Walking the Tree

by Kaaron Warren

  "More webs," the Birthman said.

  Lillah did three more trips, each further afield. She knew where the spiders were because she studied them, loved them.

  Myrist took the placenta and carefully sliced it with his stone knife. Lillah and Logan took part of it and buried it in the roots of the Tree, while Myrist cooked the rest in tiny dice with onions.

  "Don't cook all the goodness out," Pittos called.

  "I think I would know that, since my own wife came to this Order with the tradition," Myrist said quietly, winking at Lillah.

  He took the plate to Magnolia, resting it on her knees and feeding her piece by piece.

  Logan stroked Magnolia's brow, kneeling on the bed beside her. He did not put any weight on her legs. Lillah watched him and thought him brave for not complaining. She could see blood soaking his pants where he knelt.

  Lillah wanted to sit down and close her eyes. She knew her tiredness was nothing like that of Magnolia's, or Logan's, or Myrist's, or Pittos', but it was tiredness enough. She could not rest, though. She needed to return to the fathers, report back, give them the information they were waiting for. She didn't see how she could interview; in her exhaustion she would forget about her teacher face and be too honest. She dreaded the question: "Why do you want this job?" She was supposed to say, everyone said, "For the joy of watching the children blossom with knowledge, and for a chance to understand the Orders of the Tree through the eyes of an adult". Her real answer, the honest one, was that all she thought about was sex; men; that she could not wait to lie with a man and feel him inside her.

  That was not what they wanted to hear.

  She picked up her bonsai and walked towards the beach. Only moments passed before word got out she was on the move.

  "Is she all right? Baby? Boy or girl? Has he fed? Birthman gone? Are they sleeping?" Nobody liked a sick person. The sickness called Spikes made the ghosts in the Tree hungry. Any sick person knew how much your bones ached, how much weaker you became. The ghosts ate the bones of the sick, kept eating until the body was all flesh. The Spikes epidemic was not something people were proud of. Although Spikes had occurred hundreds of years earlier, people still knew that it passed from person to person, transported by the sick. They knew they did not want the population halved again. They did not want people to die. So they took precautions.

  Lillah didn't know exactly what those precautions were; she only knew she did not want to sicken herself.

  Magnolia didn't believe in this but that didn't mean it wasn't true.

  Lillah stopped and spoke to every one who had a question for her. When she reached the beach, the circle of young women was gone. She peered to the end of the seawalk but in the dim light she couldn't tell if the fathers were there or not. There was a strange kind of light, evening with a storm coming. The heat had gone but the cold not yet risen. She felt as if she was caught between two worlds and that if she misstepped, she would stay in the wrong one.

  There was a crack of lightning and Lillah stood on the sand, undecided, lost. She felt she needed to do the exact right thing, impress people with her choices, but couldn't think what they wanted to see.

  "Lillah?" she heard. It was Melia. "Here you are at last. I got tired of waiting for Magnolia to give out that baby. The fathers are at the Tree Hall. They were wary of the storm."

  The girls walked together. "Is Magnolia okay? And you?" Melia asked as they walked.

  Lillah nodded. "I feel like I've been dreaming for days," she said. "You have to go see the baby. He's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. Is the testing all over? Have I missed my chance?"

  Melia shook her head. "Come on."

  The smells of cooking as they walked made Lillah hungry. "My mother used to say we should cook food slowly and there's no rush if you start early enough. Her food always smelled so good."

  Her stomach rumbled and she wished she'd grabbed fruit or bread from Logan's kitchen. She could picture the food on the table; Magnolia always had food ready. She was a wonderful hostess.

  They reached the Tree Hall. The Tree Hall was low. The tallest in the Order had to stoop to enter, but could stand inside. There were doors at either end, but you entered through one, left by the other. Most of the Order could fit inside if they stood close together. Others would lean in through the windows. Lillah always tried to arrive late when the Order gathered here, to have a spot outside leaning in. It was so close inside, pressed together, thick, airless. The walls were curved, so all voices could be heard easily. It was very warm inside and people wore little clothing.

  The other girls huddled outside the Tree Hall, and greeted Lillah with squeals and questions. Erica nodded and squeezed her hand.

  Thea sat hunched over her bonsai, plucking at its leaves, grooming it until only bare twigs remained. She said in a low voice, "This is my last chance! I'll be twenty-five next birthday, and if I don't go now I'll never go."

  "So go! What's the problem?"

  "I just can't imagine how to like a man like that. It's terrifying."

  What makes one person so shy and frightened, yet others so foolhardy? Lillah thought. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to," she said. "It is not set in wood that you have to be a teacher."

  "I'm scared of leaving this home. What if others don't like me?"

  "Haven't we always welcomed newcomers and teachers? That's how we'll be welcomed. Come with us and see. If you really can't bear it, you won't choose a mate and you'll walk home again."

