Limbo Lodge (20 page)

“Yes, Gerente.”

The second man’s footsteps died away up the path, and a small red glow near the mouth of the cave suggested that Manoel had lit a cigar. The warm scent of tobacco floated back along the passage, and Dido could feel Herodsfoot make a sharp movement, which was instantly and firmly suppressed by Tylo. She herself was in a state of shock. Something dreadful,
horrible
, had happened, under cover of the dark, recorded by nothing more than a couple of brief cries: a man had been killed, thrown over the cliff, simply because he would not agree to light a fire which might destroy the whole forest.

I always reckoned that Manoel was a wrong ’un, Dido thought. I wonder if his brother’s as bad? If so it’s a poor look-out for Doc Tally, even if she gets to Limbo Lodge; shame these poor Forest Folk have such a scaly pair ruling the roost round here. If it weren’t for them – and the Angrians – Aratu wouldn’t be a bad place to live . . .

More footsteps. The second voice announced respectfully: “Here is Capitan Ereira, Gerente.”

“Good. You may leave us now.”

When the steps had gone again, Manoel said: “Mateo. Is there any news of your sister?”

“No, Gerente.”

“Where do you think she has gone?”

“I think she may have been making for the Cliff of Death. I fear she might have got there before the guard was set on the bridge.”

“That was a wretched piece of bungling stupidity!” said Manoel angrily. “The bridge ought to have been guarded all along – certainly as soon as the news came that she was gone from your parents’ home—”

“I know, I know, Gerente,” said Mateo’s voice apologetically. “But I myself did not receive the information until half an hour ago—”

“Is there any further news of the party with the English lord and Irmala?”

“Some of them spent the night with the madman, Ruiz. But not Irmala. She was with a woman of the forest.”

“Where are they now?”

“They were last spotted going in the direction of Manati beach.”

“In that case they may not be far from here now. Order your guards to be extra vigilant.”

“Yes, Gerente. I have already done so.”

“That woman is a great danger to us.”

“Which, sir? Irmala – or my sister?”

“Both, both! If Irmala gets to Limbo – or if your sister comes into contact with any of the Forest People – if only they would stay in one place, instead of shifting about as they keep doing – it is so devilish difficult even to judge how many there are—”

“A good forest blaze would wipe out most of them, sir—”

“Yes, yes, no doubt! But the ones who escaped would be exceedingly ill-disposed.”

“They might not guess who began the fire.”

“Oh, they would. They would! There is no deceiving them in such matters. And they have such unexpected powers—”

“What is your plan regarding the d – regarding Irmala?”

There was a long pause. Then Manoel said: “
If
she is to remain alive—” he hesitated – “
if
she is to live, she must marry. She is dangerously wilful and wayward. Her marriage is essential. She escaped from the House of Correction – she must have had help to do that. From whom? We don’t know. She has spent nights in the forest with the Dilendi people. Already it seems they trust her. She is a capable doctor – she was able to heal that young sailor’s head injury. News of that has spread across the island. It seems she already has standing as a Kanikke and a witch.”

“We
need
a doctor – there has not been one on the island since O Medico died.”

“Yes, but we cannot allow her to go running around loose. She would take the part of the Forest People against the Angrians. She would impede all our plans. Would
you
marry her, Mateo?” Manoel suddenly asked.

“
I
?” There was another long pause. “I – I have no mind to marry, Gerente. And – and I do not think that would work – not from what I hear of her.”

“I suppose
I
could marry her,” Manoel said thoughtfully.

“You? But you are her uncle!”

“And who is to know that?”

“Does she know it?”

“I am not certain. She knows some of her history – that she came from here. It is the greatest misfortune that she should have survived,” Manoel said gloomily. “When I heard of the child being picked up by the Dutch freighter, I could hardly believe that ill-luck had targeted me yet again.”

“You and I, Gerente, are both sons of the Night-Woman. Do you remember what that crazy witch said when you had her put in the stocks for not wearing a headdress – she said that women of our families would bring us great trouble.”

“I had forgotten,” Manoel said slowly. “Yes, I had forgotten that. This island is
plagued by
women! Without them, we should do better. If my brother had never married – if that child had never been born – if your sister Luisa had never met that hot-headed young poet Kaubre—”

“What about the Englishman? Do you think that he might marry Irmala?”

