by Alice Major
Molly was wandering the path of strange dreams. She held a round stone in her hand and felt it burning her, eating slowly through her palm. She tried to drop it, but couldn’t. Then the wild woman appeared, first a figure far out on the prairie, then looming over her. The wild woman was angry but kind; she swirled her cloak of fur and leather over Molly, muffling her eyes in its dark folds. The cloak became a sky above her, spangled with stars. Molly found herself gazing at one constellation in particular, four stars in the shape of a kite with three more as a tail.
The stars, shifted, moved, became a fish swimming away and she was lying underwater, looking at the fish above her. The water moved slowly and she felt a light sensation like water weed—or perhaps the touch of fins—soothe her hand. Then the dark above her began to turn white.
She dreamed for a long time that she was walking through white fog that seemed the same whatever direction she looked. Finally, just as she was beginning to feel frightened, the fog began to pull together into clumps, into strands, like white wool being drawn down into yarn. Between strands she could see leaves, branches, a small hut screened by bushes. She started to feel rough cloth against her chin and the ground under her back. Finally, she opened her eyes.
She had no idea where she was until she pushed herself over onto her side and saw Ariel lying asleep nearby. Even then, she had a hard time thinking through the situation. The events of the day before seemed so far away and confused in her mind. As she sat for a few moments, her thoughts cleared a bit and she could remember the jolting journey across the prairie and their arrival in the garden. Anything after that remained a blur.
She was just starting to wonder where the others were, when Ariel rolled over and woke up. She looked at Molly with delight.
“You’re awake! Let me see your hand.”
The burned circle was still red, puckered and angry, and Molly winced as she moved her fingers. But amazingly the blisters were gone.
“I’m hungry,” Molly commented after the examination. “Where is everyone?”
“At the li. I’ll get some porridge for you.”
“Li?”
“Don’t you remember? They call it a li, whatever that is—you know, that little village.” Seeing that Molly had only a fuzzy recollection of the day before, she quickly brought her up to date and then said, “Hang on. I’ll run back to get you something to eat.”
She went flying back down the path, to find P’eng stirring the contents of another pot on the fire. Alasdair was watching her, but the others weren’t anywhere to be seen.
“Molly’s awake,” Ariel announced jubilantly. “She’s hungry. Where is everyone?”
“Joss has gone to help Chuan get water, and Mark’s digging up turnips with Li-Tsai,” said Alasdair. “Should I go find them?”
“Yes, but first we’d better get some food to her right now.”
P’eng was ladling the thin porridge into a bowl. “You and I will take her some of this and some broth, too. You, Alasdair,” (she pronounced it something like “Aster”) will go and tell the others.
Mark and Li-Tsai had already dug a small pile of brown-and-orange turnips. Mark found it hard work. The wooden shovel he had been given was awkward and slow to use. But he kept on gamely until the old man said, “There, that is enough.”
He laid down his shovel with relief and turned to look out over the field that sloped gently down towards a grove of trees. Beside him, Li-Tsai grunted as he sat down. After a moment’s hesitation, Mark sat down beside him.
At the edge of the field, the path to the li disappeared into the trees. Beyond them rose the thin white thread of smoke from the cooking fire. Mark gazed up, following the line of smoke until it disappeared against the sky, then looked beyond it to where the two fine rays stretched from either side of the light node. “Why is it called Yao-chi’s thread? Who is Yao-chi?” he asked, almost dreamily.
“She was the fourth and youngest daughter of Shang-ti, the Lord on High. She taught men how to spin reeds into cloth.” Li-Tsai waved his hand to where the slough gleamed below them, a few tall stems poking raggedly above the water.
“What happened to her?”
“Her older sister was the sorceress Yang, who envied Yao-chi because she was beloved by Yi, the Great Archer. One day, when Yao-chi sat spinning on a hillside, Yang tricked the archer into shooting at her sister’s bright form in the distance. Of course, he shot true and strong and killed Yao-chi instantly. In great grief, the Lord on High set his daughter in the sky to spin eternally and banished the spiteful Yang beyond the dragon lands.”
Li-Tsai fell silent, while Mark sat absorbing the story. “But that’s only a story,” he said at last.
His companion was offended. “And what is anything but a story? You tell us a story about a round world spinning?”
“But it’s true,” Mark protested. “We come from such a world.”
“True.” Li-Tsai seemed to be pondering the word.
“Yesterday, you said we came from ‘the other side,’“ said Mark. “What did you mean?”
The thoughtful expression left Li-Tsai’s face and he looked uncomfortable. “It is not something to talk about,” he said, then sighed. “Although when we see legends coming true and walking among us, what value is silence?”
Mark puzzled over this cryptic remark for a moment. “What are you not supposed to talk about?”
“The other side,” Li-Tsai said. Then laughed unexpectedly. “But if you come from there . . .”
“Then you’ve heard of our world before?” Mark made a mental leap into the dark, guessing wildly. The merry look in the old man’s eyes faded. “Yes,” he said. “This knowledge has been taught by one guardian to another and kept secret from all others. That there is another side to the universe, where our people came from.”
