The Kin (32 page)

On the sixth night she bound herself round with tingin bark and slept. The tingin bark held her safe
.

Falu dreamed. Parrot came to her in her dream and said, “Falu, you are my nestling. I brood over you. I bring you sweet fruits. I give you Tov for your mate. Go where he goes.”

Falu woke in the morning. She looked at her arms
,
and they were wings. She looked at her fingers, and they were the grey feathers of the wing tips
.

Her chin itched. She scratched it with her foot. She looked at the foot, and it was the foot of a bird
.

She opened her mouth and sang. Her voice was the voice of a parrot
.

Falu said in her heart, This is good. I go where Tov goes. He does not know me
.

CHAPTER THREE

There was no food left where they were, so next day they moved on north. To search a wider area the Porcupines stayed on the east side of the river and the Moonhawks crossed to the west. It was hard going. The land became more and more like true desert. The trees along the river that used to be green all year were mostly leafless and dead. Water was hard to find, even when they dug in the riverbed, and they were lucky if they each got a few mouthfuls of food a day.

For several days they moved on like that. Hunger seemed to follow Ko like his own shadow. He was hungry even in his dreams. Soon he was thirsty too. They could smell the water trickling below the riverbed, but when they dug down they found almost none there. They sucked pebbles and chewed dry sticks to give their mouths something to do.

The women were very anxious about the babies, both Bodu's little Ogad and Noli's unborn child. Was Bodu getting enough food to make good milk? Was Noli getting enough to make the baby grow inside her? Would she have milk to feed it when it was born? They gave the two mothers everything they could spare, but it wasn't really enough.

The men were worried too. Ko heard some of them talking together one evening after they'd had a stroke of luck and found a patch of good gourds, the sort that would hold water for several moons without going soft, once they'd been well salted and smoked. The men were working at this, while the women prepared the scraps of food that had been found.

“We use all the salt,” said Var. “It is gone. Now we go far and far. Do we find more salt? Do we find cutter stones? Do we find tingin trees?”

He spoke gloomily. Var was like that, but this time the other men grunted in agreement. These were all things that people used every day. You couldn't make a good digging stick without a cutter, or loops to carry a gourd without tingin bark, and salt was useful for preventing meat from rotting and for making food taste better. But all these things were scarce, too. You could go many days' journey without finding them.

“There is a salt pan out there,” said Net, jumping up and pointing west, as if he was ready to start out that moment. “Yova found it. It has no name.”

“It is too far,” said Tun. “There is no food there. No Good Place. Not any more. It is gone.”

Ko knew what they were talking about. He could just remember the times before the rains had begun to fail, when they'd been able to roam over a much wider tract of land, going from one Good Place to another. Now all the Good Places had been swallowed up by the desert.

He stopped listening to the talk and started on a dream in which he, Ko, sneaked off secretly into the dark, travelling by the light of the moon, and after several good adventures reached the salt pan Yova had found and dug out a slab of wonderful white salt, the best sort, so white that it glittered in the moonlight. Then he journeyed home with it and sneaked into the camp while the others still slept, and when they woke in the morning they found it by the embers of the fire and couldn't imagine how it came there. And then he, Ko, told them.

It was a good dream. Ko was still working on it when they all lay down to sleep.

The next few days were worse. The river split up into a maze of smaller rivers, all now dry, separated by islands and mudbanks and immense tangles of dead reed, the kind of dangerous, useless territory that the Kin called demon places. Somewhere over on the far side were the Porcupines—there'd been no sign of them for several days and they were now quite out of reach.

Water was still hard to find. Sometimes they had to wait all morning before they could move on, while a few of the adults fought their way through with the empty gourds and came back with the stinking, muddy liquid.

Several people fell sick. Mana was the worst. She staggered, so that Ko had to put his arm round her and help her along. And she was hot and cold by turns and babbled about things that weren't there.

And then Cal was stung on the foot by a scorpion. His whole leg swelled up. He was a brave man, but he howled and wept with the pain of it and they thought he was going to die. But by next morning the pain and the swelling were almost gone, and then the leg shrivelled to a stick, so that he walked with a heavy limp.

