The Wind Singer (9 page)

Kestrel was by now infected by her father’s intense excitement. She held tight to his arm, as if to stop him going anywhere without her.

‘So it’s real?’

‘Yes, it’s real, I know it. I can read old Manth. Look, here it says
The Great Way
. Here,
Crack-in-the-land
. Here,
The Halls of Morah
. Here,
Into the fire
.’

He turned the map over, and looked at the writing there, and the curious S shape drawn beside it.

‘This is the mark of the Singer People.’

‘The Emperor said it was the voice of the wind singer.’

‘Then it must be made in the shape of their mark.’

He studied the faded writing carefully, piecing together the words, speaking slowly.

‘The song of the wind singer .. . will set you free. Then seek .. . the homeland.’

He looked up at Kestrel, his eyes shining.

‘Oh, Kess. If only I could get away .. .’

He began to pace up and down the tiny bathroom, his mind racing with wild plans, each of which, after a moment of hope, ended in a frustrated shake of his head.

‘No .. . They’d take Ira, and the children .. .’

He shivered.

‘It’s best if I co-operate. My punishment isn’t so bad. I’m to go on a Study Course, until the High Examination.’

‘Study Course! Prison, you mean.’

‘Well, well,’ said her father gently. ‘It’ll do me no harm. And perhaps if I work hard I’ll do better in the High Examination, and then I’ll ask for you to be given a second chance.’

‘I don’t want a second chance. I hate them.’

‘But I couldn’t bear it if you – ’

He cut himself off with a shrug.

‘I’d do anything for you, my darling one. I’d die for you. But it seems the trial I have to endure is knowing I can do nothing.’

He fell silent, gazing at the map. From the foot of the stairs they heard Dr Minish’s cross voice calling up.

‘Come along, sir! We’re waiting!’

‘The Emperor said if I brought the voice back, and the wind singer sang, there’d be no more tests.’

‘Ah, did he say that?’

For a moment the sadness left his eyes.

‘But, my darling one, you can’t go, you’re only a child. And anyway, they’ll never let you leave the city. They’re watching out for you. No, this must wait until I come home again.’

In the front room downstairs, the waiting teachers were growing more impatient and thirstier by the minute. When Mrs Hath returned from the kitchen, she was carrying Pinpin, now fast asleep in her arms. Dr Batch, eagerly awaiting his lemonade, stared at her in a pointed way. Dr Minish frowned and looked at his watch again.

‘You said something about lemonade,’ said Dr Batch.

‘Lemonade?’ said Mrs Hath.

‘You offered us a drink,’ said Dr Batch, a little more sharply.

‘Did I?’ She sounded surprised.

‘You did, ma’am. You asked if we would like some lemonade.’

‘Yes. I remember that.’

‘And we replied in the affirmative.’

‘Yes. I remember that too.’

‘But you don’t bring it.’

‘Bring it, Dr Batch? I don’t understand.’

‘You asked us if we would like some lemonade,’ said the teacher slowly, as if to a particularly stupid pupil, ‘and we said yes. Now it is for you to fetch it.’

‘Why?’

‘Because – because – because we want it.’

‘But Dr Batch, there must be some misunderstanding. I have no lemonade.’

‘No lemonade? Madam, you offered us lemonade. How can you deny it?’

‘How could I offer you lemonade, when I have none in the house? No, sir. I asked you if you liked lemonade. That is not the same thing at all.’

‘Good grief, woman! Why ask a man if he likes something if you don’t mean to give it to him?’

‘This is very odd, Dr Batch. Am I to give you everything you say you like? No doubt you like long summer evenings, but I hope you don’t expect me to fetch you one.’

Dr Minish stood up.

‘Call the marshals,’ he said. ‘Enough is enough.’

Dr Batch stood up.

‘Your daughter will be found, and she will be dealt with. You can be sure of that.’

Dr Minish called up the stairs.

‘Are you coming, sir? Or must you be fetched?’

The bathroom door opened and Hanno came out. As he came down the stairs, Dr Batch opened the street door.

‘Mr Hath is leaving now,’ he said to the marshals.

The crowd outside pressed closer.

Hanno Hath came into the front room, and made his farewells. He kissed baby Pinpin, still sleeping in Mrs Hath’s arms. He kissed his wife, who for all her defiance couldn’t keep the tears from her eyes. Then he kissed Bowman, whispering to him as he did so,

‘Look after Kess for me.’