  Thea shook her head. "I have to be somewhere they don't know about the drowning. I have to start again, as me, not as the one who drowned the children."

  Thea was called in to the fathers. Lillah, her head near the window, could hear most of the interview.

  "I just don't know how I'll manage without Mother and Father. I'll never see them again," Thea told them.

  "Thea, this is your obligation. The birth rate is low all around the Tree and you must play your part. There is no choice in the matter. If chosen, you will be with Lillah and Melia. Your home will be wherever you are with your friends and the children in your care. Then at last you will find a man to love and you will stop and have children of your own."

  Thea was a very tall, solid woman. She sat uncomfortably on the floor, her knees pointing upwards. Her hair was long and she wore it in plaits, as if she wanted to cling on to childhood and not take on the responsibilities of an adult. "You have talent and strength to share," Erica's father said. "You are our strongest swimmer."

  She loved to swim and was very fast. When someone spotted flotsam out at sea, often she didn't wait to see if it would come in to shore. She would swim out to it, rope around her waist to tow it back again. A carved plank of wood which once told a story but was now blurred. A pot with a strange sticky substance inside. A box with odd skin-like straps nobody wanted to touch.

  "I would be happy to do that forever; swimming out to find treasures. I don't think I'll make a good mother."

  The fathers sighed. "Any more reasons you shouldn't go?" one said.

  Thea smiled. "I'm sure I can think of a dozen more." She looked hopeful; maybe they would let her stay behind. "Did you know I can't see very well? There's something wrong with my eyes. I'm not healthy enough to breed. I'm a defect. And I'm too big for a woman. We don't want that passed on."

  The fathers were unmoved by her plea.

  "You are the strongest, healthiest woman we've had in a long time. It is your duty to pass on those genes."

  "There is no place for you here, now. You have to move on so another young woman can stay. This is how our world must work. We cannot have children born of two people close in geography or blood. You know that."

  One of the other fathers had not yet spoken. He coughed now. "I am of the opinion that you are not a worthy teacher. You have shown us you are not capable of keeping children safe. You have, perhaps, shown us that you dislike children and do not think they deserve to be safe. I am of the opinion that you shou
ld stay here. It is our obligation to keep the flawed at home."

  Thea sobbed. "No! I did all I could for those children! They drowned despite all I did to save them."

  There was silence.

  "You may go, Thea," Agara's father said.

  Thea slumped. She crawled out of the Tree Hall, blubbering. Dickson and Tax, her brothers, hovering outside the circle, came to put their arms around her.

  Lillah hoped she wouldn't take her depression along with her; it would make school very dull.

  "Good luck," Melia said.

  "Aren't you next?"

  "They've spoken to me already." She shrugged. "It was okay. Terrifying, but okay. It's when they look at each other. I get nervous and start talking too much. Don't talk too much. Don't fill the blanks in. They know it all, anyway."

  Lillah nodded. "All right." She stepped into the Tree Hall. With just the fathers inside it was a comfortable place to be. Usually there were too many people, too crowded, too close, not enough air. She hated that confinement, could feel it sucking the air from her blood.

  The fathers sat drinking tea, talking. There was silence when Lillah entered.

  "Well?" said one, after many blinks had passed. "We are waiting for the news. What of Magnolia and her baby?"

  Lillah relaxed. They would try to frighten her, be aggressive, but all of it was a test. None of it was real. They were faking it to see how she would react. These men had fed her, bathed her, tended her wounds, comforted her.

  "It's a baby boy, he's fine, he's already fed."

  The men murmured and smiled at this news. A baby who did not take that first feed would be trouble for the Order. Especially a male baby.

  Lillah felt pleased for Magnolia that she and her baby had managed this first thing. Male babies who fed poorly were considered unhealthy and not expected to lead long or fulfilling lives.

  "And Magnolia? The bleeding?"

  Lillah nodded. "When I left the bleeding had stopped and she was sleeping."

  "Her cheeks? What colour were her cheeks?"

  "Pink. Quite pink when I left." The murmurs again, and laughter. Lillah felt a sense of ownership, pride, as if as messenger she owned, had created, the good news. "She seems frightened, though. Nervous."

  Agara's father, a strong-voiced, kind man said, "So many of our babies die in the first day. She doesn't want her baby to die. Now, Lillah, we have a report about your behaviour."

  He is so arrogant. He is trying to frighten me, Lillah thought. Let them explain. Don't apologise or speak before I know what they're talking about. Is this about shouting at my father? Did they hear that Dickson tried to kiss me? Or is it about throwing away scraps of food because I'm too lazy to mince and compost them? Any of the small things she did in a day could be up for discussion.

  Lillah let the silence sit, until Thea's father laughed.

