Walking the Tree (30 page)

  "This is the placenta garden." A man with a grey beard stood beside her. "We believe the placenta is a seed to be planted."

  "And what have you grown?"

  "Nothing comes up. But it will. When our Order crumbles and dies, the placenta garden will fruit the next generation." Lillah realised this man was a 'watcher', someone who crouches on the low branches, protecting the Order's secrets.

  These men were very wise; they saw all. Lillah thought that the Tale-teller was probably envious of this man, knowing how wise he was, and this might be a reason for his arrogance.

  "I thought perhaps these were lost babies."

  "We don't bury the dead here. We send them out to sea."

  He shivered.

  "Why is it that we fear death so greatly? Do we not believe that there is an elsewhere, a smaller island, somewhere we go to be safe and small?"

  "We can try to believe that. But we cannot know. It is the unknown that frightens us."

  The watcher reminded her of Tilla, though he looked older with his grey beard. Lillah reached up to touch it; it was soft. She saw very few beards.

  "This is a strange colour."

  "I drank from the women's pool," he said. "When I was a boy. I was trying to prove that the myth wasn't true, but instead I proved it was true."

  He took her to see the drinking pools. "If you drank from the men's pool your hair would go grey. All the hair on your body. Let's rejoin the feast."

  Melia and Morace sat among the others as water was brought in carved wooden cups. Melia sipped, then sipped again.

  "This is delicious," she said. "What sort of rainfall is this?"

  "This is not rainfall. It is sea water. We have removed the salt from it, that is all," a young, strong man said.

  The Order chuckled as he said this. "He makes it sound very simple, but each jug of pure water takes many hours of work, many resources. You may have seen us on the water's edge, at work."

  "Not for long. I will discover easier ways. Better ways. We are lucky here; we have a lot of land between water and Tree. We have the space to make this water." His muscles rolled and there was a twist in his cheek.

  "I have never tasted water like it," Melia said softly.

  "You won't taste it anywhere else. No other Order will make the sacrifices needed for the water."

  "Anything is worth it for this water. How do you know what to do?"

  "Many years ago a newcomer arrived. She had word of sweet water and how to make it, but she was disbelieved. I'm ashamed to say our ancestors killed her; strapped her to some wood, slit her arms and her legs, and sent her out to sea. Her words were remembered, though."

  Lillah closed her eyes. She felt sad already: she knew that Melia would stay. This is where she always meant to stay.

  "So you don't fear the sea monster? You are not afraid taking his water will make him angry?"

  "We do not believe there is a sea monster. There is perhaps a very large fish, bigger than we can imagine. But the fish don't mind if we use their water. It would be like us minding if they used our sand. Look at it; it will never run out."

  Lillah hardly knew what to say to this. She walked away to check on the children; they were by the water's edge, staring out.

  "Look, Lillah, out to sea. There is something floating," Morace said.

  "Pull your shoulders back," Lillah whispered to him. "Sit up straight. Look well." She said aloud, "If Thea were here we could send her out to get it."

  "It will float in before too long."

  On the morning tide, it rested on the shore. A raft, built with long solid, sheddings from the Tree. There was nothing tied to it; it was wood alone.

  "Months ago, a long time ago, a raft came back with a body tied to it. You should have seen it. We could no longer tell if it was a man or a woman; the flesh had been picked clean and the clothing rotted away and washed off." Melia's lover told this story with a smile. "This happens sometimes. We send our dead out on a raft, and they come back changed."

  "This happens on the other side of the island, too."

  The watcher came down to the water, shouting and spitting with fury. In this mood he was so much like Tilla, Lillah's old friend from her Order. She stopped herself talking to him, though. He was frightening when he was angry. He seemed even angrier than Tilla was, shouting warnings of terrible gaps in the earth which suck you into the centre.

  "This raft has come from the cracks in the earth. Send it away before it destroys us."

