Salt (9 page)

They entered the bush, found a dry safe place, ate the last of the grubs, drank the last water, and slept.

SIX

The mountains were dark and cold, and the passes high and the paths that climbed to them precipitous. On the warmer northern side the bush thickened to jungle. It oppressed Pearl. She had been happier in the clear air, even when the wind blew ice crystals in her face. It had taken six days of climbing to the final pass, broken by cold uncomfortable nights. Hari revelled in the hardship, while she gritted her teeth and plodded on. Sometimes she picked up the dog and carried him for an hour, holding him to share their warmth. The dog suffered, his feet grew raw, and Tealeaf made cloth boots for him, cut off her cloak. Cold, hungry, were his only thoughts, and Pearl, conversing with him, made images of hearths and fires and meat. She wanted meat for herself. The food Tealeaf had gathered in the bush on the southern hills – fruit, grubs, roots, edible leaves – was nourishing, she felt it in her blood, felt it strengthening her, but so much chewing was called for and so many bitter tastes had to be endured.

Hari ate without complaint. Food was something that had to be fought for, and grabbed at, and eaten fast. It was a luxury for him to be able to dip into the bag at his side, squeeze the poison out of a grub, bite off and spit out its head, and swallow it whole. When they reached the snow he killed a snow hare and they roasted it on a fire of ironwood twigs Tealeaf had made him carry for that purpose. It was their only meat, but they were in the snow for only two days and a night.

Their first view north of the mountains showed bare scree slopes, then dry hills, followed by jungles stretching away. Lakes shone like windows, while here and there loops of river curved as white as knife blades in the trees.

‘Where’s Deep Salt?’ Hari asked.

‘Do you see where the mountains turn westwards?’ Tealeaf said.

‘That far?’

‘The salt mines are at the seaward end, south from where I’m taking you. And Deep Salt –’ she grimaced – ‘lies deeper.’

‘So we’ve got to cross the jungle?’ Hari said.

‘There are ways,’ Tealeaf said. ‘But first, let’s get down out of this cold.’

Two more days brought them into hills, and another two into the jungle. Food became more plentiful and varied. They took fish from the rivers, nuts from the trees and seeds from the plants. Tealeaf mesmerised wild bees with a low monotonous humming while Pearl and Hari stole honey. They followed a river that tumbled through rapids then ran slow and lazy through trees whose plate-sized leaves dipped into the water. Biting flies attacked them, and Tealeaf made a toadstool paste and smeared it on their faces and arms to keep them off.

Soon the understorey grew more dense.

‘We’re being watched. Do you feel it?’ Tealeaf said.

‘It’s like someone brushing inside my head. Or brushing my hair the wrong way,’ Pearl said.

‘Are they dangerous?’ Hari said.

‘Not if we only take what we need. I spoke with them on the edge of the jungle while you were sleeping.’

‘Who are they? What do they look like?’

‘I said I spoke. I didn’t say I saw.’

‘We could send the dog to find them,’ Pearl said.

‘The dog would never come back. No one sees. They haven’t got a name, so we give them none. The jungle is theirs and always will be.’

‘It’s like being in the burrows. They could kill us,’ Hari said. He felt both helpless and aggressive.

‘They wouldn’t need to. They’d let the jungle do it. But Dwellers have never hurt them, so they let us pass.’

‘I wouldn’t have got through on my own,’ Hari said.

He crouched closer to the fire and threw another branch on. The new flames made Tealeaf’s face shine red. She had begun to seem stranger since they had entered the jungle: her three-fingered hands, performing their tasks, were more dextrous – they moved so fast Hari thought of the shimmering wings of the bees whose honey they had robbed – and her eyes had turned a jungle green. She talked less with her tongue and more with a ‘voice’ that penetrated Hari like a thin silver-bladed knife. He wondered if she was letting him know that, in a way, he belonged to her. She was wrong about that, and he would show her when the time was right.

‘There are creatures that hunt in the night. And the daytime too. So don’t even think about running away,’ Tealeaf said.

‘Why don’t they come, then? We’re an easy feed sitting here.’

If you stop speaking with your tongue and use your ‘voice’ you’ll hear why not. The jungle isn’t silent, it never is. Hear the hunting cries, far away?

Hari listened; and heard, far off, the scream of an animal dying. Closer, something roared with rage at not making the kill itself.

It’s a savage place, Tealeaf said.

‘Why don’t they come for us?’ Pearl whispered.

Hush, Pearl. Listen. Listen, Hari.

