He turned and said, ‘Thank . . .’ but the Jathang girl was already gone.
‘You all right?’ came Singay’s sleepy voice from one of the heaps.
‘I’m a dupe and an idiot,’ replied Pema.
‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘As long as you’re all right.’
In the darkness, Pema grunted ruefully, curled up in his blankets and fell asleep.
‘Pema? Pema! Come on, it’s time to get up!’
Sometimes when people wake, they find that the resolutions of the night before have simply and utterly dissolved. But sometimes when people wake, they find that what had been no more than a good idea the night before has become immutable, urgent and written in stone.
‘Time to get to work,’ was all Singay said, but that was all it took.
Kicking his blankets aside, Pema stood up. He looked strangely taller. ‘Not yet,’ he said, in a voice they’d never heard before. ‘Singay. Rose. Come with me.’
Klepsang and Ma were sitting in the Way Station dining hall, just finishing an excellent breakfast, when they realised they had unexpected company.
Fists clenched, Pema stood over them. It was his turn to loom. In a level, icy voice he said, ‘You will stop cheating us. Now. I will tell you what a fair rate is for the work we are doing for you, and then you will pay us – half now and the rest when we get to Cliffton.’ He paused for the briefest second and then added, ‘And there will be no more of this nonsense about our not staying in the Way Stations or threatening us with Protectors. The Protectors don’t come onto the Overland. You knew that. And now, so do we.’
All around the room, travellers stared, food halfway to their mouths. Ma was rapidly turning scarlet and Klepsang made astonished gargling noises before turning furiously on his wife.
‘You’ve let someone talk to them, haven’t you?’ he snarled. ‘You stupid gow. I give you one simple job – keep them away from people, don’t let people talk to them – one simple little job and you can’t even do that right! What did I ever do to deserve you?’
Ma Likpa squared up to him, thin-lipped with rage. ‘No – body – talked – to – them,’ she spat each word out, separately, like poison pellets. ‘Not – one – soul.’
‘I see,’ said Pema, steel in his voice. ‘You no longer wish us to help you with the animals. Goodbye then.’
He turned on his heel to go, but before he could take even one step, the pair were out of their chairs and holding on to his sleeves.
‘Sit down, dear boy,’ smarmed Klepsang.
‘Have some breakfast,’ oozed Ma.
‘Money first,’ said Pema. ‘Half now and the rest when we get to Cliffton.’
Klepsang and Ma automatically tried to haggle, but this new version of their dupe was having none of it. It took no more than a few moments before everything was settled. But even such a short time was enough for Pema to feel his anger-fuelled fearlessness starting to drain away . . .
‘Get me out of here,’ he hissed desperately to Singay.
Snows! thought Singay. She could see he was turning white and starting to sweat. Grabbing Rose with one hand and Pema with the other, she hustled them out of the Way Station and out of sight round a corner of the building.
Pema slumped onto the ground and buried his face in his hands. Rose and Singay sat down on either side and stared at him with wide eyes.
‘That was a surprise,’ said Rose.
‘I’ll say! You were amazing!’ said Singay. ‘Are there really no Protectors on the Overland. How did you find out they were cheating us?’
‘Somebody told me,’ Pema muttered. Then he groaned and clutched his head. ‘I can’t believe I just . . . Did I really just walk into a crowded room and threaten Klepsang and Ma?’
‘You really did!’ said Singay.
Pema groaned again. ‘I feel awful.’
‘But why?’ asked Singay. ‘You were magnificent!’
‘I put Rose’s life in danger. So stupid . . . so stupid . . .’
‘You aren’t – you didn’t!’ exclaimed Rose. ‘You’ve been looking after me all this way!’
‘If I’m stupid about money we might not have enough to get you safely to the Sea. That’s not looking after you.’
‘But Pema, they tricked all of us!’ Singay put her arm around his shoulders. ‘If it weren’t for you I’d probably be as old as Ma before we found out what was going on, and you’d have a long white beard! And we’d still be hiding from the Protectors!’
Pema gave a ragged laugh. ‘That doesn’t make any sense,’ he said shakily, ‘but thanks.’ He took a deep breath and stood up. ‘Snows, I feel like I’ve done a day’s work already!’
