Under The Mountain

by Maurice Gee

The twins stopped at the gate. ‘Remember what Mum always says about strangers?’

  ‘He isn’t a stranger. He saved us. Besides, Aunt Noeline knows him.’

  They went up the path without fear and through the door Mr Jones held open for them. They found themselves in a kitchen that also seemed to serve as a living-room. It contained a sofa and an easy chair as well as a table and stove and fridge.

  ‘Welcome, children.’

  He spoke normally. ‘I’m glad we can meet properly at last.’

  He took them to the sofa and sat them down. Then he lowered himself into the chair. ‘I’m sorry I’ve been so long.’ His face was older than it had been when he had saved them, even older, it seemed, than it had been in the library and by the lake.

  Rachel smiled at him. ‘You look tired.’

  ‘I am, young lady.’

  ‘We’ll make you a cup of tea.’

  ‘A good idea. You can have one too. Then we can talk.’

  She went to the cupboards and found the things she needed.

  Theo put the kettle on. He came back to the sofa. ‘How do you talk in our minds? Is it telepathy?’

  ‘That’s one word for it. We simply call it speaking.’

  ‘Can you teach us to do it?’

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘From far away?’

  ‘Ah no. I can do that, although it drains me of strength. But you and your sister will have to be able to see each other.’

  ‘So we have to have a connection. It’ll be like the telephone, not like radio.’

  Mr Jones laughed. He looked pleased. ‘You think things out. You’re the practical one. And your sister’s the dreamer.’

  ‘Is that why you’re interested in us?’

  ‘More than that. Much more.’

  ‘Are you looking into our minds now?’

  ‘I only peek when I have to, Theo.’

  ‘You can do other things too.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Well, teleportation. Like when you got from the library to the lake. And when you got away from us on the mountain. Can you teach us that too?’

  ‘No. Not that.’

  Theo frowned. ‘It would have been fun. Have you been watching us since we were babies?’

  ‘Since I found you in the bush. But here’s Rachel. You found a tray, my dear? And some biscuits?’

  ‘The kettle hasn’t boiled yet. I’ll get the tea in a minute.’ She looked at the old man carefully. She felt very close to him, and reminded herself that after all she had known him for eight years. ‘Why are you sad?’

  ‘Can you see that?’

  ‘Yes. I think so. You’re very sad. Sadder than anyone I’ve ever known. I think someone you loved must have died.’

  ‘Yes, that’s so. Someone. Long ago. I didn’t think you would see it. Now tell me what you notice about this room.’

  She looked about her. ‘It’s warm. It’s got a comfortable feeling. But – it’s a sad room. Both the pictures are sunsets.’

  ‘Yes.’ The old man laughed. ‘You’re very good, Rachel. You have the gift.’

  ‘Was that part of a test?’

  ‘A small part.’

  ‘Can you tell us how we got warm when you touched us. We’re still warm.’

  ‘Oh, that’s just an idea I put in your minds. But now, my dear, the kettle seems to be boiling.’

  They drank tea and ate biscuits. When they had cleared everything away, the twins sat and watched Mr Jones. Rachel thought he was very ordinary looking, just an old man with grey hair and a stubbly chin and bony hands. Most old men were like that. But there were lines on his face that seemed to mark some tragedy, something too deep to be spoken of. She felt sorry for him and she sat with folded hands, waiting for him to begin.

  Theo was more impatient. ‘You said there was a job we had to do.’

  ‘Ah, you remember. Yes, there is a job. A dangerous job.’

  ‘We don’t mind,’ Rachel said.

  ‘Think, Rachel. Think before you speak. Very dangerous. You may lose your lives.’

  They were silent.

  ‘But you are the only ones,’ Mr Jones said.

  ‘Is it – important?’

  ‘Yes.’ The word was spoken silently in their minds, and they knew beyond any question it was true.

  ‘We’ll do it.’

  And Theo said, ‘Is it to do with the Wilberforces?’

  Mr Jones bent close. His eyes seemed to bore into them. ‘What do you know of the Wilberforces?’