The jungle continued its night-bird cries and tree-animal whoopings, but underneath these sounds a softer, more delicate one, monotonous, almost unheard, slowly established itself.

Do you hear? Tealeaf said. It began when we entered the jungle and won’t stop till we leave.

What is it? they whispered.

The people with no name. They’ve woven a circle around us to keep us safe. They know the pitch of sound that keeps each animal away. They’re protecting us.

Why?

It’s part of their pact with Dwellers. I asked if we could travel through, and they agreed.

Sshh, Pearl said. She listened to the soft bee-note surrounding them. It’s like music.

The tree tiger doesn’t think so. Nor does the night bear.

Nor does the dog. That’s why you tied that cloth around his head, Hari said.

Yes, the dog’s unhappy. But it won’t last.

‘You’ve got too many secrets,’ Hari said. ‘I’m going to sleep. Wake me if these people we can’t see stop singing. I’ve still got my knife.’

He pulled the dog close to him and lay down by the fire.

Pearl moved closer to Tealeaf. She longed for the times when Tealeaf had brushed and plaited her hair and helped her dress – and when, in private, they had sat down and talked, talked aloud and then in silence, and been no longer mistress and servant but two people sharing equally. She missed the lessons, the thrill of learning things no one else in the city knew. Now Tealeaf seemed to be moving away – although she had told them about the people with no name. But that had been to stop Hari behaving stupidly.

Tealeaf’s voice came whispering silently into her mind: Trust me, Pearl.

Are we still friends?

More than ever. More than you can know.

It’s like he says: you’ve got too many secrets.

Soon, Pearl, as soon as we’re out of the jungle and you’ve met my people . . .

Met other Dwellers?

Yes. When we come out of these black trees into the green . . .

Do you live there?

I used to, in a village called Stone Creek. I’ve got so much to think about, Pearl, that’s why I’ve gone away from you. And I’ve got to watch Hari or he’ll do something stupid. She smiled and touched Pearl’s hand. Go to sleep now. Tomorrow’s hard work. We travel on the river.

I like hard work. It’s better than eiderdowns and perfumes and sweetmeats.

Tealeaf laughed, a clear sound competing with the cruel noises of the jungle. She touched Pearl’s hand again.

‘Go to sleep.’

The spoken words were more comforting than silent ones. Pearl wrapped herself in her cloak and lay down by the fire, opposite Hari. His unwashed smell still troubled her, but she supposed she was starting to smell the same herself. It made her frown, then almost laugh. She went to sleep.

Tealeaf put more wood on the fire, then slept a while herself, sitting up; and woke and fed the fire again, and waited; and after an hour, in the darkest time of the night, her face altered, grew entranced as something, some thing, with a silent voice, spoke to her. If Pearl had woken then she would not have known Tealeaf – but Pearl did not wake. She was having her own dream. It was not of people or animals or places, and there was neither then or now. It took her deep into itself, while speaking no word but her name. It told her its own name, which Pearl did not understand, except that somehow it meant all things, everywhere, and it told her, without saying, that a door was open and she could enter when she chose.

She did not wake at the end of the dream. She slept more deeply. She did not remember it or forget. It stayed inside her. When she woke in the morning she was different but did not know why, or why the first thought she had was: I am Pearl.

Tealeaf was different too; was strengthened and less brooding, as though she had shaken off a sickness. She moved more lightly and her face, always fine boned and hollow cheeked, seemed more full. Yet when she noticed Pearl staring into the jungle she grew still, and took a step away as if to study her, and after a moment she made a dipping motion with her head, and a sigh of contentment, and said to Pearl: Did you sleep well?

When Pearl replied: I had dreams but I can’t remember what they were, she laughed and said: ‘Eat some grubs, then. We’d better get started.’ But she hummed a tune Pearl had never heard before as she prepared the food.

Hari, meanwhile, was ready to go. He thought of little but Deep Salt and his father. The sounds of the people with no name, present intermittently in the jungle, made him frown. He was used to fighting his own battles and did not like depending on other people, especially when he couldn’t see them.

They travelled through the understorey, breaking their way, and came to a river at mid-morning. A dugout canoe, shallow and broad, was waiting on a stony beach. They paddled for the rest of the day, slept on the bank at night – eating fish, boiling river water – and went on the next morning until falls forced them to leave the canoe.

