Firesong

by William Nicholson

  That moment of breaking astounded him. He relived the sensation, seeking the exact point at which resistance had given way, the instant of transformation, kakakash! From firm to yielding, from solid to liquid, from egg to not-egg. He sensed it then: that if he could enter that instant, and hold it in suspension, he would be in the very heart of – of what? He hunted down the thought. Of life? Of reality?

  ‘We call it the song.’

  The voice shocked him. That it spoke in answer to his thought shocked him. But the sense of it was no surprise. At the heart of the egg lay that which made it egg, lay its eggness. Why not call it the egg’s song?

  Albard and Jumper looked down on Bowman as he lay blindfolded on blankets, with egg-yolk dribbling between the fingers of one hand, and a smile on his face. Jumper nodded, satisfied.

  ‘He’s going to be alright,’ he said.

  ‘Alright?’ exclaimed Albard. ‘He’s going to be a master!’

  14

  Pinto grows up

  The Manth people crossed the bridge early that day, and struck the mountain road. The loss of Bowman and Kestrel lay heavy on each one of them, but none spoke of it. Their task lay clear before them: they were to climb the high snow-covered mountains, and so at last reach the homeland on the far side. Bowman and Kestrel were engaged on some other task, which they did not understand, but which was somehow necessary, somehow part of their own journey. So in sombre mood, they followed in a long line, up the track that climbed the tree-lined slopes.

  Mumpo took the lead. No longer paying any attention to his wounds, he carried a heavy pack, and strode forward with as steady a step as if he was unburdened, and close to home. It was a bright morning, the sky clear blue above the white mountain peaks. He felt that he must take Bowman’s place: Bowman who was always alert to all that was happening, who sensed what others were thinking. He felt strong enough for the tasks ahead, and needed, and full of anticipation. The last stage of the journey was begun.

  Hanno Hath walked beside the litter onto which Ira Hath had been strapped. Seldom Erth led the horse that drew the litter over the stony ground, doing his best to find an even way between the frozen wheel-ruts; but inevitably Ira was jolted as they went.

  ‘This is how they used to put babies to sleep in the old days,’ said Hanno. ‘When the Manth people were still a wandering tribe.’

  Ira smiled from her bundle of blankets and straps.

  ‘I feel like a baby,’ she said.

  Pinto walked on her other side, carrying a pack of her own. Her pack was small, and she felt ashamed, but her father had refused to let her carry more. He had also refused to let her lead the second horse, saying she was too young. Pinto knew she was young if you counted in years. But inside herself she felt she wasn’t at all young, she was as good as any of them, better even. And now that Bowman and Kestrel were gone, she was the oldest child in her family, the only child. That made a difference.

  As they marched, they passed travellers going the other way.

  ‘You don’t want to go into the mountains!’ they told them. ‘Not in deep winter. Not when there’s fire in the sky.’

  Others were even more insistent.

  ‘Turn back! There’s no way over the mountains. Head for the coast and take the sea route, if you must.’

  But Ira Hath could feel the warmth on her cheek, and she grew more certain with every step they took.

  ‘We go north. Follow the road into the mountains. We’ll find a way.’

  They came to a stream, fast-flowing and ice-cold, and stopped to water the cows and horses, and fill their bottles. Rollo Shim was still limping, but he was able to keep up. The one in difficulty was Mrs Chirish. When they stopped by the stream she sat down quite suddenly, and didn’t move again, even to fetch water.

  Creoth spoke discreetly to Hanno Hath.

  ‘We have to do something. She’s a good woman, but she has more to bear than the rest of us.’

  Hanno saw that he was right. The road began to climb steeply ahead. Mrs Chirish would slow them down.

  ‘We’ll make a second litter. She can keep my wife company.’

  Tanner Amos and Miko Mimilith set off into the trees to cut the side rails for a second litter, while Cheer Warmish went through her bundle to find a length of tent-cloth. Hanno took Mrs Chirish aside and explained what he wanted to do.