  ‘Nothing. But … Ricky – our cousin – he said he’s seen you hanging round their place.’

  ‘Has he? Well, I watch them … But it’s too soon yet for you to think about the Wilberforces. Don’t get close to them, that’s all. Don’t let them scent you. And stay off the lake. Never go on the lake.’

  ‘We won’t,’ they breathed. They were too frightened to tell him Mr Wilberforce had one of Rachel’s hairs.

  ‘But now, my dears, put them out of your minds. They will not harm you. They think I can only use identical twins. They have no way of knowing I found you when you were babies, and taught you many things. Yes, without your knowing. Now let’s get on to more pleasant things. I must teach you to speak.’

  ‘Speak?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘What you call telepathy.’

  ‘Do we sort of think what we want to say?’

  ‘Nothing so simple, Theo. You use a little poetry.’

  ‘Poetry?’

  ‘We’ll start with you. Are you ready?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then make your mind clear. Push everything out of it. Not a single thought left. Your mind is a pool of water, very clear, absolutely still. Now Rachel is going to drop some pebbles in. Concentrate on that with all your mind. And forget me, forget my voice. Rachel, this isn’t hypnotism. I’m not making him deaf, he is making himself. He can’t hear me now. His mind is a pool of water.’

  Theo sat with a faint smile on his face. He saw nothing, heard nothing. He waited for pebbles to drop.

  ‘Now, Rachel, your mind must be cleaned out too. Get all that rubbish out. Decide what you want to tell your brother. Have you decided? Now turn each word into a little pebble. What colour do you want them? White? Now hold them, my dear, hold them in your hand. I’m going to leave it to you now. When you are ready, when you have them – are they warm? – just drop them one by one into the pool …’

  She held the words in her hand. They were white as ivory and warm as blood. She dropped them one by one … and Theo felt them sink into his mind and turn as they settled. ‘Theo, I’m not the least bit scared, are you?’

  ‘No,’ he said, and the word made him wince with pain. He had not expected sound.

  ‘Theo, you can speak as well as hear,’ Mr Jones said.

  It took them little more than half an hour before they were able to do it perfectly. Each could ‘speak’ and ‘listen’. Soon they were able to do it without the image of pebble and pool. They simply dropped words into each other’s minds – although Rachel named the process ‘pebbling’. Then they found they could ‘pebble’ with Mr Jones, and to two minds at once. For another half hour they sat holding a soundless conversation – smiling, frowning, looking earnest. It was tiring at first, and each of the twins, resting for a short while outside the ‘talk’, had a moment of panic at the weirdness of it. But quickly they were drawn back in and then it seemed the most natural form of speech and the use of the tongue, the making of sounds, clumsy and primitive.

  ‘Can anyone do this?’ Rachel asked.

  ‘No. Just a few. Just a few of your race.’

  ‘Why can we? And why is it so easy?’

  ‘It’s easy because it’s not a skill, it doesn’t have to be learnt. The ability has always been in you and Theo. It was simply waiting for you to discover it – like a new land in a strange sea.’

  ‘Is it because we’re twins?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Yes. Because you’re bonded. Your minds
work together. But it’s also because you’re different from each other – a sort of north pole and a south. Theo, you’re practical – you like to know why and how – and Rachel, you’re intuitive. You understand without knowing the reasons. But also it’s because you have red hair. That gives you special qualities.’

  ‘Have you taught other people to pebble?’

  ‘I’ve tried. For many years I’ve hunted for a pair. But some have gone only a little way and then grown scared – and one …’

  His face grew dark with sadness and the twins trying to send words through found them bouncing back. It was like being struck with fists.

  ‘I’m sorry, my dears. That was stupid of me – and cruel. But it still makes me sad, you see. They were twins, like you. But identical. Two boys. And they learned as quickly as you. They had red hair. They were amazing children. They were brave and clever and quick – and I grew to love them so much that I became careless. I forgot to watch – to remember I was watched …’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They died.’

  Rachel felt herself almost in tears. ‘How?’

  ‘I can’t tell you. Not yet. I will one day.’