Ko didn't go to search for water of course. He tried a couple of dreams about doing so, but the demons got into them, and they scared him.

They reached the main marshes very weak and depressed. This was as far as any of them had ever been, even before the rains had failed. They halted at the top of a low rise and looked north.

It was evening, and beyond the first few tens of paces everything was hidden under a strange haze, golden with the light of the setting sun. It didn't seem to be very dense. Ko could see the first few mudbanks and reed patches clearly enough, but then they became vague, blurred shapes, and then vanished completely. There was no sign of a pathway, and it was too late to explore, so they made camp and slept.

When they woke in the morning the haze had cleared, and they could see what they were in for.

The marshes were demon places, too. Ko hadn't known what to expect, so he'd made them up in his mind, mudbanks and tall green reeds with patches of clear water between them. The reeds were there, a vast brown tangle. The mud was there, dried and cracked. There was no water. Insects swarmed out of the reeds and gathered around the newcomers. Ko couldn't see how far the marsh stretched, but beyond it, almost as blue as the glaring blue sky, he could see a wavering line which he knew was distant hills.

Suth pointed.

“We go there,” he said. “See, it rains. We find Good Places there.”

Ko looked, and yes, in the far distance he could see two separate dark masses of raincloud blurring the horizon.

“Suth, we cannot cross the marsh,” said Bodu.

She spoke dismally. Usually she was cheerful. Ko liked her. She laughed at him sometimes, but she didn't make it sound jeering or scornful—she just liked to laugh. But she was worried about her baby, Ogad, who wasn't yet three moons old. He was very thin and fretful, because she hadn't enough milk to give him. If she didn't find better food soon, Ogad would die.

Ko longed to comfort her. As usual he spoke before he thought.

“I find a way through the marshes,” he said. “I, Ko, do this.”

Behind him someone laughed and he swung round. It was Nar, not trying to hide his smile. Ko took a pace towards him and stuck his chin out. He felt his scalp stir as it tried to make his hair bush out, though he'd have to be a man before that would happen so that anyone could see.

“I, Ko, speak, Nar,” he snapped. “I find the way through the marshes. Does Nar say
No
to me?”

Nar wasn't impressed. His smile widened.

“You do this, Ko,” he said. “Then I give you a gift.”

“What gift, Nar?”

Ko was really angry. He thought he could feel his hair actually moving a little.

“You ask, I give,” said Nar carelessly, making it yet more obvious he was sure Ko couldn't do what he'd promised. All this was man stuff, the sort of words Var and Kern might have used in an argument. The boys copied the men, of course. For them it was a kind of game. Ko could see that was how Nar was treating it this time.

Ko wasn't. He looked round and saw a boulder jutting up out of the ground a few paces behind Nar.

“Come,” he said, and marched over to it, not looking to see if Nar followed.

He did, and he wasn't smiling now.

Ko laid his right hand on the boulder.

“This is the rock Odutu …” he began, but Nar interrupted him.

“Ko, I take back my words,” he said.

“You say I, Ko, find the way through the marshes?”

“No, Ko,” said Nar quietly. “You do not do this thing. You do not try. It is dangerous, dangerous.”

But Ko was much too angry to listen, either to the words, or the way in which Nar had spoken them. He put his hand back on the rock.

“This is the rock Odutu, Odutu below the Mountain,” he said. “On Odutu I say this.
I
,
Ko, find the way through the marshes
.”

He stood back and waited. This was the strongest oath or challenge anyone knew. Odutu was a real place, a huge rock, far in the south of the Old Good Places, standing at the foot of the mountain where the First Ones lived. Ko had been taken there when he was a small one, but he didn't remember. All he knew was an Oldtale, which said that an oath sworn at Odutu was an oath for ever. Since they were all now so far away from the real Odutu, any big rock would do almost as well, provided the right words were used.

