think she's right, Lillah?" Morace said. His voice was quiet. Mature. There was
nothing of the child in him now.
"No, I don't. Your people will welcome you and protect you. You'll see. She is an old woman with a scarred face and we need not listen to her."
The time spent at Sargassum went quickly. The children soon grew used to the scarred skin of the people, and Lillah caught Zygo with one of the younger women, carefully preparing to scar his arm.
"Do you think all women would like to see that?" she said, stopping him.
"All the good women would," he said, grinning at her.
Nyssa and Lillah spent all their time together. Lillah found lovers and enjoyed being with them, although their rough, scarred skin took some getting used to. Nyssa tried to convince her to stay and she knew, again, that once she took Morace home, she could choose to return to Sargassum and make her life there. She would be happy with Nyssa as a companion; the men would not matter so much then.
Morace spent too much time with Maringa. Lillah avoided the woman; she had stories to tell Lillah did not want to hear.
In her mapping, Lillah wrote: Here the Tree grows pale and luminous and there are shells so white they make your eyes hurt. Here they see too much and know the same.
Sargassum — GULFWEED — Chrondus
Lillah worried, as they neared Gulfweed, that Rhizo's people would be like Rhizo had been. Selfcentred, self-serving. She worried that Maringa had been right, that they would hurt Morace.
"What do you think they'll be like, Morace? Will they know you?"
"Will they know you are my sister?"
"We will see, I guess. Do you think Rhizo always had this in mind? For us to use our blood connection when we need it most?"
"I don't know what she had in her mind. I think she just wanted to keep me close. Maringa says–"
"Let's not worry about what Maringa says until we arrive, Morace."
"We should be prepared."
"I am prepared," Lillah said, although she was not.
• • •
As they left the market very early in the morning, Morace could not contain his leaping. He was excited to be seeing his family.
"Your smoothstone? Do you have that?"
"Of course I have it. I will show my family and they will know me through it."
These were his people; he would be safe there. His grandmother, his uncles, all there to take the burden of responsibility from Lillah. She knew she would miss Morace if he stayed with his family but the thought of that burden lifting made her very happy.
The air seemed clear and the light golden, as if all was right with the world and there was nothing to worry about.
Lillah tried not to show her nervousness to the others, but she was terrified of how she would handle things at Gulfweed. She had to get it right, to win them over and make them believe her.
Outwardly she was buoyant, as they were whenever they approached a family Order. But here they would ask more questions, and Lillah would have to decide if she trusted them with the truth, with Morace's life.
An old woman followed them, a fair way in the distance, for their journey to Gulfweed.
"I think it's Maringa," Morace said.
"No, she wouldn't be leaving that place. Why would she leave it? They listen to her there. If she walked anywhere else she would be outcast."
There was no one to greet them. Morace looked at the sand, blinking, trying to hide tears.
"Aspen told us they rarely greet the schools," Lillah said. "They are too pleased with themselves and their sun.
"Maybe they don't know it's you," Lillah said, squeezing him. He winced, his flesh sensitive to the touch.
They entered the central area to find the people sat on a massive hollowed out piece of wood with a whale's tooth protruding from the bow.
Lillah called, "Please excuse us. We are a school set off from Ombu."
Three people stood up and stepped out of the massive canoe.
"Greetings, of course. Welcome. Please share our meal."
Tamarica whispered to Lillah, "They won't look us in the eye."
Morace clutched Lillah's hand. "Don't tell them who I am. I don't like them."
"Morace! Don't be foolish. You haven't spoken to them."
"They don't want us here. They don't."
"We are busy preparing for the drying season," the man said. "And we are not so good with strangers."
Lillah wondered if it was simply arrogance that made them that way.
Ster said, "What's going on? Do you want us to keep moving?"
"We are hospitable. It is strangers we are difficult with."
He looked the teachers in the eye.
"We are not all strangers," Lillah said.
"Please, Lillah," Morace begged. "Please."
Zygo whispered to her, "Don't tell them, Lillah. Not yet. Wait till we know them."
Ster said, "We are all of the Tree."
The brightness of the place was almost painful and very warm. The Tree looked odd from below, and the huge piece, long since collapsed, lay on the sand. They'd carved seats into it, and it was inside this huge piece of wood that sixty of them sat. Lillah could see old sap there, traces of it in the Bark, and she wondered if sitting here gave them strength, long life.
"When did this fall?"
"Three generations ago. There was a thundering that went on for a day, and then a great tearing. Many people left, camping along the beach. But others stayed, thinking this was a message from the Tree." He lowered his voice. "Eight were killed when it fell. They lie beneath this dugout. We have never recovered them. They were sacrificed to the Tree. They gave us the great future of the sun and the worship of those around us. Many wish to stay because of the sun." Rhizo had never mentioned this.
The Order nodded, muttered, went back to their food. Someone handed Tamarica a pot with a bubbling stew in it and some beautifully carved wooden plates. The people didn't want welcomefire. "Gifts for all," they said. Rubica gave the dried fruits they had received in Sargassum to the children.
"These plates are lovely," Tamarica said.
"We are given gifts often."
They were not invited into the canoe, so they settled by the water's edge, enjoying the sun.
Morace took Ster's hand and kissed it. "Thank you, for not telling them," he said. He said the same to Zygo, without kissing him.
Lillah snapped her head around "For what? These are your people. You should tell them so."
Ster said, "They are acting strangely. We should understand them before we tell them anything."
"Maybe they're acting strangely because they think we're keeping something from them."
Morace breathed deeply, sucking in air noisily.
Ster put her arm around him. "I don't think they should know he's sick."
"He's not sick."
"Of course he is, Lillah. You've hidden it well, looked after him beautifully. But we are not fools. You have treated him differently all along because he is your half-brother and Spikes hangs over him like a cloud."
They ate in silence.
One of the men walked toward them carrying a wooden pitcher and mugs. He smiled at them as he poured out drinks. No one spoke.
"You're a quiet group," he said. "None of you speak."
"We speak. Our mouths are full."
The man placed the jug down in the damp sand. "Which of you is Morace, son of Rhizo our sister?" He stared into the faces of the boys. "Well?" He pointed to Morace. "You? You have her features."
The head father said, "We are sad to hear the news of Rhizo and her death. Her death so far way from us. We wish there was a different circumstance for your visit."
Morace cried quietly. One of the residents comforted him, but Lillah realised the person was squeezing him, seeking the lumps that would indicate he was Spikes-ridden.
"He's fine. He is very healthy," Lillah said, pulling him away. Morace wept more loudly now, all the fear and loss shaking his body.
He's only thirteen, Lillah thought. I expect him to act like a man, but
he's only thirteen.
Morace was used to hiding his coughs with noises; he clapped his hands a lot. He made jokes. Made his coughs seem like laughs.
A messenger came to them. He wore flowers around his neck and the words he formed sounded difficult in his mouth, as if he did not un derstand them. He said he had news from Ombu.
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