The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (3 page)

"Are you" — Tendai could hear Father looming out of his chair — "are you saying my son's a
coward?"

The instructor paused. Tendai held his breath. "Not exactly. He feels the other person's pain. That's a bad trait in a soldier."

Tendai leaned against the wall. He had thought the man too stupid to notice.

Father settled back with a heavy sigh. "I'll have to think about this."

"I wish you would. There's a problem in a completely different area."

"I would welcome a completely different area."

"A lot of people are worried about the trade agreement with Gondwanna," the instructor said. "It gives them entry into too many parts of the country."

Tendai stopped listening. The Gondwannans were everybody's bogeymen. They were blamed for everything from locusts to headaches. Zimbabwe had signed a peace treaty with them years before, but it seemed no one could let bygones be bygones. Tendai was bored with Gondwannans, who lived far to the north and probably carried on their boring lives in exactly the same way as Zimbabweans.

What was he going to do about Father? It's not fair, he thought, clenching his fists. I hate that instructor. I'll stick
him
with a spear if he wants a good report. But even as he imagined this, Tendai
felt
the blade he had just — mentally — driven into the instructor's chest. The sensation made him sick. Does that make me a coward? he thought.

"I won't ever accept the Gondwannan ideas on sacrifice," came the instructor's voice from the library.

"We sacrifice animals," Father said, "and we aren't vegetarians."

"It's the
way
they do it. We kill mercifully. To them, the whole point is pain. They believe their gods are asleep and can only be roused if they send a messenger — a sacrifice, that is. The more pain the messenger has endured, the more brightly it burns with anger when it reaches the spirit world. Their gods are so used to messengers, it takes a lot to get their attention."

"Strange," said Father.

"Strange and terrible. The problem is, they've been doing it in Zimbabwe."

"I'll put a stop to that," growled Father.

"Here's just one example. In Bulawayo, a Gondwannan bought a goat. ..." The instructor explained how the goat followed its buyer to a courtyard, where other Gondwannans
 
waited.
 
There,
 
it
 
ate
 
the grass left out for it as the men sharpened their knives. Tendai didn't want to listen, but at the same time he was drawn into the story. It was the image of the trusting goat that impressed him.

The instructor began to describe what was done to the animal, leaving nothing out. It was as clear as the surgeon's report, but Tendai's mind added other details. He smelled the blood, he heard the bleating —

"What was that?" said Father. The men came to the door at once. Tendai looked at them from the floor, where he had slid when his knees turned to rubber. "Why are you sitting here?" thundered Father.

"I — didn't want to disturb you." Tendai scrambled to his feet.

"Were you eavesdropping?"

"I — yes. I didn't mean to —"

"It would be interesting to know how long he was there," the instructor said dryly.

"I will not be spied on in my own house!" shouted Father. "You of all people should know only cowards listen at doors. If you're curious, ask a question. Don't skulk!
Maiwee!
He turned abruptly and strode back into the library with the instructor. The door slammed.

Tendai felt bathed in heat. His ears rang with Father's powerful voice. For a minute he couldn't do anything. Then he went to his room, where he sat with his eyes closed and tears running down his face. But he didn't make a sound. No way would he let Rita and Kuda find out he was crying. Presently, the tears dried up, leaving a heavy residue of despair behind. If he wasn't fit for a military career, what
was
he good for? And was being a coward something you were born with, like ears that stuck out?

The stretch limo whirred as it left the antigrav pad. Tendai squinted at the bright sky. He saw the chauffeur, the martial arts instructor and Father. They were probably going to meet Mother for lunch. Rita and Kuda waved at the limo from the garden.

A flutter caught Tendai's attention: the mynah was battering the force screen in an attempt to get out the window. "You're trapped, too," said Tendai, gently removing the bird to his table. He gave it the remains of a cookie from his pocket. The bird kept glancing at the window. Tendai examined its wings and saw that the leading pen feathers had grown back. The Mellower plucked them out of the right wing when he remembered. That unbalanced the mynah so it couldn't fly.

But of course the Mellower often forgot, as he forgot most things. The mynah was perfectly capable of flight now. Tendai switched off the force screen and waited. The bird, casting a quick look in his direction, flew at the window again, but this time it encountered no barrier. It gave a loud squawk of surprise as it sailed out. Then, realizing its good fortune, it rose up, up, up, following the path of the stretch limo.

The mynah lifted on a rise of warm air as it coasted over the garden wall, over the snapping electric wires and broken glass and machine guns. It was a black dot in a hot blue sky, going swiftly, and then it was gone.

Tendai, somewhat regretfully, closed the bird cage and put it into a closet. Well, the mynah was free now, and it hadn't even looked back.

Three

Tendai went out to the garden, where he found Rita and Kuda trying to rouse the Mellower. The man was lying on a couch under a jacaranda tree. From the layer of purple petals that had drifted over him, it was clear he had been there awhile.

"Come on, Mellower," urged Rita. "Unlock the pantry so I can reprogram it."

"Let's tip over the couch," suggested Kuda. The little boy tried to lift the legs, but the couch was too heavy.

"Father's gone," Tendai said, who had an idea about what motivated the Mellower. The man opened one eye. "And Mother, too," he added.

The Praise Singer sat up and stretched. "What a wonderful day!" he cried. "Just look at that blue sky! Don't the jacaranda flowers make a magnificent carpet on the green grass?"