  ‘My wife finds it hard,’ he said, ‘to be lying at her ease while the rest of us have all the labour of marching. I’d like her to know she’s not the only one. We’re making a second litter, to carry whoever needs a break from the march, and I’d like to ask you to be the first to use it.’

  ‘Oh, I couldn’t be carried along like a queen! Don’t you worry about me. I shall manage. Let poor Rollo take the second litter.’

  ‘Rollo Shim must keep moving, or his leg will stiffen up. And it’s not you that I worry about.’ Hanno lowered his voice. ‘I worry about Creoth. You remember how he helped carry you, on the long march to the Mastery? He swears he’ll carry you again. But look at the road ahead. It’ll kill him.’

  ‘He shan’t carry me! I won’t allow it!’

  ‘He’s so very determined. And my wife feels so guilty. If you could just ride in the second litter, you’d be doing us all a kindness.’

  ‘Well, well. Since you put it that way. I must say, your family have always been good to me. I’ll do what I can to help.’

  So when the column set off again, Mrs Chirish bumped along in a litter alongside Ira Hath, and the two of them pulled faces at each other every time there came an unusually violent jolt.

  All morning, as the winter sun travelled across the sky behind them, they tramped up the winding road. By noon, the way was running between trees, and doubling back on itself in ever sharper bends, to control the gradient on the steep mountainside. As they trod onwards, here and there through breaks in the trees they could see, not far above them, the next loop in the road, and knew it would be a long time coming. They had no choice. The mountain goats that stood still as statues, staring at them through slotted eyes, could bound up the tracks between the trees; but they were not goats, nor were their horses and cows. They must take the long winding road.

  Mumpo kept the lead, now with Bek Shim at his side. Their keen eyes scanned the dense forest on either side, as well as the way ahead. They no longer expected to meet bandits in this little-travelled region; now the fear was of wild beasts. In the village by the bridge there had been talk of mountain cats that crouched on overhanging branches and dropped onto their prey; and of wolves. Mumpo remembered the wolves from the long-ago journey with Bowman and Kestrel. Bowman had talked to the wolves, and they had understood him. But Bowman was gone.

  Mumpo felt a shiver of fear, which he controlled at once. Bowman was gone: he must take his place. Kestrel was gone: he must find a reason for living without her. The enormity of his new responsibilities helped Mumpo more than he knew. He was no longer the friend, the follower, the last in line. He was now one of the leaders.

  Even Sisi sensed this. Since Bowman and Kestrel’s departure, she had taken to seeking Mumpo out and talking to him, which she’d never done before. She asked him about Bowman, wanting to hear the story of the search for the voice of the wind singer. In particular, she questioned him about what had happened in the halls of the Morah. Mumpo did his best to answer her questions, but the details had grown confused in his memory.

  ‘So Bowman came close to the Morah?’

  ‘Yes. We all did.’

  ‘Did he touch the Morah?’

  Mumpo remembered with shame how he had been flooded with a terrible joy, and had marched with the Zars. But what had happened to Bowman?

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe he did.’

  He saw again the white and gold uniforms to left and right, and the beautiful smiling faces of the young Zars. He heard the band, and the voices that sang the song of the Zars, that had only one word –

  ‘Kill, kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill!’

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nbsp; He saw Kestrel ahead, standing still, looking at him – Yes, of course. Bowman too was in the marching ranks, his drawn sword in his hand.

  ‘Yes, he was touched by the Morah. Bowman was our leader.’

  ‘Whose leader?’

  ‘The beautiful people. The soldiers of the Morah. The Zars.’

  Sisi said nothing more. She became very thoughtful.

  ‘Then we ran away,’ said Mumpo.

  The details remained unclear. It was all years ago.

  ‘And now,’ said Sisi slowly, ‘he’s gone to join the Singer people, to destroy the Morah.’

  ‘Yes. I think so. I wonder if we’ll ever see him again.’

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ said Sisi. ‘If I weren’t, I’d lie down here by the road and die.’

  ‘You love him so much?’

  ‘My future is with Bowman. Until he returns, time stands still.’