“What’s-his-name? – Herodsfoot? Oh no. He is of no account,” Manoel said. “He travels about collecting games and butterflies – for some trifling purpose. Irmala would never marry him, I am certain of that. He is a poor creature – a no-account fellow. No, I think that Irmala had better die. The island must do without a doctor. Order your men to maintain an active search for her, and, as soon as she is found, she had better follow Zmora over the cliff.”

“What about the rest of the party – Herodsfoot and the English girl, and the sailor who suffered the head injury? There is also the captain of the ship.”

“Too many to die by snake-bite,” Manoel said thoughtfully. “We do need that fire. Somehow it must be contrived. I feel sure the old fool was wrong. The Dilendi are superstitious about fires. But come, it grows late. We should go back to camp. What was that noise?”

“What noise, Gerente?”

“For a moment – just then – I thought I caught the sound of a baby crying—”

“Heaven forbid!” said Mateo, shivering.

The two men left the cave and walked away up the cliff path.

T
HERE WAS A HORRIFIED SILENCE FOR A NUMBER
of minutes after Manoel and Mateo had left the cave.

Then Tylo whispered: “Us go more back far in . . .”

They did so. When they had gone what Tylo considered a safe distance along the windings of the passage, he blew on a piece of fire-fungus, which gave off a glow not much brighter than that of the glow-worms, but was sufficient to show them each other’s shocked faces.

“That Manoel!” breathed Dido. “That Manoel is a real hellion. Fancy
murdering
that poor old fellow, that Zmora, just because he wouldn’t set a fire for them—”

“Zmora,” said Tylo mournfully. “Zmora my father’s cousin’s aunt’s tree-uncle. Very wise man. Very tree-old.”

Herodsfoot came out of his long silence. He said, “Am I right in thinking they killed that man? I was never so shocked – never so scandalised! It is the most monstrous thing! If there were a British Resident in this island, I would record the strongest possible protest – I would demand proper retribution—”

“But there ain’t a British whatshisname,” Dido pointed out. “So any retribution we gotta do ourselves – though I don’t quite see how—”

“What is that wretched man up to?” demanded Herodsfoot. “What is his aim?”

“Why do they want somebody to marry Doc Tally?” Dido wanted to know.

“Is that who they mean when they say Irmala – why do they call her that?”

“Forest name for her,” explained Tylo. “When she born, nurse-woman in King’s house Asgard – her ma die when she born, but nurse Kanikke called her Irmala.”

“How do you know that?”

“Aunt Tala’aa tell me.”

“Aunt Tala’aa seems to know everything – What a lot of names Tally’s got – Jane – Talisman – Irmala—”

Herodsfoot heaved a great sigh.

Poor Frankie, Dido thought. She did not say it aloud. It was a bit hard on him though, she thought, hearing that scaly Manoel say all those nasty things about him – that he was a no-account, a trifling fellow, a poor thing. And it ain’t true, besides. Frankie is a bit slow, and a mite careless with his glasses, but he’s as decent a fellow as ever walked down the pike . . .

“What is Manoel up to?” Herodsfoot asked again.

“He want to push out his brother Sovran John. He got Town Guard camped up by bridge, ready attack Limbo Lodge.”

“His own brother? – Now I remember,” muttered Herodsfoot, mostly to himself. “In Bad Szomberg, I remember there was some scandal attached to Manoel Roy – after cheating at cards he had waylaid a person who threatened to expose him and stabbed the man – but nothing was proved—”

“Why doesn’t his brother
stop
him? If he has his own guards over there in the palace?”

Tylo pondered: “Sovran John maybe not know. And we Forest Folk not like fight,” he presently offered.

“But John King ain’t a Forest Person. He came from Norfolk,” Dido said.

“But he old now, he learn Forest notions.”

“That’s true; and he had them from his wife, too, didn’t he? But do you reckon he really doesn’t know what Manoel is up to?”

“Golly-maybe,” said Tylo doubtfully. “Or maybe he hope, still, whispering leaves, sand-voices, knot in grass blow across Manoel path, trip him—”

He had lost Dido. She did not understand these references.