Nar hesitated, sighed and shrugged. He put his hand on the boulder and muttered, “This rock is Odutu, Odutu below the Mountain. On Odutu I say this.
Ko finds the way through the marsh, then I give him a gift. Ko asks. I, Nar, give
.”

He looked at Ko and shook his head disapprovingly, but without saying a word went back and joined the others.

Ko followed. Nobody seemed to have noticed what they were up to. They were just a couple of boys doing boy stuff, and there was something more interesting happening in the other direction.

The solid ground ended in a low bank, and then the marsh began. Everyone was lined up along the bank watching someone—Net, of course; he always rushed into things—picking his way across a patch of dried mud between two tangles of reeds, moving a half pace at a time and testing the surface beneath each foot before he shifted his weight onto it. He was four or five paces from the bank when the surface gave way.

At once he was right in to his waist, but the sticky black mud seemed to be deeper than that, and he went on sinking as he floundered round and tried to wade back.

Soon he was up to his chest, struggling frantically for the bank but not getting any nearer. Everyone was shouting. The other men were down at the edge of the marsh, Tun giving orders.

Suth started to crawl out onto the mud. He was the lightest of the men. Now he lay on his belly and wormed his way forward, spreading his weight across the treacherous mud. Ko watched with his heart in his mouth.

As soon as Suth's feet were clear of the bank, Var knelt and gripped his ankles, and then as Suth moved further out Var too lay down and wormed after him, while Kern and Tor knelt and held Var's ankles. By the time Suth could grasp Net's wrists, Net was up to his neck, Suth and Var were well out on the mud, and Tor and Kern were kneeling and leaning out over it to keep hold of Var.

The angle was awkward. Neither of the two on solid ground could pull with any strength, and the two out on the mud didn't dare risk pulling at all. But now, without waiting for Tun to give the order, the women formed two lines, each woman with her arms round the one in front of her, and the two at the head of the lines gripping Tor and Kern round their waists.

Chogi called, and they heaved, all together. Suth and Var took the strain. Ko could see the muscles of their forearms bulging as they fought to keep their grip. Net stopped sinking. The women heaved rhythmically, Tun calling the time. It wasn't enough. Net remained stuck fast. Ko and Nar and the older children joined the ends of the lines and added their weight. Ko was well up the bank and could still see the men out on the mud.

The surface under Suth gave way but somehow he kept his hold, turning his head sideways to keep his nose and mouth clear while he floated on the filthy ooze.

The changed angle must have helped. Slowly, so slowly that Ko could hardly see it was happening, Var's feet were coming closer to the bank. The bodies of Tor and Kern were straightening. Net's shoulders were clear of the mud.

And then he came with a rush. The teams on the bank fell over backwards. By the time they were on their feet, Tor and Kern were hauling Var ashore and Suth and Net were slithering back over the surface. And then they were on firm ground, and everyone was crowding round them, shouting with triumph, and jeering at Net for his rashness, while they tried to scrape the stinking mud off their bodies.

But Ko stayed at the top of the bank, staring out over the marsh, with dismay in his heart.

Not that way, he thought. Not even in dreams.

Oldtale

GOGOLI

Tov went to Fon, his father's father. He was very old, and knew many things
.

Tov said, “Father of my father, old Fon, tell me this. Where is the lair of Fododo, Father of Snakes?”

Fon said, “Tov, son of my son, no man knows this. Only one knows this. He is Gogoli, the Jackal who Knows All Things.”

Tov said, “Where is Gogoli?”

Fon said, “He is here, he is there. But at little moon he drinks at the waterhole beyond Ramban. He does not drink, then he dies.”

Tov said, “I thank Fon, father of my father.”

Fon said, “Tov, son of my son, be lucky.”

Then Fon died. He was very old
.

Tov journeyed to Ramban. There he saw a parrot, a little grey parrot with yellow tail feathers. He said, “Why is this parrot here? Its place is at Dindijji, the place of dust trees. Surely Gata sends it. Her Kin is Parrot.”

He laughed. The parrot answered, and its voice was laughter
.