‘And here comes another,’ said Rose. ‘Come on. Let’s get started. The grunts are waiting. And tonight, thanks to our hero, it’s beds and a roof.’
‘And lavender oil in a bath!’ cried Singay.
‘If it’s there to be had, you’ll have it,’ said Pema, sounding suddenly fierce again. ‘Or I’ll want to know the reason why!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Cliffton
A few weeks later, just as the sun was setting, they dropped down from the high plateau and spent the night on the outskirts of Cliffton. First thing the next morning, Pema settled the grunts into one of the selling pens, made sure they had clean water and fresh food, and scratched the matriarch behind her big ears.
He was sad as he made his way back to the others.
‘What, Klepsang and Ma aren’t coming to say a loving goodbye?’ said Singay, looking about.
Pema snorted. ‘Still snoring.’
‘Good thing they paid us last night for getting the grunts here. That was the job, beginning to end.’
Pema didn’t answer. He just started walking, and Singay and Rose trotted after him.
‘Yes, we did it, just like we said. Job done,’ Singay continued in an irritatingly chirpy voice. ‘You know, I wanted to ask you, Pema – do grunts have much of a homing instinct?’
‘Yes, they do. Very strong.’ Why is she asking all these questions? Why can’t she just leave me alone? And what’s that squealing I’m hearing?
‘So that’s a good thing too – because I loosened the fence at the back of the pen,’ she said. ‘No, keep walking! Don’t even turn around!’
‘What – you – what?’ spluttered Pema.
She gave him a companionable shoulder shove and started to laugh.
‘The look on your face!’ she giggled.
‘Were you in on this?’ he asked Rose, who only smiled sweetly.
Pema shook his head in amazement. ‘And all this time I thought you didn’t like grunts very much!’ he said.
‘I don’t. But I like Klepsang and Ma a whole lot less!’
‘Well, maybe our visit to the great and good town of Cliffton should be a short one . . .’
Klepsang and Ma stood looking at the empty pen.
‘What do we do now?’ wailed Ma. ‘Go after the grunts?’
‘No,’ said Klepsang through gritted teeth. ‘Those grunts are long gone. No, we go after those brats. We get even.’
As if on cue, a squad of leather-clad Enforcers with their heavy sticks strolled into view.
‘Thank goodness you’re here!’ squealed Ma.
‘You’re . . . glad to see us?’ asked one of the men. He was the youngest member of the group and his leather was so new it still squeaked. He was thrilled to be on duty, but he’d been expecting a bit more terror and awe from the general public.
Instead, this ghastly woman lunged forward and grabbed him by the arm. ‘We’ve been longing for you,’ she said breathily, ignoring the young man’s desperate attempts to back away. ‘Ever since those terrible fiends got hold of us, all the way back before the Overland.’
‘Fiends?’ barked the Chief Enforcer. ‘Explain yourself, madam!’
‘Yes, wife,’ said Klepsang. ‘Explain yourself. And put the boy down.’
Ma reluctantly released the young man and expla
ined all about the three strangers who, disguised as innocent children, had wormed their way into the much-too-trusting couple’s confidences. How they had preyed upon their pity – ‘Such poor little souls they seemed, lost and all alone in the great wide world . . . how could we not try to help them?’ They had taken advantage of the gullibility of two upright citizens. ‘Especially my husband. He’s got such a big heart – it’s really no difficulty at all to trick him.’
By now, a curious crowd had gathered and, as one, they turned and looked at Klepsang, who plastered a simper onto his face and did his utmost to look as green as grass. It was a singularly unpleasant sight.
‘So, my good woman,’ the Chief Enforcer said, turning back to her with a slight shudder. ‘What did these deceiving children actually do to you?’
‘Children, Your Honour? Oh no. They aren’t children, sir. They’re . . .’ Ma let her voice drop so that the Enforcers and the enthralled crowd had to lean in close to hear as she whispered the word. ‘They’re demons. Who caused an entire herd of grunts to vanish!’
Cliffton was impressive. It had tall, white, uniform buildings and wide streets. There was nothing haphazard about its grid layout, perfect pavements and straight thorough-fares – it was the most organised place they’d yet seen.
