Duncton Tales (63 page)

“Prime,” whispered Gaunt when Rooster, humble and quiet, set him down and made him comfortable again, “this mole honours the teaching you have given him. This mole honours thee. For now.”

A ripple of pleasure went among the listening moles. Gaunt was satisfied. But then, concern.

“‘For now’, Mentor?” said Prime, sharing the others’ concern by repeating those last two ambiguous words.

“Well, Rooster?” said Gaunt.

“Could do better,” he admitted gruffly. “Not best yet.”

“Not best yet’! What then would be ‘better’?

“Well, then, mole, you’d best go on to the Terce Chamber this day and learn what more you can,” said Gaunt lightly.

A look of delight came to Rooster’s eyes.

“But I thought … I was beginning here. I …”

“You are ready to move on,” said Gaunt, reaching a paw to touch him. “You have learned much. Now, learn more. You may have little time.”

“But I have a lifetime —”

“Go, mole!” said Gaunt with mock severity. “Go to Terce!”

It was after this incident that for the first time Gaunt laid bare to Samphire his fears and forebodings at what the future held for each of them.

“I said before that the coming of Rooster marked the end of the Charnel’s usual life, and the beginning of something new. Today, when I heard the sounding of his delve, I knew that it would not be long before your son has done for the other Chambers what he has already done for Prime.”

Gaunt eased his aching limbs, and winced with the pain of them and with the effort of talking, and Samphire came closer to hold his head in her gentle paws. She knew how hard the time of Rooster’s training had been for Gaunt, and how difficult it had sometimes been for him to be so relentless in his pressure for perfection on a mole who was from the first producing delving of a quality and depth far beyond that which any mole had produced in the Charnel before. Joy had vied with discipline, hope with fear that the dream of the coming of a Master could not last. Now there was foreboding.

“How little we have talked of matters close to ourselves,” whispered Gaunt, “so close have we become there seemed no need for words. I, who am old and crippled, and close to dying now, could never for a moment have dreamt that so late in my life the Stone would send a mole to me I might love, and who might love me. But you came, Samphire, and your life and strength have prolonged mine, and made possible the last and most important part of my teaching life, which has been and is with Rooster, and, as well, with Glee and Humlock. For those two are part of his Mastership. Their love and friendship are the rock on which his paws are set.”

“The Stone will provide, my dear,” said Samphire. “As it has brought us joy in this joyless place, so will it help Rooster and his friends.”

But Gaunt shook his head.

“No, Samphire, the Stone does not expect such passivity of mole. We must act, that is not only our right but our duty as well. Right action … it is the essence of life as it is at the heart of delving. The miracle of Rooster is that despite all, his sense of right action guides his paw, yes, despite ‘himself’, whatever
that
might be! In Prime he has learned the techniques of delving, now in Terce he will begin to learn the sanctity of life; but he will not be a true Master until he knows himself.”

“He knows of the value of life at least, for I have taught it him myself. He knows my history, he knows of the savagery of his father Red Ratcher, he has learnt the gentle way. I know he rages, and fumes, but it is at himself and never at other mole.”

“Hmmph!” declared Gaunt. “He is as near to violence as any delver I have ever known. It is the dangerous thing in him, and no doubt it comes from Ratcher’s blood. I know not. But I know this: life is sacred. A Master of the Delve must never take it, never even think of taking it, or harming it. This Terce will begin to teach him, and None Chamber more so. But time is running out, and I fear for him. We must take him through all the five Chambers, you see, for then he will at least have glimpsed the ways in which he might master his natural wildness and savagery. Knowledge is all: the mastering can come later! I believe this is something Master Hilbert had to learn, and it was hard for him, very hard. Yet it is that very violence, or passion if you will, that makes a mole rise above the ordinary delver to
be
a Master.”

“You say there is little time, my love, and you frown and look away from me.”

Gaunt fell silent once again, staring sombrely before him, and occasionally squeezing Samphire’s paw, in a way she knew must mean that he was thinking of them both, and their relationship, and that something troubled him greatly. She waited in silence, knowing he would speak of it when he was ready.

“Samphire,” he began at last, “my Samphire. I never thought I would know such happiness, but if I had I would never have believed that I would be the one who had to end it.”

Samphire stiffened, suddenly much afraid.

“My love,” continued Gaunt, “when the time is right we must find a way of getting Rooster out of here. I shall not be able to come, but you —”

“I will not!”

“You must, my love. You are the only one of us with experience of the other side, the only one who can find a way for Hilbert’s prophecy to come true. If Rooster is a Master of the Delve he cannot, he must not, stay here. Moledom has need of him now, that is why the Stone sent him in our time. Through him our task shall be done. You must find a way of setting him free of the Charnel, you —”

“I cannot, I will not leave you, Gaunt!” said Samphire, hot tears coming from her eyes at the very thought of it.

“It must be,” said Gaunt gently. “Until then …”

“It will not be!”

“Hold me close, my dear,” said the ailing mole, “and let me tell you what being a Master of the Delve may mean for moledom. Against
that
burden our lives —”

“Our lives are as our love is, Gaunt, as valued by the Stone as all the Masters of this and Mistresses of that!”

Gaunt smiled at her passion, and nodded, wanting to agree.

“So tell me!” she said fiercely, holding him as if she would never ever let him go.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Rooster’s passage through the Chambers succeeding Prime moved apace as if he, like Gaunt, sensed that time was short and soon there would be none left.

While Glee remained with None, learning all manner of subsidiary skills to aid the delvers, and Humlock continued in Compline to learn to feel his way about by touch as, increasingly, he seemed to learn the meaning of the vibration of the delves, Rooster pressed on rapidly with the major delving skills. Prime had taught him the arts of the preparatory delve, of quarrying and scooping, and the rudiments of adapting present delves to harmonize with ancient forms that others had made before. He had always had a feeling for rock and stone, and now learnt to accommodate his delving to extant strata and rocks, and make the best of the exigencies of light.