“What we gotta do, Tylo?” she said. “We can’t go and call on John King if his brother Manoel is camped in front of the bridge with his Guards. There’s no other way across the gorge. We’re in a bit of a fix. And, from what Manoel said to that other cove, he plans to do us all in. Who
was
the other guy, the one Manoel called Mateo? Is he kin to those folk where we stayed?”

“He that gal’s brother.”

“But he said his sister had gone off to the Cliff of Death—”

“Hush!” whispered Tylo. “Listen!”

Far back in the cave where they now were, the silence was very complete: the massive rock above and around them seemed to banish all noise, save an occasional faint drip of water.

No, not quite all noise. Tiny, in the distance, far, far away, came the smallest possible cry – not more than the thinnest spider-web of sound.

“Where’s it coming from?” breathed Dido.

“Maybe more frontways? In side cave? You stay here, Shaki-Dido,” said Tylo softly. “Stay here with Milord Oklosh. I go look.”

“S’pose you don’t come back?”

“I come, I come. You see. If I no come, you go back to horses, go back to my Sisingana.”

“Could I ever find the way?”

“I think you find it, Shaki-Dido. You got good baraat,” Tylo told her encouragingly. Dido did not know exactly what baraat was – common-sense, maybe – but his tone cheered her.

Tylo broke off a morsel of fire-fungus, passed it to her, and slipped off along the passage.

“Where’s the boy gone?” asked Herodsfoot after a while.

“There was a noise – sounded like a baby crying.”

“A
baby
? In a place like this? Who in the world . . .? Oh, dear me,” sighed Herodsfoot. “I feel so useless. If only . . . if only Talisman were here . . . How happy we should be to see her.”

You never said a truer word, Frankie, thought Dido.

Then she thought she caught the sound of soft pattering footsteps. In a moment she was sure of it. Tylo was returning.

He came rather slowly. Dido was puzzled, momentarily, as he seemed to have balanced the fire-fungus on his head, on a flat flake of stone, while he carried a bundle in his arms. It was too dark to see what he held until he came up to Dido and passed her the bundle, which felt like an outsize grass birdsnest with something warm and solid in the middle. As Tylo handed the bundle to Dido, it let out a faint chirrup and waved a fist.

“Save us! A baby!”

“Paper tell who,” said Tylo.

Having handed Dido the baby, he removed the fire-fungus from his head and pulled a folded paper from his waistband. Holding the fungus beside the paper, he raised it near enough to Dido’s face so that she was able to read the few lines written on it.

“I have gone to jump off the Cliff of Death and rejoin my beloved Kaubre who was killed by my brother and father. I will not take my baby, for if the tree-fathers of Aratu wish her to live, she will be found and cared for. Whoever finds this paper, please, if she is still living, take my baby to a tree-mother. Luisa Ereira.”

What a shame, thought Dido. Doc Talisman goes to all the trouble of keeping that gal from dying, helping her baby be born, and then she has to go and jump off the Cliff of Death.

Now
what’s to be done?

“Where’s the nearest tree-mother?” she murmured to Tylo.

He seemed a bit nonplussed. “Best we go down to horse-cave.”

“Yeah, that would be farther away from those coves and their camp. In case the baby lets out a yip and they hear her. And you got some djeela-juice in one o’ the saddle-bags, haven’t you? Maybe she’d take a drop of that.”

So they moved, with the utmost care and caution, out of the cave and back down the cliff path. The mist was still very thick, the night still black-dark and the going, down the narrow, slippery, twisting path, was slow, unpleasant, and very often terrifying. Dido, holding the bundle of baby, was glad that Tylo walked ahead of her, sometimes reaching back a friendly hand to steady her on the sharper turns. Herodsfoot came behind Dido, every now and then letting out little subdued grunts of anxiety. Dido could sense, as if by telepathy, each time he felt an impulse to take off his glasses and wipe them.

“
Don’t
take those glasses off, Frankie! – wiping them won’t make a mite of difference in this tarnal fog.”

(So far the plaster that Talisman wrapped round the earpiece had held firm, but it was becoming very grubby and frayed.)