by Naomi Foyle
‘But—’ she tried.
‘Astra.’ Hokma cut her off. ‘Be nice. Okay, girls, let’s grab some buckets and brooms and get to work on those cages.’
Hokma started up the verandah steps and behind her back Lil flashed Astra a smile – not a nice smile; not a sensitive, shy, I’d-really-like-to-get-to-know-you kind of smile; not a cheeky, eye-rolling, aren’t-adults-bossy, shared pain kind of smile; but a nasty, sly, triumphant little smile: a smug smile with glue slathered over it and broken glass sprinkled on top.
For an hour they worked in silence. Astra’s arms ached as she scrubbed the cage floors, endeavouring to out-clean Lil, who slopped too much water around and had to go back to Wise House twice to refill her bucket. That was wasteful, but Hokma didn’t tell her off. When they finished cleaning Hokma said ‘well done’ and ‘thank you’ to them both, in exactly the same infuriatingly brisk and encouraging manner. Astra couldn’t remember when Hokma had last been this cheerful. Normally they worked in near-silence, taking the three trainees to the clearing first, and flying them for an hour. But today Hokma said, ‘Let’s show Lil how we fly Helium and Silver,’ and so after they had put the buckets and brooms away and filled two pouches with alt-meat, it was the older birds they untethered first.
It was obvious that Lil couldn’t touch Silver – Silver was Astra’s Owleon and even IMBOD officers knew not to hold him – but Hokma gave Lil a glove and let her take Helium. As the huge Owleon stepped onto her wrist, the girl’s eyes shone with a wild fire. She grabbed his jesses and bit her chapped lower lip until it practically disappeared. At last Helium spread open his huge wings and the dark screen of feathers hid the horrible image of Lil’s contorted delight.
Silver perched daintily on Astra’s wrist, his black eyes gleaming and his heart-shaped face tilting in response to sounds inaudible to human ears. Astra sometimes wondered if he could hear her heartbeat. If so, he would be worried, because today her heart was clenched tight as a fist, its knuckles rapping angrily on a locked door. She lagged behind as they walked through the woods behind the aviary, keeping Silver close to her chest and stroking his snowy breast feathers with a crooked finger. ‘I’m sorry, Silver. I’m in a bad mood today. It’s not your fault.’
He nipped at her knuckle as he sometimes did when they were walking. It never hurt and didn’t mean he was annoyed with her; he was just seeking food.
‘Not yet, Silver. We’ll be there in a minute.’
Ahead of them she could see Lil striding a couple of feet in front of Hokma, her slight frame dwarfed by Helium’s dark feathery mass. She willed Lil to let her arm drop. Helium wasn’t that heavy, but he still gripped your arm until it hurt. She shouldn’t be able to carry him far. Surely after Hokma unlocked the back gate Lil would hand Helium back?
But Lil tucked her right hand under her left elbow and held her skinny arm steady, all the way through the woods to the cedar hedge that ran between the Wise House grounds and the flying field. Astra closed the hedge gate and trudged through the long grass to the near perches. Silver was lighter on her wrist now, half-lifting in anticipation of food and a flight. But the gentle pull of his talons on the glove didn’t raise her spirits as it usually did.
How long was Lil going to be here? Hokma said until they’d found her family – but the girl didn’t have a family. Her Code-Shelter father had died, that was what Nimma had said yesterday after the emergency Or meeting that none of the Or-kids were allowed to attend. The local IMBOD officer had come to it, galloping up on a sleek black horse he’d tethered to a tree near East Gate. Astra and Meem had fed the horse apples and after the officer had mounted and ridden away again Nimma and Klor had summoned them to the Earthship for a Shelter house meeting with Yoki and Peat.
Astra had sat on the floor with her knitting. The girl, she knew, would have told the adults a pack of lies. But if Astra said so, she might get into an argument and that would be dangerous for her and Hokma. The best way to avoid losing her temper at Shelter house meetings, she’d learned, was to focus on something else. Right now she was knitting a pair of socks for Craft class. The stitch was easy, but the gold yarn and the needles were thin and she had to concentrate hard to control her gauge. Nimma had said that if the socks were good enough, she could send them to a constable in the Southern Belt.