  ‘Was it long ago?’

  ‘A very long time. Many many years.’

  Theo sat with his head bowed. Suddenly he looked up. ‘It’s going to be dangerous for us too, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Theo. I told you that.’

  ‘There’s something you want us to do. You wanted those others to do it and they got killed. Isn’t that right?’

  ‘Yes Theo, it’s right.’

  ‘What is it then? I think it’s time we knew.’

  The old man looked at them for a moment. They did not try to send any words to him. The deep withdrawn look on his face told them his mind was closed. Then he sighed – the first sound in the room for many moments – and stood up.

  ‘I want you to learn to use these.’ He walked across the room and took something from the window-sill over the sink. He came back to the twins and held them out, one on the palm of each hand: two stones. In size they were somewhere between a golf ball and a tennis ball, but flattened slightly. They were river-bed pebbles, Theo thought, and not especially good ones – smooth enough but without any life in their colour. It was simply white, flat white, like milk, although one had a faint tinge of grey.

  ‘What are they?’

  Mr Jones made no answer. He placed one pebble on the palm of Rachel’s hand and the other on Theo’s. They were warm from the sun which had been shining on the sill, and heavier than the twins had expected.

  ‘These are what took me so long. I had to get them ready again. It’s years since anyone tried to use them.’

  ‘They’re just stones,’ Theo said.

  ‘Not just stones. The stones.’

  Theo did not care for mysteries. ‘Yes, but what are they for? I mean, they must be special the way you’re talking about them. Are they magic?’

  ‘They’re a weapon,’ Rachel said. Her face had gone pale.

  ‘I can’t tell you, Rachel. You must see them first. And so far you can’t. I didn’t expect you to. It’s possible you may never be able to.’

  ‘What do you mean “see”?’ Theo persisted.

  ‘They aren’t what they seem. But I can’t tell you what they are or how to use them.’

  ‘What do we do, then?’

  ‘Slow down, Theo. Take it slowly. You’ve got to see the stones the way they are. The only way to do that is to take them into your mind. Make your mind a pool of water again and drop the stone in gently. No splash. This one’s yours. Turn it round, look at it. You too, Rachel – this one here. Don’t be frightened. It won’t hurt you.’

  They tried. They looked at the stones from every angle, let them float like balloons and settle gently, spun them, turned them, peered at them closely, into their grain, as though through a microscope. Theo even tried to break his in half. But they remained heavy, white, dull, flat, impenetrable – stones.

  ‘I’m sorry …’ Theo said.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘They’re just …’ He shrugged.

  ‘Do you see nothing? In the shape? The colour? Try again.’

  But it was no good. When the twins looked at the old man again he looked tired, sick. His face had fallen into lines of pain and age.

  ‘We’re sorry, Mr Jones. If you could give us a clue …’

  ‘No. I should have known … It’s no good. They have won. You need to be identical twins.’ He looked at them angrily. ‘Why aren’t you identical?’

  For a long time there was silence. Theo and Rachel stared at the stones hopelessly. Mr Jones had closed his eyes. At last he smiled. ‘I’m sorry. It isn’t your fault. I must let you go now.’

  ‘Isn’t there anything we can do?’

  ‘Forget. That’s all. I must apologise for what I’m going to do. But it will be better if you forget this afternoon. I’ll give you some new memories – an afternoon on the beach. Will that be all right?’

  ‘No. You mustn’t.’

  ‘It will be better, Rachel.’

  ‘But just because of a pair of stupid old stones. I mean, they’re exactly the same, just old white pebbles.’

  ‘Nearly the same,’ Theo said.

  ‘Oh, stop being like a schoolteacher. Can’t you see what he’s going to do?’

  ‘I know. But they’re not exactly the same. It’s not important, but my one’s a little bit grey.’

  The old man caught his breath. For a moment it seemed he was about to break in, then he drew back and let them carry on.

  ‘It isn’t. You’re making it up just because you think he wants to hear something. It’s white. Dead white. Like paper. My one’s the one that’s different.’

  ‘Phooey. How?’

