Noman (7 page)

"They were in my way. I had to find—I have to find—they were getting away."

"The men carrying the litters?"

"Yes! Have you seen them?"

"They were heading north. To the coast."

"How can I find them?"

"I can track them for you," said Echo.

"Then, guide me!" cried Seeker. "Quickly!"

Echo gave a long high whistle, and Kell came trotting through the trees. She swung herself up onto his back and rode to Seeker's side. She made her decision without a moment's hesitation. Seeker had fascinated her ever since their first meeting, when he had refused to help her, saying, "You have your duty and I have mine."

She held out one hand.

"Ride with me."

Cheerful Giver came to a stop at the northern end of the forest road and pointed triumphantly through the trees ahead.

"There it is! The Haven!"

The forest ended where the heavy soil gave way to the sand dunes of the coast. The road continued a little way farther to its most northerly point, a spit of land from which a long timber causeway reached out to a small island. This island was surrounded by a high rampart, and its only entrance, the causeway gate, was guarded by armed men. In these troubled times it had become necessary for the richer citizens of the old empire to find places of refuge where they and their families could live in safety; and nowhere was as safe as the island called the Haven.

Cheerful Giver, his wife, Blessing, and his two sons had been travelling on foot for two days to get here. Now that the island was at last in sight they paused for a muchneeded rest. Cheerful Giver mopped the sweat from his scarlet face and spread his long winter coat wide to let the coastal breeze cool his body.

"Our troubles are over," he said to his wife. "A new life in a new home."

Blessing sighed. She had announced after the disaster had struck Radiance that she would never be happy again. Her one remaining satisfaction lay in each new proof that she was right.

"It's horrible," said their eldest son, scowling at the bleak coast. "All sand."

"We're not there yet, son," said Cheerful Giver, keeping his tone light even though he felt like smacking the boy's ears. "Can't say that yet."

"Can," said the boy. "Have."

"Well, yes, you have said it. But you don't actually know what it'll be like till you see it."

"Yes, I do," said the boy. "It'll be horrible."

Two men came pounding down the road out of the forest, carrying a litter. Their coats flapped as they passed, and the white cloth covering the litter flapped. Behind them came another two men with another litter, its cover flapping in its turn. They passed, onto the causeway, and boomed over the planks to the closed gate in the island's protective wall. The guards opened the gate for them, and so they disappeared into the Haven.

"Dead people," said Blessing, giving vent to a shrill little laugh. "I suppose it's to be expected. We're to live on an island of dead people."

"I should think not!" cried Cheerful Giver, mopping the sweat from his cheeks. "Dead people don't pay these kinds of prices."

The Haven was indeed the most expensive refuge of its kind, a fact that Cheerful Giver found reassuring. His former life was in ruins, his house overrun by thieves, his oil presses smashed, his sunflower fields gone to weed. But his chest of gold shillings had never been found, and the coins were even now hanging heavy in the lining of his winter coat. He had worn the coat throughout the blazing summer days of their journey. The heat had been unbearable, and the weight insupportable; but he had struggled on for the sake of his family. He had reflected from time to time with bitterness on how little gratitude they showed, no gratitude at all, to be exact; but in time he had found he experienced a curious satisfaction in suffering so much for so little return. The startling unfairness of his lot had become for him a badge of merit, and he found in his bitterness an edge of sweetness.

"Come along," he said, resuming their journey. "Almost there."

***

Echo and Seeker rode out of the trees, following the forest track, onto the coast road. There ahead lay the undulating sand dunes leading to the seashore. The salt smell of the sea hung in the hot summer air, and they could hear the ripple and hiss of the waves.

Echo studied the marks in the sandy track with care. Then she pointed down the road to the causeway at the far end and to the fortified island to which it led.

"They went there."

"You're certain?" said Seeker, staring at the distant island.

"I'm certain."

Seeker slipped down from Kell's back and began to walk down the road, scanning the details of the island's wall and gate.

"Nowhere left for them to run," he said.