  "You're certainly good at holding your tongue when you want to," he said. "That is a talent, Lillah, which may help you in the future. You must be careful not to silence your true self, though. So many of us ignore our inner voices in trying to please those around us, and we can lose our individuality. I would hate to see you lose your character, Lillah. You must pick a partner with whom you can be your true self, but also a man strong enough to speak the truth himself. It will be very easy to choose somebody who worships you; you will find this wherever you go. You don't want to be a precious stone, untouchable, Lillah. You want to be a leader and you will be a great leader if you find a strong partner who is not frightened to tell you when you are wrong."

  Lillah had to strain to concentrate because the words meant to her that she had been selected, even without the interview.

  "Thank you," Lillah said at last. "Thank you. I will not ignore what you say. But can I choose someone handsome?"

  The fathers laughed. "All want a handsome man, Lillah," Tilla said. "What will you seek beyond that? Do you have anything to you beyond what we see before us?"

  Lillah felt tears prick her eyes. Tilla was an old man, his children grown, and a good friend to her. He made her laugh, helped her view the world honestly. Why was he being cruel to her now?

  Dickson entered the hall and walked to the fathers.

  "You should not be here, Dickson. This is not your place."

  "I have a report to give. Pittos has asked me to come."

  He spoke with the fathers as Lillah watched, her heart beating. She felt sure he was not saying anything good about her.

  He stepped away, pursed his lips at Lillah, and left the hall.

  The fathers conferred.

  Then Tilla rose, took her hand. "Lillah, we have learnt a lot more about you from the way you handled yourself in your sister-in-law's birthing room than we would ever learn from hearing what you think we want to hear."

  Lillah's eyes opened wider and she looked at the fathers. She felt guilty; she had underestimated them. They were not ego-driven at all; they were full of the spirit of the Order.

  "I hope I didn't offend anyone when I asked them to leave Magnolia's room," Lillah said. "But there was no air, and it was too hot. They needed to go. There was too much pity, they thought she was going to die and wanted to be the first to offer sympathies and hold the poor motherless baby."

  "You were right. You did it beautifully." Melia's father stood up and drew her into a hug. "The young men need to pass their judgements next. We will discuss placings tomorrow and the circle will meet at dawn on the day after that."

  Lillah joined her friends in the small home they shared. "Do you think we will all be chosen? Melia, of course you are a teacher."

  "So long as the young men approve," Melia said, smiling.

  Lillah span around joyfully. Her skirt flared out from her thighs then softly rested back. Her skin felt so sensitive, so ready for touch.

  Lillah wondered if Magnolia had felt this elation when chosen as a teacher in her own Order.

  The girls giggled as they prepared for the young men. They wore the lightest of their clothes, shirts carefully woven from strands of leaves. They coloured their nipples, showing them off. Men associated good breasts with good mothering.

  The community gathered by the Tree Hall, resting from work and looking forward to the show. The young men, keen for their chance to be the centre of attention, preened and strutted, making people laugh. Then Melia's father called, "The girls are ready. Everybody sit."

  A seriousness dropped over them all. This was one of the moments that identified a group. Who would they send? Would they send the right teachers, keep the right girls at home?

  The girls knew how important this was and were excited by it as well. Melia went first, walking through the young men, staring them in the eyes and smiling as she had never smiled at them before. The others followed; Lillah found it hard not to laugh. It felt ridiculous. The young men enjoyed it, though. They liked to feel they had some power. They felt that if they sent their best women away, other men would send their best women to them.

  It was hard to take these young men seriously at first. They had grown up together, played games together. But Lillah found herself aroused by the process. Her nipples hardened as the young men stared at her, and she raised her arms and swayed. Catching Dickson's eye brought her back to reality.

  This was the only time they would act as seducers. As they travelled, it would be up to the men to seduce them.

  The young men left to talk together in their home, a low, neat shelter they shared at times. The young women, exhilarated, danced around in the shallow, warm puddles of low tide. Melia draped seaweed on her head and tossed it around like long hair. Thea stepped clumsily about, wanting to join in but not knowing how. Even Erica, her wispy hair loose, danced and span.

  Agara's father called to them. "Girls, we are preparing to feast around Logan's house to welcome the baby and I imagine your help is needed over there. You go now, Lillah. Your cooking will help your father."

  Lillah knew her cooking skills outshone the other girls. Her
mother had been a famed cook.

  Thea caught up with her. "Can I come and see the baby?"

  They ran together.

  Logan swept the veranda surrounding the place.

  He whistled, dancing with the broom. Lillah watched him, her heart filled with air at his happiness. His love for Magnolia, his joy at not losing her.

  "Hey, Daddy!" Lillah said. Logan saw her and dropped the broom. He ran to her, picked her up and span her around. Thea looked at the floor.

  "Isn't it wonderful?" he said. "I can't believe it. Just the matter of a few cups of blood. A few cups of blood more and I would have lost her."