"Come on. I have to reprogram the pantry before it starts cooking." Rita grasped one of the Mellower's hands and Kuda took the other. Together, they pulled him to the kitchen, where a large control panel sat behind a locked glass door. The Mellower pressed his thumb to the lock, which hummed as it considered his print. It chimed, and the door slid into the wall.

"Hurrah!" yelled Kuda as Rita began to access the pantry. Tendai knew, as eldest brother, that he ought to object, but he was still in a grim mood about what he had heard in the library. It wasn't often they were left alone. As long as either Father or Mother were home — no matter how inaccessible — the Mellower wouldn't dare interfere with the day's activities. Of course, being the Mellower, he often did so by accident.

"What's for lunch?" inquired Kuda.

Rita called up the memory. "Soy burgers, stewed parsnips and brown rice."

"Ewww!"

"Any suggestions?"

"Sausages and potato chips!" cried Kuda. "Scones, jam and whipped cream!"

"Ice cream and chocolate sauce!" cried the Mellower.

"Chicken with that crispy batter — and fried shrimp! — and that cheesecake Aunt Farai made." Rita typed busily.

"Shouldn't we have vegetables?" said Tendai.

"A tomato for Tendai," finished Rita.

"There!" She stood back watching the pantry whir and click. In a few minutes a delicious smell wafted out of the food compartment as plates were filled.

The Mellower threw open the kitchen windows. The air conditioner began to whine in protest. Rita turned it off. A warm breeze laden with the scent of freshly cut grass replaced the house air — not that anything was wrong with the house air. All the pollen, dust and pollution was filtered out, with artificial perfume added to cover up a rather flat smell. The house air was okay, but wild air was more interesting. Whenever Mother and Father were away, the children opened the windows.

Kuda tossed his chicken bones onto the floor, which sent the butler and maid robots scurrying to retrieve them. The Mellower talked so much, ice cream melted off his spoon and ran down his shirt. He told them about Great Zimbabwe, the ancient ruined city to the south, and of Monomatapa, who founded the Shona Empire.

As the man talked, Tendai imagined the ancient king. When Monomatapa traveled, his royal guard went before him with battle-axes and heavy-bladed hunting spears. Then came a ceremonial drum carried on a pole between two men. It was beaten
 
continuously as they walked. The king rode on a litter, surrounded by Praise Singers, musicians and dancers. "Here comes the Lord of the Sun and Moon, the Lion that prowls by Night!" they sang to the sounds of hand pianos, iron bells and the shell anklets of the dancers. Red dust rose up around them, sending a plume into the air to alert people the king was approaching.

Behind the musicians walked women bearing Monomatapa's household needs, courtiers who carried his furniture and more soldiers.

Whenever the sound of the king's drum was heard, villagers threw down their tools and ran out to salute him. When he desired to eat, a ceremonial stool was placed in a clearing. His women approached him on their knees with food, and all the others waited in a ring to hear his good words and repeat them to the waiting crowds behind.

"I wish I were a king," sighed Kuda.

"Well, I wouldn't have liked to live then," Rita snapped. "Imagine creeping up to someone on your knees."

"How can you tell it so well? It's like we were really there." Tendai, for a moment, had actually been in the clearing, listening to the shrill, welcoming cries of the women.

"I have a
shave
for storytelling," the Mellower explained. Tendai nodded. A
shave
was a wandering spirit who entered you and taught you a special skill. It didn't matter that the Mellower was of the English tribe and the
shave
was obviously Shona. You didn't have a choice about who possessed you: when a spirit wanted you, he or she generally got his or her way. If you resisted, the spirit made you sick.

Rita, now, clearly showed that her great-grandmother, a gifted mathematician, had decided to pass on her skills. Great-grandmother was a
mudzimu,
or family spirit. It wasn't surprising when a departed family member bestowed her blessing on a descendant.
Shaves
were more unusual but by no means rare. When someone died without a descendant or proper burial rites, he or she turned into a
shave
and wandered until a willing host was found.

Kuda was too young to be possessed. Tendai was certain some warlike ancestor would be delighted with his little brother when he was older. But what about me? he thought. He didn't have any special skills. Quite a lot of dull, ordinary people weren't ever possessed by anybody. They weren't worth it. Tendai sighed.

"You forgot to eat your tomato," said Rita.

"I don't want it."

"I do!" Kuda cried, and he hurled the tomato straight at the butler robot. It burst across the machine's dark blue uniform.

"Kuda!" yelled Rita.

"Food fight! Food fight!" Kuda shouted. He threw a fistful of potato chips at her. Rita immediately slopped ice cream onto his hair. Kuda armed himself with the remaining chicken bones.

"Not fair! I don't have any ammunition," cried Rita. The Mellower handed her the sugar bowl. The sugar did very well because it stuck to the ice cream. Next came raspberry jam, a cup of tea and the milk jug. The Mellower joined in, throwing chocolate sauce and dodging chicken bones. The floor and walls of the kitchen were splattered. Rita, Kuda and the Mellower dashed around, knocking over chairs, skidding on the wet floor and banging into the distraught robots, who were trying to clean up.

"Come on!" shouted Kuda to Tendai.

"No thanks!"

"You're a wimp!"

Tendai withdrew to a corner. He watched with irritation as the others turned the room upside down. Finally, they collapsed into a heap, panting with exhaustion. "Oh!" gasped Rita. "That was fun!" The automatic mop came out of its cubbyhole to repair the damage.