The Reef (22 page)

Santiago was still sitting on the sand, the breeze on his face as he stared towards nothing in particular. Forb never realised just how much the foreigners looked out to sea since they had arrived. They weren’t reading it, like he did, for signs. They seemed to stare longingly, as if the sea itself affected their thoughts, as if it could change them. But he realised that the sea did indeed do that, if you weren’t used to it. Even if you were, it seemed a motivation for change. It had the raw power to penetrate the mind. It felt strange, having these people here, on Arya. He was glad of their company, but he had not been amongst his own people for so long that they no longer felt real to him. Except Manolin. There was something about the young man that Forb admired deeply-a quality that suggested he wanted to know about the natural world so badly that he could almost stand in the forest perfectly still and allow lichen and moss to cover him. An interesting young man.

Yana sat down next to him on the sand and regarded the dark lagoon. ‘Hey.’

‘Hi.’

She said, ‘Stuff on your mind?’

The moon had arced noticeably in the sky. She felt sad for him, but not surprised. She had comforted him on the journey to Arya, but knew that scars like those never really left a man, that men didn’t forget things like that. A woman might have to, of course, but this wasn’t a night for her concerns.

‘You know, this could be quite romantic, given the right couple,’ Yana said. Manolin turned, laughed. ‘What a waste.’ Then, ‘So things not good between you and Jef?’ Yana said, ‘Course not. They haven’t been good for a long time. It’s been over for months as far as I’m concerned.’

‘What made you realise it was over?’

She paused to think, searched her mind for the moment that lingered in her memory. ‘One day, we were just sitting there in one of the harbour inns. It was raining, so we went in and had a bite to eat and a woman walked by. She wasn’t much. Petite, a little younger, but

I saw Jefry’s eyes follow her across the room and out the door. I could cope with that. Then, two rumel friends of his-not close ones passed by and he stood up and talked to them for several minutes, whilst I just sat and ate, and he didn’t introduce them to me.

‘In the evening, I felt I needed to be wanted, so I dressed up in some nice, silk underwear, and when I went in the room he was fast asleep. He didn’t even say he was going. I put some clothes on and went out. I went to some new city bars on my own. Don’t know what for. I was dressed up and needed to go, I guess. Guys came up to me-me, a woman of my age. They bought me drinks, made me laugh. I felt desired. You have no idea how long it’d been, Manolin. I didn’t do anything that night. I went home, and in bed I just hoped he’d but his arm around me, or even his tail, but nothing. One day, and that was it. I don’t expect flowers or perfume or anything like that. Just a genuine smile and a look to know you’re wanted, that would’ve done.’

Manolin nodded, by didn’t look her in the eye. He was still entranced by the surf. Yana wondered if he felt her pain, having been in a similarly situation. Was this young man capable of focussing on her, not his own thoughts? But out here, away from Escha, it didn’t seem to matter so much. Her problems weren’t trivialised, more put into a wider perspective.

She stood up and the wind threw back her hair, and she could hear the palms behind her shaking. She brushed sand from her clothes. Manolin stood up to join her. ‘We should be getting back. Who’s on lookout tonight?’ ‘Santiago and Arth are. I don’t know what they’re exactly looking out for though.’ ‘Me neither. There haven’t been any ichthyocentaurs killed for a while now, from what Forb says.’

Yana said, ‘You’re getting on well with him, aren’t you?’

‘Yeah. We think alike, you know?’

‘Yes. You both like the same things in a woman.’ Yana smiled.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ Manolin said, smirking. ‘Is it that obvious? She’s pretty, but I’m not up for any of that. No, Forb’s a good man. He seems a bit odd though.’

‘How do you mean?’

Manolin said, ‘He doesn’t open up much. I just assumed being back to nature like this, it’d make someone quite, well, philosophical. Sensual. I don’t know, he doesn’t say too much about himself. He’s pretty mysterious.’ He could feel the spray from the water, high in the wind, and along the beach to the settlement, he could see shadows of humans entering huts.

Yana did not reply. She held her hair back from the wind, gazing out into the black. ‘Okay, let’s get back. We’ve got the hunt tomorrow. Another busy one.’

‘Should be interesting at least.’