Klor and Nimma’s report was even worse than she’d feared. Lil, it appeared, had managed to fool all the adults, even the IMBOD officer. She was a traumatised young girl, Nimma said, and Elpis had clearly sent her to Or to be healed. The girl hadn’t spoken at the meeting, but when the IMBOD officer said if she didn’t co-operate he’d take her away with him, she’d begun nodding or shaking her head to their questions. Her Code-Shelter father had left his community with her after her Birth-Code-Shelter mother died, eight or nine years ago – the girl wasn’t sure how long it had been, and she couldn’t point on a map to where the community was located – and he had wandered with her in the mountains ever since, coming down to the steppes at night if they needed supplies.
Peat was taking minutes. He looked up from Libby and frowned. ‘That’s weird,’ he commented. ‘Why would he want to leave his community?’
It was unusual behaviour, Nimma said, but grief did sometimes make men do irrational things. He’d obviously loved Lil very much, though. She’d drawn pictures for the meeting showing how they’d lived in caves, and how he’d taught her how to make fire with a piece of flint, and felt blankets from the wool he gathered from fences on the sieppes so even in the winter they were warm. He’d taught her how to read, too, for she was carrying a tattered book of Gaia hymns and stories in the pocket of her old hydropac. ‘Imagine that,’ Nimma sighed. ‘A book. It must have been a family heirloom.’
Sure it was. Astra pulled the yarn tight. The man was an infiltrator and he was making sure his kid had a cover story for when they both got caught. He’d probably stolen the hymnbook. IMBOD should search the crime records for that.
‘Watch your tension, darling,’ Nimma warned, and Astra examined her stitches. Annoyingly, her gauge had been shrinking. She scowled and started unpicking.
Peat was still puzzled. ‘Eight years ago?’ he persisted. ‘So how did she have her Security shot?’
Without warning, this had become a red-light conversation. Astra concentrated on getting her row back in order. She had to soften her shoulders and work on nice loose stitching until the topic had passed. Knit two. Purl two. Knit two.
‘We think she didn’t,’ Klor said. ‘Perhaps that was one reason he took her away.’
Peat was amazed. ‘But that’s child neglect – child abuse. She won’t be able to fit in anywhere now.’
‘She won’t have any friends,’ Meem said complacently.
‘She’ll be lonely,’ Yoki echoed.
It was her turn. ‘She’ll be sad,’ Astra contributed from the Sec Gen’s interchangeable stock of Imprints concerning the disastrous effects of Serum deprivation. These were learned at school – never repeated in front of the older children, of course, but expressed among themselves in tones of crocodile solicitude whenever one of the Or-teens was going through a tempestuous period. It was obvious to Astra that these comforting maxims weren’t all strictly true. Despite – or perhaps even because of – her trauma, Congruence had strengthened her hold on her friends and starred in Ahn’s film, while Durga had visited recently from Atourne to shyly announce she had made a Gaia bond with another young woman in her Craft College class. But still, it did look like life without the shot could be a terrible struggle. Everyone knew Pristina was having a difficult time on IMBOD Service because she wrote long, weepy letters to her Code parents begging to be allowed to come home. And just this morning Stream had been observed shouting at Torrent on the Kinbat track and then storming into the woods in tears.
Hokma always said that Astra wouldn’t be lonely or sad when she grew up because she’d go to college in Atourne and meet older non-Sec Gen people like her, but in the meantime one of the adages
was definitely true: she didn’t fit in. The teens treated her like just another Sec Gen kid, but though the Sec Gens accepted her, she was only ever half-present in their company. They were fun to play chess or hnefatafl with, and they were good at teamwork in the kitchen or the garden, but none of them liked to make up stories or ask questions, and none of her Shelter siblings ever took her side if she was upset with Nimma. Sometimes this was a good thing and Meem’s giggles or Peat’s Code-talk would coax her out of a strop; other times, though, she festered and had to stomp up the path to Wise House to let her anger loose on Hokma.