Echo followed on Kell, marvelling at him. She felt his utter concentration and his urgency. He was like an arrow in flight. Nothing deflected him from his goal.

"Who are they?" she asked.

"An old woman. An old man."

"Old people? What do you want with them?"

"To finish what I've begun."

He never looked at Echo once. He had no interest in her. She had briefly been a means to his end, no more. Echo found this indifference refreshing. His drive and certainty infected her, whether he meant it to or not. He seemed to her to be launched on a mission that was greater than himself; and she wanted that, too.

There has to be more.

"Don't follow me," he said. "You could get hurt."

With that, he set off down the road to the island.

Just ahead there was a roadside barn, a long building with low-hanging eaves. Here Echo dismounted and found shade. She watched, her eyes straining against the bright light, as the distant figure approached the causeway. Sounds came from the other side of the barn wall, soft whimpering sounds, followed by low sobbing.

"Who's there?" she called.

C
HEERFUL
G
IVER AND HIS FAMILY PASSED THROUGH THE
second set of security gates and were greeted by a squareshaped man with a flat head and tiny but piercing eyes.

"Company manager," he said. "Name's Pelican. Welcome to the Haven."

Before them lay a wide-open space in which teams of laborers were hard at work in the noonday heat. On all sides were houses in various stages of being built, and between the building sites snaked long lines of men and women silently performing repetitive tasks. Some were hauling stones, some were carrying timbers. Most were passing baskets of soil from hand to hand in one direction, and buckets of mortar back in the other.

"What you see before you," said Pelican, "is Phase Two of the Haven. By next spring the work will be complete. The grass will be seeded. This will be a charming neighborhood. Children will play on spreading lawns. Their parents will sit in the shade of a cool terrace, served their drinks by well-trained servants, looking forward to an excellent dinner prepared by the best chefs. And all walled, gated, and guarded. Security guaranteed."

"Dusty," complained Cheerful Giver's youngest son.

"Horrible," said his brother.

"I can't imagine where they find the servants," said Blessing.

"No need to worry about that," said Pelican. "All company staff are polite, obedient, and clean. Perhaps you've already noticed that even our building workers are clean."

"They are clean," admitted Blessing.

"When they come to us, they're little better than animals. Filthy, starving, in rags. The company gives them new clothes, new purpose, new pride."

As they watched, one of the workers stumbled under his load of earth and spilled it. A supervisor pulled him to his feet.

"Pick it up! Keep the line moving!"

"How much are they paid?" asked Cheerful Giver.

"The company gives them life," said Pelican. "Who can put a price on life?"

"So, no actual cash money?"

"What use is money to them? Prices rise. Shops are burned. Bandits steal. No, sir, the company repays its workers by giving them what is far more precious—self-respect."

"Please don't think I'm criticizing," said Cheerful Giver. "I've been an employer myself, on a large scale, too. I've always suspected that forced labor is the answer."

"Not forced labor, sir." Pelican looked pained. "Structured labor."

He led them through the building site to the inner part of the island. Here the work had been completed, and a number of large handsome houses stood on a grid of neatly raked gravel paths. Beyond them, on the island's far shore, rose a squat windowless tower built of dark stone blocks.

"And here we have Phase One," said Pelican.

This inner region presented a charming scene to the weary visitors. All was calm and still but for the coming and going of a number of small children carrying watering cans or rakes.

"You see, my dear," said Cheerful Giver approvingly, "here are the happy children at play."

Pelican coughed, then addressed Blessing.

"You raised the question of servants, madam. The company has found its own original solution to the problem. We recruit and employ children between the ages of six and twelve. The company has found that children are better adapted to domestic tasks than their parents. And of course their parents are more naturally suited to the heavier building work."

Cheerful Giver's boys were intrigued.

"Look!" they cried. "They've got dog collars!"

"For training purposes," said Pelican.

He beckoned to a boy who was at work raking a gravel path. The boy dropped his rake and came at once. Pelican fingered the leather collar buckled round the boy's neck.