Back deep in the jungle at night, they crouched around their fire and listened to the noises of hunting animals and the encircling humming that kept them safe. Hari remembered how, looking from the mountains, he had seen the jungle stretching to another range in the north, but going on and on in the east in a widening valley until it was lost in a haze. And Tealeaf had said that it stretched beyond that as if forever. It made him shiver and long for the world he knew, of ruined buildings and tottering walls, where the most dangerous thing was a king rat or a pack of starving dogs. He could hear a voice speaking in this jungle. He did not think it spoke to him. Perhaps it was the voice Lo heard when the curtain lifted. But Lo seemed far away and the jungle seemed to emphasise that he had known very little. And Hari wanted to know little himself – not what Pearl knew, with her changed face and air of waiting, or Tealeaf, who was different because she was a Dweller; he wanted only to perfect his skill in speaking and, more importantly, in controlling, so he could use them to find his father. The only other thing he needed to know was the meaning of his dream – that dream of violence and peace. What had it instructed him to do as he lay asleep after his first encounter with Pearl? And how did it help in his search for his father?

SEVEN

Tealeaf’s village, Stone Creek, disappointed Pearl. She had expected buildings with fantastic shapes, but everything was simple and unadorned. Small houses with timber walls lined the streets. Beyond them the sea gleamed. Half a dozen wooden boats, big enough for two or three people, were drawn up on a white-sand beach between low headlands. Their shipped oars poked out like insect legs.

‘It’s tiny,’ she complained.

‘It’s as big as it needs to be,’ Tealeaf answered.

‘You could fit this place in People’s Square,’ Hari said. But he had little interest. He wanted to eat, and then he wanted to know where Deep Salt was. ‘Do they know we’re coming?’

‘We’re expected. We’ll go to my brother’s house. Tomorrow you can meet our council and ask your questions. You too, Pearl. All your questions.’

‘Do we speak out loud?’

‘Whatever you’re comfortable with.’

They walked along cobbled streets until they reached a footway above the foreshore. Tealeaf turned past houses facing the sea, where lamps were being lit as the sun went down. People opened doors and windows and greeted them. Tealeaf’s face lit up with pleasure, and Pearl guessed that messages she could not hear must be reaching her – of welcome home, of love perhaps – and something she’d never thought of suddenly struck her.

Tealeaf, she whispered, are you married?

No, Pearl. There were other things I chose to do.

Like finding me, Pearl said, and was guilty and sad. She felt sadness in Tealeaf too, and knew there had been someone she had loved and would have married if she had not chosen another way. Or perhaps she hadn’t chosen; perhaps she had been told or ordered, and had obeyed.

No, Pearl, it wasn’t like that, Tealeaf said.

Was there someone?

Yes.

Where is he?

It seemed for a moment Tealeaf wouldn’t answer. Then she said: He has a wife now, and children. He’s happy. And I’m happy. So don’t be sad for me.

You’re sad for yourself.

‘Oh,’ Tealeaf said, ‘it’s natural. Now here’s my brother’s house, and here is Sartok, my brother.’

Tealeaf embraced the tall Dweller at the door, and Pearl heard, Hari heard too, in an almost bee-like humming in their minds – a sound like flowers, Pearl thought, a sound like honey – the depth of their brother and sister love and their delight in seeing each other again. Children crowded round Sartok’s legs, and his wife, Eentel, slipped under his arm to join the embrace. The greetings took a long time. Pearl waited patiently, and Hari impatiently, while the dog, at their heels, sniffed the warm aroma-laden air coming through the door.

At length Tealeaf said: Pearl, Hari, and the two heard a welcome, grave and formal, from Sartok and Eentel, and a chatter of interest from the children; and then they were inside a room where a table was laid and food spread out. Conversation, half spoken, half thought, eddied around them, drew them in. It was so natural and easy that they had laid down their packs and washed their hands and faces in basins of water on a side-table and dried them with cloths the children held out, and were sitting at the table eating soup and bread before they realised how much they were telling about their journey and their lives in the city. Pearl was astonished and appalled by Hari’s life as he described it – the squalid hall called Dorm, the fights between scavenging bands from different burrows, the hunting of rats for food, the doling out of meagre supplies from Company carts, just enough to keep the half-starved population alive, the raids by the Whips, the shackling and branding; and Hari, although he had spied at mansion windows many times, was disbelieving at first, then simmered with anger and contempt at the luxury and waste of the life Pearl had led. It was all new to Sartok and Eentel and their children (two boys, two girls) and Pearl could see how it saddened the adults. They comforted the children with words and touches when Hari’s story made them afraid.

The meal went on with a dish of meat and vegetables – the dog, by Hari’s chair, got his share – followed by sweet dumplings and fruit, and mugs of tea.

You’re tired, Pearl, Tealeaf said.