He swung his suitcase into one hand and strode out of the door. The marshals fell into step, one on each side, and the two scarlet-gowned teachers waddled along behind. The crowd fell back to gaze in silence at the little procession as it passed. The Hath family stood together on their front step, watching him go. They held their heads high, and waved after him, as if he was going on a holiday. But the onlookers shook their heads and murmured, ‘Poor man’, at the shame of it all.

As the procession reached the corner of the street, Hanno Hath stopped for a brief moment, and looked back. He gave a last wave, a wide sweep of his arm above his head, and smiled. Bowman never forgot that wave, or that smile, because as he watched from the steps he caught his father’s feelings in a sudden very clear moment. He felt the immensity of his father’s love for them all, warm and strong and inexhaustible, and he felt too a silent cry of desolation, which if it had words would be saying, Must I leave you for ever?

At the same time Rufy Blesh’s father, who was standing close by, saw that smile and that defiant wave, and Bowman heard him say to his wife, ‘He can smile as much as he wants, they’ll never let him see his family again.’

That was when Bowman decided, deep inside himself, that there was nothing he would not do to bring his father back, that he would destroy all Aramanth if he had to, for what did he care for a lifetime of this neat and orderly world compared to one moment of his father’s brave loving smile?

9

Escape from Aramanth

T
hat night, wardens took up positions in front of the house and behind, so that they could catch Kestrel when she came home; which they believed she would do once it was dark. Kestrel, of course, was already inside the house, keeping out of sight of the windows. Once night fell, and they could draw the curtains without arousing suspicion, she moved about more freely.

Ira Hath refused to panic or cry. She repeated so many times, so steadfastly, ‘Your father will come back to us’, that the twins began to believe it. She fed Pinpin, and bathed her, just as always. She made the wish huddle with her three children, just as always, though it felt wrong without their father. But they all wished for him to come home, which somehow made it feel as if he was there after all. Then she tucked Pinpin up in her cot, just as always. And only after Pinpin was asleep did she sit down with the twins and fold her hands in her lap and say,

‘Tell me everything.’

Kestrel told all that had happened to her, and also what her father had said. Then she took out the map and, before she forgot them, wrote beside each set of squiggly letters the words her father had told her:
The Great Way
,
Crack-in-the-land
,
The Halls of Morah
,
Into the Fire
.

On the back she copied out the translation of the writing, also from memory:

The song of the wind singer will set you free. Then seek the homeland
.

‘Ah, the homeland,’ said Ira Hath with a sigh. ‘This place was never meant to be our true home.’

‘Where is the homeland?’

‘Who knows? But we’ll know it when we find it.’

‘How?’

‘Because it’ll feel like home, of course.’

She looked a little longer at the map, and rolled it up again.

‘Whatever it is, it had better wait till your father comes back,’ she said. ‘Right now, we have to decide what to do about you.’

‘Can’t I hide here, in the house?’

‘My darling, I don’t think we’ll be allowed to stay in this house very much longer.’

‘I won’t let them take me away. I won’t.’

‘No, no. We must hide you. I’ll think of something.’

The emotions of the long day had exhausted them, Kestrel most of all, so Ira Hath decided to leave further discussion until the morning. But they had not reckoned how speedily they were to be punished.

The sun had barely risen when they were woken by a loud banging on the front door.

‘Up! Get up! Time to go!’

Mrs Hath opened her bedroom window and leaned out to see what was going on. A squad of marshals was outside in the street.

‘Pack up your things!’ cried one of the marshals. ‘You’re moving out!’

They had been reallocated: not to Maroon, as they had expected, but to Grey District. Their new home was to be a single room in a ten-storey high block, shared by three hundred families. Their house in Orange was to be handed over by noon at the latest to a new family.

Ira Hath was undaunted.

‘All the less cleaning to do,’ she said, as she roused Pinpin from sleep.

The immediate problem was Kestrel. The marshals were still on the lookout for her, and they had now taken up positions at the back as well as the front of the house. How could the family leave without Kestrel being discovered?

In a little while, two wardens came down the street wheeling an empty cart to move the Hath family’s possessions to Grey District. The neighbours were now up, and many of them had come out of their houses to watch the interesting spectacle that would soon unfold.