Santiago gave Manolin a hand up out of the small raft and into the hut. It was totally dark, and Santiago clutched a musket in his other hand as Manolin stepped by him inside.

‘Thanks,’ Manolin said, then sat on his bedding. He could smell the intense fragrances from the forest, the salt in the air. ‘See anything, San?’ Then, ‘You been drinking again? Arrahd, I can smell it on your breath.’

‘Hmm,’ Santiago said, staring out into the darkness over the sea. ‘I think so, well, not really
seeing
as such, just
hearing.
And only a small glass of rum, nothing much.’

Manolin shrugged. ‘What d’you hear?

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say I heard a song.’

‘A song?’

‘A song. Rather, a gentle melody. Like a woman singing, then harmonies. It was almost soothing, if it wasn’t so damn eerie.’

Manolin sat up, the blankets around his legs to keep of any chill. ‘It’s probably the wind. Or your imagination, it’s eerie out there.’ Manolin stood up and walked to the door. He looked to where the volcano was now a shadow, and he could see tiny flames near the ichthyocentaurs’ settlement. They moved around like sparks from a fire, but slowly. Then, he too heard the sound, that soothing song. ‘I think I can hear it too, you know. Do you think it’s coming from the settlement?’

Then the sound stopped.

‘No,’ Santiago said. ‘The wind would’ve taken it away. This is coming from out at sea. I’ve been watching the ichthyocentaurs and whenever I can hear the sound, I can see their flames. It’s been happening on and off for the last three hours.’

Manolin said, ‘Do you think the disappearances are related to the sound? Suicide?’

‘Not suicide, no. Forb had said that the bodies were torn open.’

‘Oh yeah, I remember,’ Manolin said. ‘But the sound?’

‘Possibly. It’s too hard to tell. They’ve been moved up there to stop them being killed, and it seems to have worked for now, but they seem busy with those flames.’ Manolin watched the tiny fires spark in and out of darkness when concealed by the forest. ‘What do you propose then? We’ve got the hunt tomorrow, and a fairly big island profile to start work on.’

‘Well, I guess if whatever happens occurs at night, we should bring an ichthyocentaur down and watch the fellow.’ ‘You mean bait?’ Manolin said. ‘If you put it like that, yes,’ Santiago said. Manolin said, ‘You can’t do that.’ ‘We’ll keep an eye out. Plus we’ll have muskets and pistols. He’ll be quite all right, I can assure you.’

‘Well, I don’t think it’s ethical.’

‘Ethical, indeed. We’re here to investigate, Manolin, not ponce around on holiday. And I don’t want anyone mixing with the natives too much, all right? I’d prefer it if we kept ourselves to ourselves. I don’t want anyone getting too attached, nor do I want anyone catching some disease.’

Manolin was silent, walked to his bedding again.

‘What did Yana have to say?’ Santiago said.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Yana. What were you two chatting about on the beach?’

Manolin said, ‘Oh. Nothing.’

Seventeen

Santiago lit his freshly rolled cigarette, and the wind took one of the loose leaves from the pack in his front pocket. The paper skimmed along the bright sand, raced along the edge of the sea, missing the foam, then up towards the native village, where Manolin and the doctor’s son were playing catch. Then, it hung in the air, gliding between the two. The boy seemed happy, and despite the strong breeze, Santiago could hear him laugh. Out at sea fishermen were rowing back with nets that were full from the evening. Along the green water of the lagoon, you could see the shadows of quick-flying birds.

It was early and he had just had a swim in the lagoon before preparing for the hunt, which was an hour away. Despite being early, it was hot, but not uncomfortable, and the wind, he hoped, would be a benefit later in the day. The others were making their way to the native village for breakfast. He walked up the beach, could see Becq standing a few feet behind Manolin, her eyes fixed on him.

She was smiling as Manolin threw the wooden disc to Lewys, who dived at any given opportunity. Manolin, too, was ambitious to please the lad, or himself. His daughter had caught the sun from the tour, and her cheeks were red.

Santiago put his hand on her shoulder. ‘Morning, Becq. Are you coming from breakfast?’

‘Hi. Sure.’ They walked along behind Manolin, who turned to see them walking towards the village.