Yes, she replied, and felt the whole weight of her escape from her family and the city, the days, the weeks of walking, and the fear of recapture, the fear of strangeness, come down on her mind like a hand squashing an inflated bladder. She wanted to put her head on the table and sleep. Yet there was something sliding out from under the weight – something light and coloured and on the edge of sight, made of the dreams she had had on their journey and the voices she had heard in the jungle, and of a single voice, scarcely a breath, even further away, saying her name, saying: Pearl. Where was it from? What did it mean? And had she heard it or only imagined that she heard?

I’m tired, she thought. Tealeaf is right.

Hari, you need to sleep too, Tealeaf said.

‘Yes, I do,’ Hari said grudgingly. He had enjoyed the food, had torn at it at first and gobbled it, then seen that the others were slower and had ways that he supposed were the manners Pearl had told him he didn’t have, so he slowed down and watched and learned. It wasn’t important, but he needed these people – if they were people – to show him the way to Deep Salt, so for a while he would do things in their way. But Tealeaf was right: he was tired, he needed sleep, he needed to be fresh in the morning. He felt too that in describing his life in Blood Burrow he had drawn it together, held it in his hand, and that when he went back to the city he would know how to change everything. He was surprised. Am I going back? He had not known it. All he had known was that he must rescue his father. But now . . .

I’ll push Company off the cliff into the sea, he thought.

Tealeaf took Pearl first, then Hari, through a back yard, where they stripped off their clothes and washed at a trough of warm water in a steam room. Hari did not know what he was meant to do. He had never washed in his life. The oldest boy, Antok, showed him how to use soap. The suds turned grey with the dirt on Hari’s body, and Antok sluiced them off with buckets of water. Hari itched. The dog slunk off and hid behind the shed but came inside to sleep in the warmth when the washing was over.

They found fresh clothes laid out in their sleeping cells. Tealeaf took away the old ones, torn and stained from the jungle, to be burned.

Pearl slept, Hari slept, both dreamless.

In the morning they ate a breakfast of grain softened in milk and cooked with dried fruit. This was followed by eggs and bread. New food for Hari. He had never seen an egg. New food for Pearl too, who had never been offered anything so simple – except muggy grubs. Well fed, comfortable in their new clothes, they walked along the foreshore with Tealeaf and Sartok until they came to a small house beside a creek emptying into the sea.

‘This is where our council meets today. At other times it’s in other houses. Or nowhere at all.’

‘You mean you meet without talking if you want to?’

‘Yes, sometimes. Other times it’s good to see faces.’

‘What’s the council?’ Hari said.

‘Anyone who wants to speak or hear. I told most people about you last night, while you were sleeping. Who you are. Where you come from.’

‘And where we’re going? Where I’m going?’ Hari said.

‘Yes, Hari. Shall we go in?’

There were only three people in the house: an old man, a middle-aged woman and a boy. They welcomed Pearl and Hari formally, which set Hari on edge. Too much of this. He was used to quickness, seeing quickly, getting away fast. Pearl handled it better, saying how pleased they were to be in the village and to be made so welcome. The old man, Gantok, the woman, Teelar, listened politely, but the boy, watching Hari, seemed impatient. His name was Danatok. He sat down in a chair at a table almost filling the room and said silently: Hari, sit by me. I want to know about your father.

They took him to Deep Salt, Hari said. I’m going to get him.

What sort of man is he?

He’s the best hunter in Blood Burrow. The best fighter. He’s killed more king rats than anyone else.

King rats? They’re big? As big as your dog? Danatok said.

Some are bigger. But my father kills them.

For food?

The big ones are tough. The young ones are tender. Good meat.

Is that his knife you’re wearing?

Hari took it from its sheath and laid it on the table but kept his hand on it jealously.

A Dweller knife, said the old man, Gantok, peering at it. He too spoke silently. Hari, will you let me hold it for a moment?

Hari lifted his hand reluctantly and Gantok, with a small gesture of thanks, picked the knife up.

Ah, see how my hand fits. If your father learned to use this, he’s kin in his heart with Dwellers.

I’ve learned it too, Hari said.

It is black steel, forged in the villages of the north. See the mark on the blade, two round stones rubbing together? Sunderlok’s mark, the great traveller. It was made for him many years ago. He came through our village in my father’s time, on his way to visit your city, Hari, and find out what was happening there. It was in the time of the man called Cowl, when he had made himself king. Sunderlok never returned. The great war started, when Company came back. Sunderlok died. Even so far away we heard the pain of his death. And this is his knife.

He laid it on the table. Yours, Hari.

