by Nadia Aguiar
The sun was setting when they started to see the dust. It began finely, but within a short distance it coated everything in sight. The disparate colours and textures of leaves and bark were reduced to a uniform ashen patina. Trees toiled along the roadside like a phantom procession. Branches slumped under the weight. Flowers had fallen off and been lobbed along the road by breezes, leaving swirling scripts in the thick grit. The children passed carts whose passengers swayed like ghosts, faces and hair eerily pale. All were heading away from Santori.
The children hailed a couple driving one of the departing carts.
‘What’s going on?’ they asked. ‘What happened?’
Seeing their arm sashes, the couple stopped.
‘A massive whorl opened over Santori this morning, and a dust storm poured out of it all day,’ said the man. ‘It was so thick it blotted out the sun.’
‘It looked like the middle of the night by lunchtime,’ said the woman. ‘You couldn’t even see your hand in front of your face.’
‘It’s stopped falling now, but the town is covered in it,’ said the man. ‘We spent the day inside waiting for it to pass. Now we’re going where there’s clear air.’
The children thanked the couple and pressed on. They vibrated with a new, nervous anticipation – this was the kind of thing Elder had warned would happen.
The atmosphere grew thicker as they neared Santori. Seagrape tilted forward on Penny’s shoulder and buried her head in the hollow of Penny’s neck. Penny brushed dust off the bird’s folded wings and bowed her own head to keep the dirt from falling into her eyes. She only looked up when she felt Tabba grasp her elbow.
The trees had ended, exposing sloping fields that encircled a town in the middle distance. Penny and Jebby stopped and followed Tabba’s gaze up into the sky.
‘Is that a whorl …?’ whispered Penny when she could finally speak.
The whorl was twenty times the size of any they had seen before, and it hung high in the sky directly above Santori. This was no humbly shimmering patch. It was dark and angry, a savage rend in the sky. A light snow of dust sifted from it, blowing this way and that on the muddled breeze. Dust blanketed the town below, filling its streets, mounding on its rooftops. Some roofs had buckled beneath its weight, leaving gaps like missing teeth. The whorl was calm now, but the evidence of its power was all around, and it gave the sense that it might only be resting, that at any time it could once again spring into action.
In an instant, the children knew that everything was different.
The past bad Bloom no longer seemed like a mere story. It was a dormant state that had been in danger of waking to potent and terrible life all along.
They continued on silently. In Santori they found that lamps had been lit early, their palm-oil wicks smoking softly. People were sweeping dust from doorways into drifts. There were fires in the gardens and the scent of food cooking, but there were no festivities on the scale of those in Tontap and Jaipa. There was an unnatural hush – the unsettling absence of a particular element of sound – and it took Penny a while to realize that it was because people’s footsteps were muffled by the thick cushion of sediment on the streets. Coughing could be heard everywhere, muted beneath the damp cloths people held over their mouths. Penny felt like she was in a dream, walking through a blast zone, as they made their way towards the town square.
The children found the Council of Elders on a platform in a corner. One of the councilmen rose and came to meet them. Penny gave him the beetle. Almost at once, the dust in the air settled on it, dulling its lacquer. The councilman rubbed it clear with his thumb, and it shone like a light through fog as he examined it. He nodded.
‘Accepted,’ he said. ‘It’s a Zamzee. Congratulations, you’ll be one of five teams advancing to the final trial tomorrow.’ He took the children’s old sashes and tied new ones – these ones a deep, sapphire blue – to their arms. ‘In a little while, go to the red garden gate on the third street off the square – the teams will be meeting there to discuss the next trial.’
The children stumbled across the square in a daze. They were reeling: just a few hours ago all had seemed lost, and now here they were, hearing that they were still in the competition after all, and yet everything had changed. The light-hearted venture they had been on was over.
Santori had become a strange, dark netherworld. Silhouettes of people bobbed unpredictably here and there, features reduced to forms. The roiling dust made the world feel like it was spinning. A few fresh gusts through the whorl shook down more powder. Penny put her goggles on and was able to take in the surreal panorama without her eyes watering.