In Terce he began to explore the subtle skills of tunnel formation, and appreciate how in a system of chambers, portals and tunnels a change in one part affects the balance through all the others, and as air flow changes so the nature and potential of sound, whether dark or light, changes as well.

As everymole knows, these are skills most learnt in only a rudimentary way, as much by absorption of the feel of their parents’ tunnels as from any direct instruction. Indeed, most moles do not begin to think of the Terce or the possible harmony of things until they venture forth from their home burrow and begin to make a life on their own account. But then they are too busy with survival, and with protecting their own young, to do more than repeat what they can remember, and make up the rest as best they can.

But under Terce, Rooster was forced to ponder the relationship of things, and working in the looser soil that lay nearer the bank of the Reap he created tunnel after tunnel which, having made them, he had progressively to fill in once more, thus learning to make and unmake. It was only slowly that he understood that it was in the unmaking, in the filling-in, that he learnt best what he had failed to do before; and that what a delver does not do is as important as what he does. A non-delve, if properly pondered and decided upon, is just as powerful in its effect as a delve.

But July seemed barely to have advanced into a sultry August before Terce suddenly announced that Gaunt had decreed that Rooster move on to None Chamber, which, despite his protestations that he had not yet learnt enough, he was forced to do. His humour was not helped by discovering that the mole assigned to teach him was not Senior Delver None, but ‘merely’ Glee. Both found the role embarrassing, and for the first time in their friendship they quarreled.

“It’s not my fault, Rooster,” said Glee acidly, staring up at him fiercely through angry, narrowed eyes, her white fur seeming almost to shine with fury, “and I don’t like it any more than you do. Everymole knows you’re a real delver and I’m not much more than a helper;
and
I don’t pretend to be! But if None says I’ve got to show you how things are done round here then you can at least make it easier for me, instead of glowering and grumbling and making me feel
terrible
.”

“Want to
delve
,” said Rooster, “not this …”

He had discovered that the delving in None was of a delicate kind, and by the standards of robust Prime and conceptual Terce its practitioners were somewhat airy-fairy in their activity, talking and joking, only occasionally making a dabbing delve in their half-hearted way (as it seemed to him) at the walls of the Chamber, and its light, simple tunnels.

“
This
,” said Glee, “is
fun
. We’re happy moles here. We enjoy life. We make friends of the soil, not carve it up like you’re inclined to, and —”

“I —”

“… and what’s more, I don’t
believe
you can do half the things None can, despite her handicaps.”

“She’s fat.”

“But her talons are delicate. Look at yours! Stumpy! Even stumpier than Humlock’s. You’d have to work hard to achieve anything here with those.”

“Not working with you —”

“Huh! If I know None that’ll mean you won’t work at all. Stop being so proud, Rooster, in fact I suggest …”

As she went on and on at him, None and her fellow-delvers listened with a combination of surprise and amusement. Rooster’s coming had been much heralded, and Gaunt’s suggestion that it be Glee who tutored him at first was a considerable puzzlement to everymole.

“Trouble?” said a quiet voice.

How was it that Gaunt contrived to arrive at moments of crisis and drama in Rooster’s life?

Rooster turned and stared at the artful Mentor, who seemed to know how to make him work, and when to drive him on. Rooster no longer hated him, nor feared him, but rather, felt awe and a kind of sinking dread that Gaunt was always ahead of him and understood him better than he did himself.

“She can’t delve,” he said now, though with sinking heart. He had the feeling that Gaunt had expected this response.

Gaunt nodded slowly. “No, mole, Glee is not a delver as you are. But she has another talent, and one you will do well not to underestimate. She is a helper, a facilitator.”

“Don’t know what that is,” said Rooster.

“Quite so,” said Gaunt. “You had best learn to know that though moles may not have your skills they may yet have much to teach you. Glee has won the admiration and respect of None. Your delving task in this Chamber is to learn why, Rooster: do that and it will be sufficient in the limited time we can allow you here. Watch, listen, respect, obey, and always remember that delving comes from the heart and not the paws, and to master its arts you must learn to listen and be humble with allmole. Therefore, follow Glee without complaint and learn all you can from her.”

Rooster did no more than growl.

Gaunt gave him a sympathetic smile.

“Come on, mole, ’tis not so hard to forget your pride with a mole you love.”

“Love?” said Rooster, staring uncomfortably at Glee, and her pale fur, her sharp black eyes, and her small compact body with its pink snout.

Glee grinned and nodded. “Course you do, Rooster, you and me and Humlock are friends and that’s the same as love. None said that. Love’s a
good
word for what we’ve got.”

“Hmmph!” said Rooster.

“Leave him to me, Mentor Gaunt, he’s not half as fierce as he looks; in fact he’s not even one quarter or an eighth as fierce as that.”

“Could be twenty times more,” growled Rooster.

“Then let Glee teach you not to be,” said Gaunt amiably. “The sanctity of life! That’s the joy of None. A delver makes and does not destroy, never ever. Glee will lead you towards that, won’t you, my dear?”

“Will I?” said Glee archly, glancing affectionately at Rooster. “If he stops grumbling I might!”

Rooster did stop grumbling, and having learnt the lesson that Gaunt wished him to learn he began to see anew the wonders of the None Chamber, where the light was bright, the day always promising, and the best delves the simplest and lightest, like a mole’s laughter on a summer morning when the darkness of preceding night and the greys of early dawn have fled, and the deeper hues of the day and coming dusk of Sext and Compline have yet to be.