‘It even smells good!’ exclaimed Singay. ‘Remember the stink at River Head?’
‘It’s not hard to smell better than River Head,’ Pema replied. ‘Right.’ And he checked that Ker’s pebble was still in his pocket. ‘The Pier is in this direction.’
The Enforcers were looking anxious.
‘And where are they heading?’
‘Heading south, Captain, Your Honour,’ Ma said. ‘Looking for a boat to take them on to the City, that sink of sin, Your Honour, sir.’
The Chief Enforcer had explained to the couple that they didn’t need to call him that, but they were only simple folk, after all, and it would be churlish to insist.
‘You’d best hurry, Captain,’ urged Klepsang. ‘The way to the Pier will take them right through the heart of the town.’
‘Like an evil arrow, sir,’ added Ma.
‘Uh, yes, like an arrow, and who knows who might be, um, pierced, evilly, by them on their way?’ Klepsang gave his wife a look.
‘And Father Impeccable is holding a rally in the Square today to add to the Tower of Faith – starting any time now!’ squawked the youngest Enforcer.
There was a chorus of horrified gasps. Thanks to Ma and Klepsang’s vivid rhetorical fireworks, most of their audience now had a picture of Rose, Singay and Pema as three slavering demons with blood-stained tusks and mesmeric eyes, though still, confusingly, at the same time, apparently just three children. The thought of these devils rampaging through their fair town and into the very midst of a rally of unsuspecting religious townsfolk – well, it didn’t bear thinking about.
‘If you hurry, you might catch them!’ urged Klepsang and Ma yet again, but this time it turned out they were talking to themselves. The Enforcers, and the crowd, were already on the hunt . . .
‘Come on, Rose! We’ve got to stay together!’ Singay urged, but still the Driver tried to hold back.
‘I want to go another way!’ he wailed. ‘There’s something wrong up ahead. I don’t want to go this way!’
The happy mood of earlier had completely evaporated. They’d been caught up in a crowd of Cliffton citizens heading into the centre of the town. Mostly people were on foot but there were oil-engine chairs and sedan chairs as well, carried by burly serving men. Their passengers were arrogant-looking ladies and gentlemen, but what were they doing in the midst of the common crush?
Pema managed to drag the others to the edge of the procession, aiming to shelter in a doorway of one of the fine buildings that lined the street. But Singay was swept back into the flow and, rather than be separated from her, Rose and Pema had to follow her in.
‘They must all be going somewhere, and as soon as they get there, we can break free,’ Pema tried to reassure the distressed Rose, but in truth they were all more than a little scared by the mass of people and their relentless press forward. They’d never seen such a crowd before. It was all too breathless and intent, and with a kind of panic just under the surface. Like a herd, just before it stampedes, thought Pema, feeling sick. It wasn’t an angry crowd – if anything, it was a purposeful and happy one – but with a brittle kind of happiness that could so easily flip into its opposite.
An old woman beside them stumbled and would have fallen if Singay hadn’t steadied her. ‘Thank you, dear,’ the woman said. ‘Everyone gets so excited, they don’t always notice someone who isn’t so spry anymore. We’re almost there, though, aren’t we? There’s more room in the Square.’
‘Is that where they’re all going – the Square?’ Singay asked. She kept a hand on the woman’s arm, as there was another surge forward.
‘Of course! Didn’t you know?’ The old woman’s expression started to sharpen suspiciously, but Pema broke in.
‘We’re new in town,’ he said. ‘Just in off the Overland.’
‘Oh, well, that explains it. You’re in for a treat then, and no mistake! Father Impeccable is holding another auction at the Tower. I always go to the auctions. I’ve never won a bid, of course – well, it’s not likely, is it? – but I always take part. Even someone as poor as I am can have faith, Father Impeccable says. Look! Look! There it is! The Tower of Faith! Isn’t that the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen?’
Pema and Singay could only stare, but the Driver clutched at his head in sudden agony.
‘Oh no,’ he whimpered wildly. ‘No, no, no . . .’
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The Tower of Faith
The Tower of Faith rose into the air like a staircase from a nightmare. The fine, white buildings that made the sides of the Square were tall, three and four storeys high, but the Tower was taller still. It was shaped in an impossible spiral that swerved and bulged its way precariously upwards.