“How did they get here? The same way we did? Then we can get back.”
The old man shook his head. “No, the gate was closed many long years ago. We were left here to guard and keep it safe from . . .”
“From ...?” prompted Mark.
But Li-Tsai shook his head again and refused to say any more. They sat in silence for a while. Then Mark tried another tack. “When did you come here as guardian?”
“Many, many years ago.” He sighed and stroked the thin hairs of his moustache. “I thought it was a great honour when I was a young man. Many great princes have held the fiefdom of the Lady’s Garden. I did not guess it had dwindled to a single li, or that I would end my life digging turnips.
He sighed again and heaved himself to his feet. “Come, since we must dig turnips, we might as well go back and eat them.”
Meanwhile, on the dock that ran out into the slough, Chuan and Joss were hauling in buckets of water on the ingenious pulley system that ran out over the water. A short parade of wooden buckets already stood dripping on the dock. Chuan lifted the last bucket off easily, while Joss watched the other girl’s strength enviously. When she herself had tried to lift a bucket from the line, she had nearly capsized herself into the water.
Chuan put the bucket down onto the wooden planks of the dock and pushed back a strand of hair that had escaped from her braid. Hands on the hips of the brown tunic that came to her knees, she looked dubiously at Joss.
“And this is true, what you tell us?” she asked. “A round world with thousands of thousands of people all over it? And you can marry whoever pleases you, noble or peasant?”
Joss nodded. The older girl—she seemed just a little older than Ariel, thought Joss, although their attempt to establish ages had run into confusion over just what a “year” was—plunked herself down on the dock and drew her knees up against her chest. She looked moodily out over the motionless water.
“Thousands of people. And I am here in the middle of nowhere with an old man and a timid sister.”
“Can’t you go bac
k home?”
“Not until twins come to replace us as daughters of the garden.”
“Do other people ever come here?”
“They used to. A long time ago, many people would come to pay homage to the garden and ask questions of the bones in the fire. So Li-Tsai says. Now, never. There has never been anyone since the second winter after P’eng and I arrived here. Maybe no-one will ever come again. I may be here all my life.”
Joss found the lonely, trapped quality in Chuan’s voice painful to hear. She tried to think of something comforting to say.
“Maybe things will change somehow,” she said vaguely.
“Change? Change how?” The question was mildly contemptuous.
“Well, we’re here. That’s something different.”
Chuan laughed suddenly. “Different, yes! A group of uncouth barbarians. What are we going to do with you?”
“Uncouth!” Joss was stung. “What’s so uncouth?”
“Your hair. Your clothes. Your big noses and your funny eyes. Your strange names.”
Joss laughed in turn. “Well, what about your clothes. And my nose is all right. It’s Mark who has a big one.”
“You all have big noses and eyes set way in deep,” Chuan said firmly.
“And your names are just as strange,” mocked Joss. “P’eng—it sounds like a button popping.”
“Joss-see-lin... who could say that? And what kind of a name is ‘Mol-li”
At the mention of her friend’s name, Joss grew serious. “How are we going to get back?” she said. “The rest of us could get by here, but Molly’s absolutely stuck without her electric wheelchair. You don’t know how to send us home. Nobody does.”
“Perhaps the Count of Religious Affairs. In the capital.” Chuan spoke abruptly, even bitterly. Joss looked up.
“Don’t you like him?”
“He sent us here.”
“Who is he?”
“He is the official who is responsible for all temple ceremonies, all the rituals, all the secret rituals.”
Joss considered. This sounded hopeful. “How far is the capital?”
“It takes twenty pulses to make the journey on foot. We were not important enough to send by horse.”
Joss translated the time in her head and was dismayed. “Three weeks! Molly would never make it that far. And how could we find our way there?”
“Follow the direction of the thread until you hit the great river.” Chuan moved her finger north, following the streak of light in the sky. “There is a trail. Across the river, the roads are easy to find.”
“We’d never make it,” Joss repeated. “Not without someone to guide us.” She thought for a moment. “Someone like you.”
“Me.” It was clear Chuan had, in fact, thought of this possibility before. “Li Tsai could never make the journey. My sister would not.”
Joss thought. Chuan had already described the capital city to her. It sounded intriguing, exciting. Molly could wait here for them. It would be a long wait, but ...”
She jumped to her feet. “Well, that’s settled then. Let’s go talk to the others.” Reaching down, she pulled up a bucket in either hand and set off along the dock. Chuan picked up two more buckets and strode after her, a determined light in her eye.
But the matter was, of course, far from settled.
“You want to do what?” Ariel looked incredulous.
Chuan and Joss had found the li empty when they arrived back with their buckets. The others were all seated in the dusty scrap of ground just outside the garden walls. The boys had gone earlier to bring Molly’s wheelchair from where they had left it, and she sat in it again looking as lively as ever.
“Go to the capital.” To Joss, it seemed simple and obvious. She hadn’t expected the lack of enthusiasm. Only Alasdair seemed to support the idea. Molly was furious at the idea of being left behind, and Ariel refused point-blank to consider breaking up the group. Mark didn’t think it would do any good.