For the first time, it was impossible for her to ignore the grave danger that Kana was in. She had been so focused on getting the Bloom for Granny Pearl that she had spared little thought for Elder’s dire warnings or for the frightening stories about the last bad Bloom. But now, as she witnessed the destruction around her, she found herself flooded with emotion about Kana itself. Tamarind had been such a significant part of her and her family’s lives, and she felt anew how deeply – how profoundly – she loved the place. Her resolve strengthened – she must get the Bloom, not only for Granny Pearl but for Kana, too.
Jebby returned from a stall with food, and the children found a place to sit down to eat. The food was gritty with dust and sand that crunched in Penny’s teeth.
Dust lay on everything, windowsills, the backs of stray dogs, children. It dimmed the glowing bulbs strung between the streets. People swept it up, stood on ladders to wipe it from the bulbs and lanterns, sprinkled water on the streets to tamp it down. Sneezes and coughs punctuated the air. Seagrape faded into a pale ghost of herself on Penny’s shoulder, every now and then ruffling her feathers to shake loose a dry snow of grains. A pallor settled over the children’s new sapphire-blue sashes.
The dust was all anyone could talk about. People stood in clusters in the square, whispering, reddened eyes looking up at the whorl. Though no one had actually seen the mandrill, his presence hung heavy over the night. People glanced over their shoulders half expecting that at any moment he might materialize behind them.
Still, the natural resurgence that occurs in the aftermath of any disaster was happening, and there were efforts underway to have the festival go on. People who had cowered indoors all day emerged to shovel dust off their rooftops before its weight made them collapse. Tainted barrels of water were dumped into gutters, rinsing small sections of the streets clean. Travellers who had steered clear of the town all day began to trickle in and wander around, though many of them soon left again for the clean air of the surrounding hills. Musicians set up on corners, stopping now and then to wipe instruments clean and spit grit out of their mouths.
The children saw other Bloom Players. Most had failed to even track down a single Zamzee; others had found beetles but not managed to be among the first five teams to reach Santori. No one was bragging this time around. Almost anyone who had come into contact with a live Zamzee had been injured. They limped into Santori, tattered and weary, limbs ballooned from Zamzee stings, and hobbled around on crutches or in slings, arms or legs numb and paralysed until the toxin wore off in a day or two. Penny could hardly believe it – some tiny beetles had crushed these big, strong boys. They heard about one Player who had to be rushed, lips foaming, to Santori for the serum. Animals had returned lame, too.
They learned that the other victorious teams were Grasshopper Boy, the Lamlo Diver, the Dorado brothers and Kal. Kal was nowhere to be found, but among the others only Grasshopper Boy had emerged unscathed. He was as fresh and springy, lean and rangy and burnished by the sun, as the first morning they set out. Early in the day he had tracked down a retired jeweller and secured a long-dead scarab that had been used in a bracelet, a move considered ingenious.
The Dorado brothers had vigorously dug down thirty feet and, in a stroke of fortune, unearthed a single scarab beetle. Each of them had been stung and the younger brother had one arm in a slin
g, but they were so happy to still be in the competition that they didn’t care.
The Lamlo Diver had heard that scarabs often nested deep in the roots of teuchalia trees, so he had harnessed his buffalo to one, uprooted the tree halfway and scrabbled around in the dirt on his hands and knees after a beetle, then galloped all the way back to Santori with it.
Word spread about the children’s trick with the bowerbird, which was widely admired.
The children discovered that once again Kal was the first Player back, arriving in Santori with a Zamzee long before anyone else. The lumphur was not with him; it was rumoured to have been lost in a whorl. Kal’s fame and the feeling of fear and awe he inspired had been amplified to mythic proportions as stories about how he had summoned the mandrill passed from town to town. Penny was furious that he was so famous, so fearfully admired. He didn’t deserve it. What he deserved was to be exposed as the cheater and saboteur that he was – to be kicked out of the competition, even. Fresh anger surged through her. Jaw clenched, she squinted hard, searching through the thick atmosphere until she spied him.