‘There’ll be tears. The mother’ll come out weeping. They always do when it’s a demotion. But the new ones, oh, they’ll be smiling.’

‘What about the baby? Isn’t there a baby? She’ll have no idea what’s happening to her.’

‘Those twins though, they’re sharp as knives, the two of them.’

‘Did you hear what the girl did? I knew she’d come to no good.’

‘Well, she’ll be sorry now.’

Inside the house they were discussing whether Kestrel could be smuggled out inside the big blanket trunk. Bowman looked out of the window at the marshals, and the wardens, and the neighbours, and shook his head.

‘It’s too risky.’

As he looked, his eyes fell on a small figure at the back of the crowd. It was Mumpo. He was skulking about, his eyes fixed hopefully on the front door, evidently waiting for Kestrel.

‘Mumpo’s out there,’ he said.

‘Not stinky old Mumpo,’ said Kestrel.

‘I’ve had an idea.’

Bowman went to the cupboard in their bedroom and took out Kestrel’s winter cloak, a long orange garment with a hood for the cold weather. He bundled it up tight and pushed it down the front of his tunic.

‘I’m going out to talk to Mumpo,’ he said. ‘Don’t do anything till I come back.’

‘But Bo – ’

He was gone.

‘You ready, then?’ called one of the grey wardens, as he came out of the front door.

‘Not yet,’ said Bowman, trotting past him on to the street. ‘My mother’s a fussy packer.’

He ran all the way down the street, to avoid having to talk to the curious neighbours, and only came to a stop when he was out of sight round the corner. As he had expected, Mumpo shortly came into view, puffing and dribbling.

‘Bo!’ he cried. ‘What’s happening? Where’s Kess?’

‘Do you want to help her?’

‘Yes. I’ll help her. Where is she?’

Bowman pulled the orange cloak out from under his tunic and shook it open.

‘Here’s what you have to do.’

Bowman had been back in the house a good hour when at last his mother opened the door and told the wardens they could carry out the trunks. To the wardens’ surprise, the trunks had been packed in the top back bedroom, the furthest point in the house from the front door.

‘Why couldn’t you pack in the hall? These hogging stairs are no joke, you know.’

To add to the confusion, the family who were to move into the house, who were called Warmish, arrived early, trailed by two heavily-laden carts. They were naturally eager to come in and look round, but Ira Hath planted herself in the doorway so that they couldn’t get past, and smiled at them implacably.

‘How much room is there in the kitchen?’ asked Mrs Warmish. ‘Would you call it a kitchen-breakfast room, or more like a kitchen-dinette?’

‘Oh, it’s very roomy,’ said Mrs Hath. ‘The kitchen table seats thirty-six, at a pinch.’

‘Thirty-six? Good heavens! Are you sure?’

‘And just you wait till you see the bathroom! We’ve had eight fully-grown adults bathing at once, and every one of them with room to lie and soak.’

‘Well, my word!’ Mrs Warmish was so bewildered by this information that she didn’t know what to say, and fell back on the little she could see beyond Mrs Hath’s broad body.

‘So is the flooring polished, or is it varnished?’

‘Varnish?’ said Mrs Hath witheringly. ‘Pure beeswax, I assure you, as in all the best homes.’

One by one the trunks were hauled out into the cart. The furniture was all to stay behind, since their new apartment would be so much smaller. When the last trunk had been carried out of the house, Mrs Hath, still guarding the doorway against the eagerness of the Warmishes, hoisted Pinpin up into her arms, and turned to catch Bowman’s eye. He gave her a brief nod, and slipped past her on to the front step. From here, he set off as if to the laden cart, but then suddenly pointed to the back of the crowd, and called,

‘Kess!’

Everybody turned, and saw the figure of a child, hooded and cloaked, standing at the far end of the street.

‘Run, Kess, run!’ shouted Bowman.

The child turned and ran.

At once, the marshals and the wardens set off at a gallop after the child, and the crowd of neighbours hurried down the street in the hope of witnessing the moment of capture.

Kestrel slipped out of the front door, and would have got away entirely unnoticed, had Pinpin not seen her, and cried in delight, ‘Kess!’ The slowest of the wardens, who had been tying the trunks on to the cart when the chase began, heard this cry and turned to see Kestrel bolting down the side alley, with Bowman close after her.