My father found it in Blood Burrow, lying in the corner of a room.

Perhaps it was meant for him. I can feel from the way it trembles that it has killed men. It was not forged for that.

You have to kill where I come from, or else you get killed. I can’t feel it trembling.

Your knife, Gantok repeated. Use it as you must.

Hari sheathed the knife. These people don’t know anything, he thought. But he remembered his conflicting dreams, of peace and slaughter, and grew confused. He wanted to know where he must go to find his father and what to do when he got there.

Is someone going to tell me about Deep Salt, he said.

First, Pearl said, I want to know why Tealeaf brought us here. And why she chose me. Tealeaf, you promised to tell us.

No, Hari said, Deep Salt first. Then I can go, and you can sit here listening if you want to.

You can’t go yet. Not today. Not even tomorrow, the woman, Teelar, said.

Why not?

Because the one who guides you isn’t ready.

I don’t need a guide. Just tell me where.

Hari, Tealeaf said, don’t be impatient. There’s no way you can reach Deep Salt by yourself.

Why? Is it far?

Not far. Two days’ travel. But – there are difficulties. And only one guide knows the way.

Who is he? The guide?

He’s sitting beside you.

My son, Danatok, Teelar said. And it’s too soon for him to go.

Him? Hari said with disdain. He’s too small. Can he fight?

There will be no fighting.

Hari, listen, Tealeaf said. And be still. And think a while before you speak.

Her voice in his head pushed him back into himself, away from the dartings of his brain that carried him into fear and impatience, and contempt for these Dwellers, and into his love for his father, so that he seemed broken into pieces. He subsided.

‘All right,’ he said aloud.

There have only ever been two or three Dwellers able to find the way into Deep Salt and come out alive. Danatok is one; the only other is too old and sick now. They can’t go far, only far enough to see the edge of the light that fills the mine. They have to stop and find the name of one who can hear . . .

One?

One of the workers in Deep Salt. There are few who can. But when there is one, the guide can call him.

Could you speak with your father, the way we speak? Danatok said.

No, Hari said. Not like I can with horses and Tealeaf and Pearl. But sometimes Tarl seemed to hear and something came back, like a kind of whisper.

It might be enough.

Why can’t we go now?

Because Danatok isn’t well enough from last time, when he brought out one who died. He’s still sick from the light and musn’t go yet, Teelar said.

Mother, Danatok said, it is passing. I feel it leave. I’ll be all right. And this man Tarl – he hasn’t been there long, only a few days, and if I can bring him out he has a chance. He mightn’t die.

Do they all die? The ones you save? Hari said.

Yes, sooner or later. The sickness from the light they work in wastes them away.

Why do you save them, then?

So they can die peacefully, not as slaves, Gantok said. It’s all we can do. But we have few guides. Only Danatok now.

How many have you brought out? Pearl said.

Not many. Nine. Ten. Tarl will be eleven, if I can find him.

What about all the others sent to work there? No one ever comes back from Deep Salt, Hari said.

They wander away when the sickness becomes too great. They lie down in the caves and die.

And you get sick too?

My son recovers, Teelar said. But he mustn’t go into the light. Or go too often. Or too soon.

When? Hari said.

Not tomorrow. The morning after, Tealeaf said.

How?

By boat. But now, we’ve promised Pearl an answer to her questions.

Can I go with Hari to save his father? Pearl said. She was filled with shame that her people, Company, sent slaves to work in Deep Salt, where they died. She must be no part of it, and helping Hari find his father seemed a way of showing where she stood.

All the same, she was relieved when Tealeaf said: No, Pearl. The more who go, the greater the danger. And there’s only room in the boat for two and the one they save. Hari and Danatok will be gone for five days. You’ll stay with me. There are things I want to teach you in that time.

Then start now. Tell me why you brought me here.

It’s a simple story, Pearl, but not easy to understand. First you have to know who Dwellers are. Gantok tells it best. Listen . . .

The old Dweller composed his face, self-importantly Pearl thought, like her father whenever he had anything to say. Then his voice strode into the silence as though he were singing: The land is vast, the sea is vast, they breathe the air we breathe. There is no this thing and that thing, Pearl and Hari. All is one. Land, air, water, wind and sky, plants that spring from soil and rock, animals in the forest, fish in the sea, birds in the air, and humans in all their different colours and shapes. This is all we know, a simple thing and enough, which every child understands as soon as he is born. You, Hari, knew it, and you Pearl, but have forgotten. Unless the knowledge is taken with first breath and drunk thereafter with mother’s milk . . .