He was standing in a corner of the square, back to a wall, scanning the crowd. Though shrouded in haze, it was unmistakably him. Penny remembered the grinding sound of the bicycle tearing apart. She thought of Granny Pearl coming so close to never getting the Bloom. Rage flooded her. She wanted to know how he was doing everything he was doing. She wanted to punish him for cheating. Without a word to Tabba or Jebby, she sprinted towards him.
She was the fastest moving thing in the square, and Kal caught sight of her.
He bolted.
Within seconds Penny lost him in the crowd.
She craned her neck to see round the people in front of her and spotted him heading off the square into the tangle of narrow streets. She chased him and this time she kept him in sight. The further they went from the square, the thinner the crowd, and the easier it was to close the distance between them. The air was heavy with dust and she was coughing when up ahead he pivoted suddenly and disappeared round a corner.
Penny pulled up short in the spot where Kal had turned and found herself at the top of a long, narrow lane. It was empty. Thinking she had stopped at the wrong street, she was about to head to the next one, when she noticed footprints in the thick dust.
The alley was unlit, the windows of the homes that bordered it dark. Dust furred the musty palm frond eaves. No one had swept the lane since the storm and a spongy mat of dust lay thickly on the stones, revealing a single trail of footprints down the middle that stopped at a stack of wooden crates.
Penny smiled. Kal was trapped. She began to walk towards the crates. The fact that he was hiding emboldened her, and she clenched and unclenched her fists as she walked.
‘I know you’re here!’ she called. ‘You destroyed our bike. We know it was you!’
‘Stop!’ Kal called, but Penny kept going deeper. The alley muffled the sounds of the festival back in the square. It was like listening to the sea in a shell. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she could make out more details – an abandoned nest in the eaves, the chipped wooden boards of the crates.
‘How did you get a Molmer egg and reach Jaipa so much faster than anyone else?’ she demanded. ‘And how did you get back here so quickly today? What did you do the day I came over the Blue Line? How are you opening whorls? How are you doing all these things?’
Just before she reached the crates, Kal stepped out and faced Penny. He was sweating and he was cradling his right arm, which was bandaged – probably from a Zamzee sting, Penny presumed. He couldn’t escape. He’d have to answer her now. There was a squawk in the alley behind her, and then she heard flapping wings. Seagrape had caught up to her.
‘Don’t come any closer,’ called Kal, but he edged backwards away from Penny. ‘I’m warning you!’
Penny felt a faint current from Seagrape’s wings as the parrot flew past her, heading down the dark tunnel of the alley towards Kal. The breeze stirred the grit on the eaves, knocking loose small silent drifts.
‘I’m serious!’ Kal shouted desperately. ‘Stop!’
Just before Seagrape reached him, Kal closed his eyes, as if cringing for a blow, and threw up one arm. A ripple fanned through the air. Instinctively Penny turned away to shield herself. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that a whorl had opened in mid-air between her and Kal. Seagrape could not veer off in time, and Penny watched her fly into it and vanish.
‘Seagrape!’ she shouted.
The whorl quivered darkly. Penny became aware of a strange, sulphurous odour, of vegetable decay, the scent of deep, abiding rot. Steam began to fill the alley. Moisture gathered on the walls, dirty rivulets trickled down to the street, tracing snaking lines through the dust.
Without warning, the whorl snapped shut and disappeared.
‘Seagrape!’ Penny screamed.
There was no response, no raspy squawk, no flap of wings. The steam was gone. The air was a vacuum. Penny felt like she had been punched in the stomach.
‘What have you done to her?’ she cried frantically. ‘Where is she?’
Kal looked all around the alley, his chest rising and falling hard.
‘Bring her back!’ Penny repeated. ‘BRING HER BACK!’
‘I didn’t want to hurt her,’ Kal said, his voice trembling.
‘Then bring her back!’ Penny shouted, a choke in her voice.
‘I CAN’T!’ Then he turned and fled down the alley, leaving Penny alone.