  "Don't listen to him. Superstitious and nasty he is. He thinks the Tree will crack down the middle and devour us because of our evil ways," one young man said, smiling.

  "It's not funny, you great fool. You waste flesh and ignore omens."

  "Where did you come from, old man? Not from here."

  "Is he a newcomer?" Lillah asked.

  "No, we just tease him. He bothers the birthing women, begging for placenta. He wants to perform his ritual but none of us like that."

  "Don't you remember? Are all of you so stupid you don't remember? We sent out that old woman who died at our campfire. She came back blackboned and covered with moss. Don't you remember? Soon after we lost eight, eight of us lost to branchfall."

  "She was one of your people?" Lillah asked. She felt her skin go cold.

  "No, she wasn't one of us. She was a wandering old woman, lost. She said she had no home. She said her home was a place of emptiness and fruitfulness and that she would walk until she found a place fulfilling. She cooked for us, don't you remember?"

  "We remember! We remember the woman, old man."

  "She cooked?"

  "She cooked with spices we had not tasted before. Delicious. She was an overly proud woman, though. And not well. Don't you remember? After a meal. We had swallowed too much fortified fruit, that much I do know. She had danced. I rather liked her. She reminded me of what it was like to be a young man. Those were my thoughts. I remember them."

  Lillah felt tears forming.

  "And then?"

  "And then she died. She danced, she drank, she sat by the fire, and when we went to rouse her, she was gone."

  "Where did she come from?" Melia asked, because Lillah couldn't speak.

  "I remember that she said she came from Ombu. But she was born in Rhado. She said she might walk back to Ombu if there was nothing else for her. That I remember."

  Lillah sank to the ground. Melia caught her by the shoulders.

  "At least you know, Lillah. And she was happy. From what he says, she died as happy as any of us could hope to die."

  Lillah nodded. "I know. I know. It's good."

  But still she felt a sense of loss. It was an ending. Her search was over.

 

It was three nights before Lillah felt she could choose a lover. She liked the strong, muscly one with knowledge of water. "You can have him tonight, Lillah, and until you leave. After that he's mine," Melia said. Lillah watched Melia kissing the other men, caressing them one by one, as if testing out the whole Order to see if it fit. After Douglas, they felt kindly towards other men.

  The sun was up late and the children wouldn't sleep. Morace remembered every now and then about his mother and his face would drop. Lillah thought he wasn't as sad as he pretended to be. It was more fear for his own survival. The schoolchildren began to dig deep in the sand, telling the local children of the last Order, where deep sand caves had kept them cool. Rham told them, "If you dig deep enough, you find the roots of the Tree. They are powerful with magic. Some of the roots stretch all the way to the sea, and if you dig deep enough, make a tunnel, you can let the water run up the beach. You will be the ruler of the water."

  The children took to the project with great delight and the adults were glad of the peace.

  Lillah and her man sat together, talking quietly. They would move away soon, but she was enjoying this quiet time, this thoughtful moment. She saw his home, with its seaweed door-hanging. It smelt faintly of the sea, but it was not as overpowering as she imagined it would be.

  She spoke of Rham, her great cleverness. And of Morace, who was becoming a kind boy.

  "Do you only talk of the children?" he said. "Your children are better than ours." But he smiled as he spoke and kissed her so she couldn't respond.

 

Close to four weeks later, Melia leaned against the Tree, staring up into the leaves intently.

  "Can you see the sky?" Lillah said. "Your eyesight is very good."

  Melia tilted her head back and Lillah saw that she was crying.

  "What is it, Melia?" This girl had never cried, in all the time Lillah known her, in all her life.

  "I'm thinking about my uncle climbing the Tree."

  "Very sad for your mother."

  "Not that. I'm worried these people will find out and they won't take me. No Order wants the risk of someone climbing the Tree. Telling others to climb the Tree."

  Lillah turned her back, partly amused and partly furious at herself for thinking that Melia would care about anyone else.