"You see here, at the back, an iron ring. During training, the junior help are kept on leads. You'll often hear people say that spiker children can't be taught. Not so. Keep them on a lead. Give clear, simple instructions. Beat them if they disobey. It really is as simple as that. A few weeks, and they can come off the lead. Eh, young fellow?"

He patted the boy on the head.

"Yes, sir," said the boy.

"Back to work, then."

The boy ran back to his rake.

"Dad!" cried Cheerful Giver's older son. "Can I have a spiker boy on a lead?"

Cheerful Giver was pleased. It was the first sign of enthusiasm his son had shown since they had left Radiance.

"I don't see why not," he said.

"And can I beat him?"

"If he's naughty."

"I want one, too!" cried his brother.

The two boys ran off to inspect the child with the rake. Cheerful Giver turned complacently to his wife.

"Well, my dear. I think you'll allow that life here could be bearable."

"Life must be borne, I suppose," said Blessing.

"The tower over there," said Cheerful Giver to Pelican, "what is its purpose?"

"Security within security," said Pelican. "The last redoubt. In event of emergency."

"Yeow!" shrieked one of the boys. "He hit me! Beat him! Put him on a lead! He hit me with his rake!"

"You poked him," said his brother.

"He hit me with his rake!"

The spiker child fell to his knees, sobbing and shaking. Pelican strode over to him and grabbed him by the shoulder.

"Please, sir, he poked my eye. I had to, sir. He was jabbing my eye."

Blessing clasped her son in her arms.

"Has he hurt you, darling? Show me where it hurts."

"I want to beat him! I want to see him cry!"

"He's crying already," said his brother.

"That's just snivelling. I want proper crying."

Cheerful Giver didn't want his son's newfound enthusiasm to fade.

"I know we've not yet made our payment," he said to Pelican, speaking low, "but I am in a position to proceed. Would my lad be allowed to beat the spiker boy on account, as you might say?"

Pelican tipped his head on one side to consider the proposition.

"On payment of the deposit," he said. "I don't mean to be difficult, but we do get people looking round the Haven, and when it comes to the point"—he smiled and opened an empty palm, to indicate the absence of money.

"Understood."

Cheerful Giver extracted some gold shillings from his heavy coat and pressed them into Pelican's hand.

"All I want is for my boy to be happy."

Pelican attached a lead to the spiker child's collar and handed the lead to Cheerful Giver.

"Give it to me!" cried Cheerful Giver's son. "I'm the one he hit, not you."

"Here you are, son," said Cheerful Giver hastily. "I was giving him to you."

"Get me a stick!"

Pelican volunteered his own staff.

"I'm going to drag him about a bit first. Then I'm going to beat him."

The spiker child shivered and whined.

"Please, sir. Won't do it again."

"Too bad! You hit me. Now you get a beating."

He gave a sharp jerk on the lead and the spiker child trotted, sobbing, after him.

A sharp cry sounded from the ramparts. A bell began to clang. Pelican looked round, suddenly alert.

"Intruder alarm," he said.

"Intruders!" cried Blessing.

"Nothing to fear. Walled, gated, and guarded. Security guaranteed."

"Can I go on with the beating?"

A creaking sound filled the air.

"The bolts! Look at the bolts!"

The bolts that secured the gates were bending. Some massive force was pushing at the gates from the far side.

"What—!"

The bolts snapped. The gates burst apart, slamming against the walls, kicking up a cloud of dust. Out of the dust stepped a lone unarmed man with staring eyes.

"Seize him!" cried Pelican.

The guards all broke into a run at the same time, converging on the lone figure.

He looked through them as they came, searching the area beyond them. They launched themselves at him as he strode forward, but somehow they missed him and found themselves striking at empty air. On he came, untouchable, unstoppable.

Pelican gaped in amazement. The building workers laid down their loads. Cheerful Giver's son let go of the spiker boy and began to howl.

"Make him stop! I don't like him!"

Seeker's sweeping gaze identified Pelican. He came to a stop before him and fixed him with his staring eyes.