  Mumpo was amazed that she could say it so simply, and be so sure. He wanted to speak of Kestrel, but then he didn’t. I’m a fool for Kestrel, he thought, and I expect I always will be. But there’s no call for others to know.

  Out of the corner of his eye he glimpsed a shape moving through the trees. He searched the deep shadows, but it was gone. Then as soon as he directed his gaze up the sloping road ahead, he caught the movement in the trees once more. It was a wolf, he was sure of it. One of the great grey wolves that made no sound as they tracked their prey through the mountains, waiting for night.

  Quietly, he fell back until he was level with Hanno, and told him of his fears. Quietly, Hanno briefed Tanner Amos and Bek Shim and Miller Marish, and they all spread themselves out down the length of the line, and watched the trees.

  By general agreement, the marchers did not stop for a midday meal. The winter days were short. They would eat when they camped for the night. They all carried water bottles to quench their thirst, and the little children were given cakes to eat as they walked. Lolo Mimilith refused his cake, on the grounds that he was no longer a child, being twelve, like Ashar Warmish. His brother Mo, two years younger, refused his cake too, but a little later his mother gave it back to him when no one was looking, and he ate it gratefully. Pinto accepted her cake, too proud to copy Mo Mimilith, but she gave it to Mrs Chirish to eat. Mrs Chirish’s arms were under the blanket, strapped onto the litter, so when Pinto held the cake to her mouth, she was unable to push it away. She opened her mouth to say no thank you, but somehow she took a bite of the cake instead. Having started, and so lost any respect she might have won by a refusal, there seemed nothing to be gained by shutting her mouth against the rest. So she ate the sweet cake, with tears in her eyes.

  In the middle of the afternoon, the winding climbing road suddenly emerged from the trees, and came to an end. Before them lay a long flat mountain plateau, stretching for miles to the east and the west, but no more than half a mile wide ahead. The snow lay untouched on this plain. No footsteps or wheel-tracks led across it to the northern side, where the last range of peaks began.

  The Manth people gathered at the road’s end, and rested their packs, and puzzled over what to do next. This sudden expanse of virgin snow made no sense at all. Why did no trees grow here? Why were there no tracks?

  Old Seldom Erth provided the answer, in all its obviousness.

  ‘Water,’ he said. ‘It’s a frozen lake.’

  Mumpo investigated, moving forward carefully, striking the ground ahead with a stick. Shortly he struck ice. He brushed away the snow on the surface, and tried to break the ice, but it was too thick. He stood on it, close to the shore, ready to jump: but it held his weight.

  Hanno had Ira Hath’s litter turned round, so that she was facing north. Her eyes were closed. The jolting of the litter had weakened her.

  ‘Do you feel it still?’ asked Hanno.

  Ira nodded. She raised one finger, and pointed north, directly across the ice. This was all Hanno needed to know.

  ‘We cross the lake,’ he said.

  The smaller children cheered, and at once ran onto the snow-covered ice, and lost their footing, and went flying.

  ‘Fin! Come back at once! Jet!’

  The ice held. The children returned, snow-stained, laughing. But Silman Pillish was concerned.

  ‘How do we know the ice will hold us all the way across? How do we know it’ll bear the weight of the cattle and the horses? If it gives way out there in the middle of the lake, and we fall into the water, we’ll freeze to death.’

  ‘We must take that risk,’ said Hanno. ‘We have no choice.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ persisted the teacher. ‘We could follow the lake shore to the west until we came to a crossing place.’

  Hanno turned to his wife. She had been listening. Now she shook her head.

  ‘No time,’ she murmured.

  ‘It would take another day at least,’ said Hanno. ‘We must cross the ice.’

  After that, no one questioned his decision, but there were many concerned glances. Hanno worked out a plan for the crossing that he hoped would give them the best chance of reaching the other side in safety.

  ‘Mumpo, you and Tanner go first. Sound the ice as you go. Keep a little way apart. If you feel the ice move, or crack, call back.’

  Mumpo nodded. Tanner Amos went to cut himself a stout stick.