“The answer’s here, I’m sure it is,” he said, glancing over at Li-Tsai, who shook his head. “This is some sort of connection point between our world and this one. We should stay here.”
But Alasdair threw himself into the argument with unexpected heat. “We need to go,” he insisted. “Maybe the connecting point is here, but we have to get more information on how to go through it.”
The argument dragged on. Chuan kept repeating, “We would be back soon. I remember the way,” and Joss was almost shouting, “We have to go. We have to.” Mark felt a resentment towards his twin that he’d never felt before. She was as stubborn as Molly was.
“The answer’s here,” he insisted.
“But how do we find it?” asked Alasdair.
“What else can we do?” Joss stood up and stared around at the ring of faces. “What else can we do?”
Her question hung like smoke in the air. Ariel suddenly collapsed. “Well go then,” she said bitterly. “I’m staying here.”
“Me too,” said Mark.
Alasdair said, “I want to go,” with a kind of defiant apology in his voice. Mark shrugged, but Joss muttered “Thanks.”
“Three is a good number to travel,” Chuan said in a practical voice with a hint of relief. “We’ll leave early in the next pulse.” She shook the dust from her long tunic and flung her braid back to stare defiantly at her sister. Then she walked back towards the li. Alasdair followed her, but Joss paused.
“I’m sorry, Molly,” she said. “But you know you just can’t go.”
Molly held her head back against the wheelchair, her face rigid, and said nothing. After a long moment, Joss turned away and walked down the path. Ariel burst into tears.
Later, after a sullen meal, Ariel watched Chuan as she packed food for the journey in three bags of rough leather. Pale slices of turnip that had been dried by the fire; dried berries, dark and wrinkled as raisins. One bag was filled entirely with the small, smooth grains they called millet. Into one bag, Chuan put a stone box lined with damp moss; in the centre of the moss smoldered a piece of black charcoal from the fire.
“How can I let her go without me?” Ariel said abruptly. “She’s my little sister.”
Chuan glanced at her. “You can’t look after them all.”
“I’m supposed to,” she replied bitterly, then got up and paced across the store-hut’s dirt floor. “Alasdair, too. He’s just a kid.”
Chuan looked surprised. “To me he is almost a man. Young, still, of course. But old enough to wear the cap and receive the mulberry bow from his father.”
Ariel hardly heard her. “Molly would be safe enough here. So would Mark. Nothing much could go wrong here—but who knows what could happen to you.”
“Come, then,” said Chuan.
Ariel looked at her in frustration, then turned away to hide the fact that her face was twisting with tears. “What should I do?” she whispered to the small, high window.
In the end, it was a party of four people that set out next day for the capital. Joss stood like a restless pony while Chuan tightened her pack of food and travelling gear. The supporting straps crossed her chest in an ‘X,’ and a stone water bottle was slung at her hip. They would fill their bottles when they passed the slough.
Molly had refused to come and say good-bye. She stayed in the garden. Mark was there, a stony expression on his face. As Ariel finished tying the water flask to the belt loop of her jeans, she came over to him.
“I hope I’m doing the right thing,” she said, her face anxious.
Her brother gave her a quick hug. “Go on,” he said.
And then he was waving good-bye as they began picking their way between the huts towards the path that led to the slough, and past it to the unknown country beyond.
Chapter Twelve
The travellers filled their bottles at the d
ock, then set off along a fainter trail that branched away around the end of the slough. Once they were past the water, the path began to climb slightly; all at once, their packs felt heavier. Leaning into the straps that crossed her chest, Ariel thought grimly, “If I’m getting tired already . . .” Ahead of her, Chuan strode easily.
As the path levelled out again, Ariel stopped and looked back. From here, she could see that the li and the Lady’s Garden lay cupped in a shallow bowl in what was otherwise wide, flat prairie. Below her, the water gleamed like dull pewter. She noticed that there didn’t seem to any stream flowing into or out of the slough. Beyond it, the groves of thorny trees were bigger than she had realized, spreading like silver-gray wings to the right and left of the village.
To the right of the sheet of water, the turnip and millet fields lay on a light slope of land. She could see a small figure moving across it. Mark? The emptiness and loneliness of the landscape crept into her heart like a mist.
“I shouldn’t leave them,” she thought. Hesitating, she looked over her shoulder. Joss was looking back at her and waving. Ariel felt the mist move into her eyes.
“I suppose I have to leave someone. And Joss is the one who’s most likely to get herself into trouble.” She sighed aloud, then turned to follow.
Chuan had told them this path had been unused for years. But it was still surprisingly easy to follow. The tough-rooted grass had not grown back across it. In places a low-growing plant with tiny, crisp, round leaves had taken root, making a soft, springy cushion to walk on.
They walked slowly but steadily, pausing only now and then for a handful of dried fruit and a gulp from their water bottles. Once Chuan stopped them to point out a plant with a ring of bayonet-shaped leaves growing knee-high. She showed them how to dig down a short way out from the ring to find a big, round, flattened root. Cutting into it, they found a pool of liquid at the centre. It tasted slightly metallic, but refreshing.