She dashed to the crates and turned them over. They were all empty. She ran up and down the length of the alley, rattling the closed shutters, peering up into the eaves. Seagrape wasn’t there. Penny felt powerless, in a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. She had no idea what to do next.
‘Seagrape!’ she called pathetically.
Beneath where the whorl had been, she saw a single green tail feather on the ground. She crouched and picked it up, cradling it in her hands. The dust had got into her lungs and she started coughing and couldn’t stop.
She heard running footsteps at the top of the alley.
‘What happened?’ asked Tabba, stopping, out of breath, beside Penny.
‘Seagrape’s gone,’ Penny said hoarsely. ‘Kal opened a whorl, and now she’s gone. He just lifted his arm, like this –’ She raised her arm and the others recoiled, as if perhaps merely witnessing Kal’s casual mastery had given Penny powers, too.
Jebby ran down the alley, checking all the same places where Penny had just looked.
‘It was my fault,’ Penny whispered, anguished. ‘If –’
It didn’t matter how righteous Penny’s anger had been. Kal’s mysterious power was real. She had provoked him, and now her impulsiveness had been punished. She had never felt more awful about anything in her life. She began to cry.
Tabba knelt beside her helplessly. Jebby awkwardly patted her shoulder.
‘Stop,’ said Tabba at last, kindly but firmly. ‘We know that the mandrill comes in and out of the whorls – that means Seagrape is all right; she’s just somewhere else right now.’
‘Sitting here isn’t going to help her,’ said Jebby. ‘We have to meet with the Council and the other teams now. You need to put everything out of your mind except the third trial, OK? Whorls are opening up all the time. Think about how many we saw today. Seagrape … maybe she’ll find a way back.’
Penny let their calm voices draw her back until she felt like she was once again in the world. Clasping the feather tightly in one hand, she let Jebby help her to her feet, and she followed her friends out of the alley.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Meeting in the Garden ✵ The Mandrill’s Maze ✵ A Strange Camaraderie ✵ Please Find Me ✵ ‘The furthest we’ve ever been’
The final trial would not be announced, as the previous two had, to the whole crowd. Instead, the five remaining teams gathered in a private garden behind a cane fence too high to peer over, where the Council of Elders would address them. Dust hu
ng like smoke in the air. The plants and flowers lay stiffly beneath a pale frost of it. The Lamlo Diver, the Dorado brothers and Grasshopper Boy were already there with the Council when Penny, Tabba and Jebby arrived. Kal came in right after them. The other Players shuffled aside to make room for him, but Penny didn’t budge.
She glared at him across the circle. If they had been adversaries before, they were enemies now. The air trembled between them. Jebby nudged Penny and nodded to the Council. Penny took a deep breath and turned her attention to Elder. Everyone drew in close. The night was hot and airless and sweat trickled down Penny’s forehead. The dark canker of the whorl hung overhead. The silt drifting finely down from it caught the moonlight – against the dark night sky it looked like a pale, ghostly curtain adrift on a breeze.
‘After tonight, maybe you understand a little better what’s at stake for Kana,’ said Elder. ‘The whorls will continue to grow more powerful the closer we get to the Bloom. Today it was dust. Tomorrow it could be fire, floods, plagues of insects – any size and manner of chaos you can imagine.’
Dust had turned Elder’s beard silver. Small, ashy heaps gathered on his shoulders as he spoke and slid down in miniature avalanches.
‘So what you are doing is terribly important,’ he continued. ‘This final trial will be the greatest challenge yet and will determine which one among you will become the Bloom Catcher.’
Dust fell, soundless, over the garden. With each breath, Penny felt its grit crunch between her teeth, tasted its sharp metallic flavour on her tongue. Even breathing had become more effortful, more deliberate and dangerous. The Lamlo Diver coughed into a cloth. The younger Dorado brother’s eyes were so irritated that they had almost swollen shut.
‘Early in the morning, you’ll leave here and head to the Gorgonne,’ said Elder. ‘Your task is to be the first to find a shell and reach Palmos with it. The winner will be the Bloom Catcher and will use the shell to capture the Bloom in the Great Wave.’