  ‘The rest of us will follow in groups of three or four, spread out from each other. Creoth, you wait on the shore with the cows. Seldom, you wait with the horses. When we’re all on the other side, follow us with the beasts. If the ice breaks under their weight, you must abandon them. Move away from them as fast as you can.’

  Seldom Erth had been testing the ice for himself.

  ‘It’ll hold,’ he declared. ‘So long as they go quiet, it’ll hold.’

  ‘Now remember,’ said Hanno to them all, ‘if you feel the ice crack beneath you, spread your weight. Move slowly. The ice is thick. It will carry you even if it cracks.’

  He looked up at the declining sun.

  ‘We have an hour of daylight left. No time to lose.’

  His plan was that he would pull Ira Hath’s litter himself, strapping the horses’ harness to his own shoulders. As soon as Mumpo saw this, he stepped forward.

  ‘I’ll take that. I’m stronger than you.’

  ‘No, Mumpo. I need you in front.’

  ‘Let Bek Shim go in my place.’

  Hanno looked at Mumpo and understood that he needed to show he was strong again, so he let him take over the harness, and placed himself behind the litter, where he could watch over his wife. Mrs Chirish had been released from her litter, to cross the frozen lake on her own legs.

  ‘Go quietly, he said,’ she murmured to herself. ‘That’ll do me just right. Going quietly is how I like it.’

  Just as they were lined up and ready to begin, Cheer Warmish burst into bitter sobs.

  ‘We’re all going to die!’ she sobbed. ‘The ice will break and we’ll all die!’

  Her crying set off a small panic among all those who had been struggling to control their fears.

  ‘What if she’s right?’ said Gale Such.

  ‘Shouldn’t we take the safe way round, even if it is longer?’ said Miko Mimilith.

  ‘Don’t let me drown!’ cried Lunki, and began to howl.

  ‘Be quiet, Lunki!’ said Sisi sharply. And turning to the others, she chided them.

  ‘Why should we be safe? Did we leave the Mastery to be safe? We did it because we believed Ira Hath would lead us to the homeland. If you no longer believe, turn back and follow some other prophet. If you do believe, then believe all the way. Believe the ice will hold you. Believe that nothing can stop us now. Not the end days, not the destruction of cities, not fire in the sky. So hold your heads high, and be proud, and fear nothing and no one!’

  Her words electrified them all. Creoth said out loud,

  ‘Beard of my ancestors! There’s a girl!’

  ‘Let’s go,’ cried Hanno Hath. ‘The sun is setting.’

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nbsp; As he passed Sisi, he pressed her arm in silent gratitude.

  Tanner Amos and Bek Shim stepped out onto the frozen lake, tapping their sticks before them as they went. Hanno waited until they were well out from shore, then he signed for the next group to follow, and the next. The little figures moved cautiously over the coating of snow, sliding their feet forward step by step, learning how to stay upright, sensing the strength of the ice beneath them. Mumpo now followed, drawing Ira Hath in her litter behind him, and Hanno and Pinto came too, not too close, to spread the weight of the group.

  Miller Marish held his two girls’ hands, one on each side, controlling their urge to run and slide.

  ‘Slowly, girls. Slow and even.’

  Mrs Chirish stumped along, breathing heavily, with Scooch to one side, and Lunki and Sisi to the other. The girls who had come so close after their capture by the Barra klin stayed together on the ice, all holding hands: Red Mimilith and Sarel Amos, Seer Such and little Ashar Warmish. Creoth waited by his cows, and Seldom Erth waited by his horses, on the snowy shore.

  On they went, feeling the soft crunch of the snow beneath their feet, and the slight skid that was the ice, as they took the next step. Little by little, the shore receded behind them. The girls who were holding hands gripped each other more tightly. Miller Marish raised his arms, as if to lessen his daughters’ weight on the ice. Mrs Chirish swung each foot down more carefully than before, rolling her weight forward, fearing the first protest from the frozen lake. Now that they were out of reach of land the expanse of ice seemed much bigger than before, and they were all only too aware that if it broke, they would stand no chance.

  Ahead, the leaders, Tanner Amos and Bek Shim, passed the halfway point. Hanno called to them.

  ‘All well still?’