‘What’s holding that thing up?’ exclaimed Singay, as the crowd swept them further into the Square.
‘Faith, of course,’ said the old woman. ‘The dear Father is in charge of the building. He allows us to be part of it, by bidding on each new block of stone. That’s why we’re here! With his blessing, we help the Tower to grow higher and higher.’
Rose moaned again, louder this time.
‘Is the little boy ill?’ the old woman asked solicitously. ‘I know these big crowds can be upsetting for some. Here, let him sit down.’ She metaphorically unsheathed her elbows and shoved her way over to a bench. The spectators currently using it to see over other peoples’ heads were summarily dislodged, and Rose, shivering and whimpering, collapsed onto the seat.
‘He’s starting to attract attention,’ Singay whispered to Pema.
‘We’ve got to get him away,’ he whispered back, but before they could spot an escape route, the crowd around them suddenly went still.
‘He’s here!’ the old woman breathed.
As if from nowhere, a figure had appeared on the platform.
A short, overstuffed woman with a cauliflower hairstyle climbed up beside him, introducing herself as Madame Phophor, Chairwoman of the Tower of Faith Steering Committee, wittering on about the fair town of Cliffton and what a decent, righteous place it was to live, and all the while the man held every eye. Pema and Singay could see him clearly, could see that he was medium height, dark haired, with dark eyes, modestly dressed, but the rest of their perception was flooded by his charisma. There was something about the way he held himself, the way he moved his head, the look in those dark eyes . . .
And then he smiled and somehow each person in the Square was sure the smile was meant for them alone.
‘And now,’ Madame Phophor shrilled, ‘dear friends, it is time for the first token of your faith.’
Throughout the Square there was the sound of hundreds of people reaching for their cash.
‘What’s ha
ppening?’ Singay whispered to the old woman. ‘Who is that?’
‘Shush, it’s the auction!’ she hissed, her eyes fixed on the man as her fingers fumbled with her purse. ‘It’s Father Impeccable. Who else?’
The old woman called out one of the very first bids, for a tiny number of coins, but the look Father Impeccable sent in her direction couldn’t have been more loving if she’d offered him a fortune.
‘Bless you,’ he said, and turned his attention to the next bidder. The old woman sighed joyfully and seemed utterly, deeply content.
Baskets miraculously appeared and began passing from hand to hand, criss-crossing over the heads of the crowd until they reached the next bidder, who threw in their coins.
The bidding worked its way quickly through the poorest. Now it was the turn of the newly better-off, whose careful accents occasionally let their owners down in the excitement of it all, as they called out higher and higher figures. Then, the positively rich took over. Servants now called out the bids, and letters of promise with seals and crests landed in the baskets with hardly a sound. Until a voice announced a huge – a handsome! – offer.
The Square went still.
Father Impeccable looked enquiringly at a veiled lady in an oil-engine chair. All the other bidders were silent. The lady inclined her head infinitesimally, confirming the bid.
‘Done!’ said Father Impeccable. His smile was beatific, and his voice throbbed with emotion. ‘Thank you, my dear, dear friends.’ And everyone felt blessed.
‘Now what?’ whispered Pema.
‘Now the block gets taken up to the very top of the Tower and placed there for everyone to see how strong our faith is,’ answered the old woman.
‘What – that fancy lady’s going to climb up there carrying that great big stone?’ said Singay.
‘Of course not. Don’t be silly. One of her servants will do it.’
A young man in a servant’s uniform now came forward and, with difficulty, picked up the stone. Father Impeccable placed his hand on the block in a final gesture of blessing and stood aside.
The young man put his foot onto the first step of the Tower, and began to climb. They could see his arms shaking from the strain of the weight, and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down convulsively. Higher and higher he climbed. Pema and Singay couldn’t take their eyes off him. As he neared the top, the whole crazy structure started to shiver in time with his footsteps, or perhaps in time with the pounding of the blood through his veins. At the final turn of the spiral he suddenly lost his nerve, and what should have been a delicate, precise placing of the block of stone at the very top was more of a terrified fumble.
Walking Mountain Page 12