‘Hey, Lewys,’ Manolin said to the boy. ‘Fancy some food?’

‘Okay.’ The boy trotted up next to him and they followed Santiago and Becq.

Forb bent down to pick up a leaf of cigarette paper, brought it close to his face to examine it. He frowned, folded the paper up, placed it in his shirt pocket. ‘Okay, everyone,’ he said to the group. Two native men women walked behind him, further into the village. They were carrying long, wooden spears. ‘It’s the morning of the hunt. I hope you’re all looking forward to it?’

‘Certainly am,’ Manolin said.

‘Will it involve much running?’ Yana asked.

‘Quite a bit. Look, those of you who don’t want to can just stay here in the village. Nothing’s compulsory. If you like to experience life on Arya, then this is the way to do it. That’s all the hunt is really-experiencing island life in its most natural state.’

‘Okay,’ Yana said. ‘Look, I’ve been ill, so I’m not going to go.’

‘I’ll stay with you then,’ Becq said.

‘That’s all right,’ Forb said. ‘Who’s up for the hunt then?’

Manolin, Santiago, Jefry and Arth nodded their inclusion.

‘Great. I take it Mr Calyban and Mr Soul won’t participate?’

‘Best if they don’t,’ Santiago said. ‘They’re liable to get a shot in the head. Accidents will happen.’

Forb smiled. ‘We won’t of course be using muskets, Santiago. If you miss once with a musket, everything will clear right off at the sound, and you won’t get a second shot.’

‘What will we use?’ Manolin said.

‘Poisoned darts. We, or rather the ichthyocentaurs, help us coat the tip in spider venom. Very silent way to kill them. Hogs don’t last long. The levels on the tips of the dart are rather a high concentration, and therefore anything that gets in the way dies, but dies peacefully, in a drug-endued state. We like to think that the hogs suffer less this way.’

‘I see,’ Manolin said. ‘Now, we only hunt for three months of the year. That allows the hogs to breed sufficiently. And this is one of the last of the season.’

The natives began to gather around the group. They were wearing black paint on their dark faces and bodies. One man carried a large conch. Two others carried a drum. There were surprisingly more women then men, and they each carried long, thin tubes through which they blew darts. Three more women had spears.

‘I say, Forb,’ Santiago said. ‘We’re not properly dressed for this.’ ‘Well, you can take your shirt off and we’ll put some mud and paint on you so that you blend in.’

‘Sounds fun,’ Manolin said. He unbuttoned his shirt with little hesitation, wanting to involve himself fully in the workings of the island. He folded it up, placed it in his bag. He had lost some weight since leaving Escha. He had not eaten much at sea, and he had browned in the sun, which made him look lean.
Give it a year and I’ll be like a native,
he thought. He was half conscious of Becq staring at him as he turned to face Forb.

Forb gestured towards Myranda, who entered a small, thatched hut, then returned with a wooden pot. She and Forb then began to apply the mud evenly to his skin, blending the paste in. They applied it softly, yet firmly and Manolin felt a little embarrassed of their hands, yet at the same time was glad that Myranda was touching him. He glanced towards Becq, who’s eyes were narrow, and she turned away to say something to Yana.

Santiago took his shirt off to reveal his paunch, and pasty skin, which he had not allowed to brown, because of the smart manner in which he dressed. Myranda handed the pot to a native man, who began to apply the paste to Santiago, who looked not a little disappointed at the change. ‘Go easy, man,’ Santiago said.

‘Thou worries greatly,’ the native man said. He had a wide face, a broad nose.

Santiago said, ‘Just not use to tribal ways.’

‘It will be so.’

Jefry and Arth looked at each other and shrugged, taking off their shirts to reveal their tough, black, rumel hide. ‘See, being black just gets better,’ Arth said. Forb laughed, looking at the rumel as he finished painting Manolin. ‘Will you want any, anyway?’

‘No, you’re all right. I’ll stick with what I’ve got,’ Arth said. He shook his arms loosely as if to prepare for a fight. Jefry laughed, flexing his arms like a bodybuilder. ‘Still got it, eh?’ Yana grunted a laugh that Jefry didn’t hear, and she and Becq began to walk away from the village and to the seafront.