  "None of us will tell them. Don't worry. We'll protect you."

  "I'm sorry I couldn't protect you from knowing about your mother, Lillah. Would you prefer to think she is free somewhere?"

  "I don't know. It seems she died happy, at least. Something she rarely was in life."

  But then there was a terrible scream from the beach. The children came running; school children, local children, all sandy, tear stained, terrified.

  "The cave fell in! It collapsed! They said it would stay up!"

  "You can dig again," said one of the fathers.

  "No, no, there is someone underneath!"

  Morace, barely able to speak, said, "It's Rham."

  They ran, all of them, the men grabbing large shells on the way, and too many people dug to get her out.

  A sickening silence settled as they reached her face. Her eyes were closed and her mouth full of sand; they dug desperately to free the rest of her body and saw her fingers clutched, her fingernails torn and bloody.

  The Birthman stepped up. "Bring me water and wine," he said. He cleared her throat, so full of sand, and he sat her up. The water and wine came and with these he tried to revive her, but she was gone to the spirit island.

  Morace threw himself to the ground and the other children followed, all of them wailing a terrible, inconsolable sound. "She won't go to the island of the spirits! She'll be caught in the ivy."

  Lillah threw herself down, too, and the other teachers, no thought of comforting the children, just allowing the grief to take them in all its passion.

  For two days the Birthman and the fathers tried to revive Rham, painting her cheeks with red, opening her eyes for her. They propped her against the Tree, food in her hand. They did not want this bad thing to happen in their Order; they did not want to be thought of badly.

  Lillah walked to the water's edge, looking out to the island of the spirits. She felt ill at the thought of Rham's soul being lost, drifting out to sea. If only they'd had a turtle close by, or a bird.

  Morace stepped into the water nearby and fell to his knees. The other children joined him, kneeling and letting the waves slap them.

  A low, rhythmic moaning from them, so low and rhythmic Lillah couldn't tell it from the sound of the waves. They stretched their hands towards the island and the sight broke Lillah.

  "I saw a bird sitting on a rock over there," she said. "Did anyone else see it? It had red feathers on its shoulders, like a neck ruff. It sat there for a long time then flew up into the Tree.

  "Really?" Borag said. "You saw that?"

  "I did," Lillah said. She wished she was a child then, to hear a happy lie and believe it. She wished she knew that Rham's soul was safe.

  Finally, Melia said quietly to Lillah, "We need to send her out to sea. She will never reach the Island of Spirits otherwise. And we don't want her bones eaten by ghosts."

  "That is an odd thing to say," Melia's lover said, kissing her neck. He took her into his arms. "There are no ghosts in the Tree."

  Lillah watched Melia change in that moment. She let belief go so easily, because her lover told her to. Lillah thought, Yet I still see her strength. The teachers washed Rham's little body again, weeping, pouring their salt tears onto her skin. They placed her beloved wooden puzzle in her pocket. The children sat quietly now; some already bored with it all, some so shocked still they couldn't talk.

  "Another messenger is coming. With seaweed around his neck."

  "No. Not more death."

  It was Thea. Fallen from high in the Tree, the messenger said, but they knew that she had been murdered by the men of Douglas.

  Lillah put down her washing cloth, put both her hands up in surrender, and walked up to the Tree. She found a small alcove, dry, ghost-free, and she stepped inside, wanting to be alone, without anyone, alone and not caring about those who died.

It was two days before Melia came to convince her to come out. "We need you, Lillah. You can't give up on us because of a person like Thea."

  Lillah spat at Melia, "It's Rham as well. We failed her. You hated Thea, but I didn't."

  "You didn't like her. You are lying to yourself. You despised her as much as the rest of us did."

  Lillah stared at her. "What do you care? You'll be staying here, I imagine."

  "How did you know?"

  "You are so predictable. You don't care about the men. You want the water."

  Melia flicked her hand, as if dismissing the importance of the men.

  "The men will do," she said.