  ‘Can’t you see, it’s got a little bit of brown in it. Just a tinge. But it’s something. Not just stupid old white.’

  ‘Stop,’ a voice said quietly in their heads.

  They looked at Mr Jones guiltily. His face was very calm and no longer old. ‘What else do you see? You, Theo?’

  ‘Nothing else. Just a bit of grey – I mean, off-white. Like paint that’s had a drop of blue put in.’

  ‘Blue. Rachel?’

  ‘I don’t see it. But mine’s got a tiny bit of brown – almost gold.’

  ‘Anything else? Look closely.’

  They looked but there was nothing.

  ‘It’s heavy,’ Theo said. ‘Heavier than it should be. Not like lead though. Lighter than that.’

  ‘Rachel?’

  ‘Yes. And it’s still warm. I mean, a stone shouldn’t stay warm that long should it? Twenty minutes?’

  ‘Rachel, these stones don’t feel the sun. Or the cold. They are always the same.’

  ‘They were warm when you gave them to us. Weren’t they, Theo?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘That means they recognised you.’

  ‘Recognised? Stones?’

  Mr Jones shook his head. ‘No. You’ve had enough for today. You’ve come very far. Much farther than I had any right to hope. I’m going to do something now that you won’t like. Give me the stones.’

  Reluctantly they handed them over. He put them back on the window-sill.

  ‘If they’re so important you shouldn’t leave them there,’ Theo said.

  The old man smiled. ‘They’re safe, Theo. And I like to remind certain prowlers I have that they exist.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Tomorrow. You must learn more about the stones first. Now take them into your minds. Have you done that? I’m going to lock them there and when you come back tomorrow you’ll know a good deal more about them. But I have to stop you poking at them and wondering what they are. So I’m going to make you forget. I’ll give you the memory of an afternoon on the beach. You won’t remember this visit till I call you tomorrow.’

  ‘No –’

  ‘Yes, Rachel. It’s necessary.’

  ‘Wi
ll we be able to pebble?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry. Not until I clear your minds again.’

  ‘But can’t you tell us now what it’s about? I don’t think it’s fair –’

  ‘Very few things are fair, Theo. And tomorrow I’ll tell you everything, I promise. Now are you ready?’

  ‘But –’ He was going to ask what the creatures were that had attacked the Sea Lady. But Mr Jones raised his hand and Theo found he could not speak, either with his voice or with his mind.

  ‘I’m sorry, Theo. I must do what has to be done. Now, do you have the stone in your mind? Hard and clear?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was able to say that.

  ‘You, Rachel?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Goodbye, my dears. Sleep well. You are very special people. You are the hope of your race.’

  They were walking along the road towards home. The sun was low in the sky and a cool wind had sprung up from the sea. They shivered and wrapped their towels around their shoulders.

  ‘Are we late?’ Rachel asked.

  Theo looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly six. We’d better run. Auntie’ll be mad.’

  They began to jog.

  After a while Theo said, ‘It’s funny Mr Jones didn’t get in touch.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that too.’

  ‘Are you still warm from yesterday?’

  ‘Yes. Not as much though.’

  ‘I can still smell the lake.’

  ‘So can I.’

  ‘Do you think Mr Jones can smell it?’

  ‘I don’t know, but I wish he’d come.’

  Theo was quiet for a time. ‘Maybe,’ he said, ‘maybe he put us through a test yesterday. Holding our hands like that. And maybe he discovered we were no good.’

  ‘Yes,’ Rachel said, ‘that’s what I’ve been thinking.’

  It made them unhappy.

  4

  THINGS THAT GO QUACK IN THE NIGHT

  Rachel was sleeping fitfully, dreaming of fish and rubies and fires that licked round her face without burning, when her door opened and Theo came in. She woke at once and sat up.

  ‘Have you been having dreams too?’

  ‘Nightmares,’ he said. ‘About those things that chased us. Listen, Rachel, there’s something wrong. We spent the whole afternoon on the beach and I even swam out to that big yacht. But I didn’t think about the sharks once.’