‘What he did was legally wrong in many ways,’ Nimma responded, ‘but the important thing is that Lil’s here with us now. Hopefully one day she’ll have older non-Sec Gen friends and be happy with them. Not everyone’s as lucky as your generation, are they?’
‘We’re very lucky,’ Meem beamed.
Yoki looked troubled. ‘I don’t like non-Sec Gen kids,’ he announced. ‘They’re selfish.’
‘Yoki,’ Nimma tutted, ‘that’s not a nice thing to say. Durga’s not selfish, is she? And neither is Congruence. She helped you in the garden the other day – I saw her.’
Yoki considered this. ‘Yes, she did,’ he conceded.
Peat had been tapping on Libby. Now he looked up with the air of a researcher. ‘What did they eat?’ he asked.
Nimma glanced at Klor. ‘Well, they ate nuts and berries – safe berries, of course. And other fruit, and wild herbs and mushrooms. We think that he stole flour and other food from communities – the IMBOD officer said several such thefts had been reported in this area. And’ – she twisted her emerald ring – ‘they hunted.’
Nothing about Lil would have surprised Astra, but the other children recoiled, their faces stricken with disgust and disbelief.
‘Hunted? You mean they killed animals?’ Yoki exclaimed.
‘Yes. It looks like her father taught Lil how to make traps and how to use a bow and arrow. They caught and ate birds and fish, and occasionally rabbits.’
‘Whoah!’ Peat exhaled.
‘But that’s … bad,’ Meem stammered.
‘We have to assume he was invoking the self-defence law,’ Klor said.
‘But the self-defence law only lets us protect the crops.’ Peat had recovered his composure and was now analysing the information in context. He was in Year Eight, and as expected, he was acing Law class.
‘That’s true,’ Klor said. ‘But if you don’t have access to alt-meat or enough vegetable protein then hunting does count as self-defence. Some tribal people still do it, and Is-Land doesn’t table objections at CONC meetings.’
Two tears had appeared on Yoki’s long eyelashes, shining like dewdrops on a spider’s web. ‘But that’s not here,’ he objected. ‘There’s no hunting allowed in Is-Land. Never ever. That’s why Gaia killed Lil’s dad.’
‘Now, now, Yoki.’ Nimma pulled the boy to her side. ‘Gaia didn’t kill Lil’s father. He just got sick, that’s all.’
‘They could have eaten nuts, like squirrels!’ Yoki shouted, the tears flowing freely now. ‘I hate her. I don’t want her here.’
Everyone looked at him in concern then. Even though Yoki was one of the more sensitive Sec Gens, it was still rare for him to cry. His distress was contagious: Meem was trembling too, and she reached out for Klor, who bundled her close.
‘Hush, children,’ Klor said soothingly as Nimma wiped Yoki’s tears away. ‘Even if Lil’s father broke the law, that’s not her fault, is it?’
This was all nonsense. And if Yoki was going to throw a tantrum, she could risk an outburst too. Astra jabbed her knitting needles into the ball of yarn. ‘How do we know he was a Gaian?’ she interjected. ‘He left his community and he killed birds and mammals. I think he was an infiltrator.’
‘Of course we are concerned about Security, Astra,’ Klor said. ‘IMBOD will be thoroughly investigating Lil’s story. But whatever her father was, she’s just a young girl and she needs our help right now.’
‘We know he was a Gaian, Astra,’ Nimma added, ‘because he gave Lil the book of hymns.’ Nimma’s own eyes welled up now.
Typical.
‘He built his own pyre with her and taught her how to perform a Return to Gaia ceremony for him.’
‘Don’t cry, Nimma,’ Meem pleaded as Klor reached over and stroked their Shelter mother’s hand.
‘I’m sorry, children. It’s just very moving. Imagine performing a Return to Gaia ceremony by yourself – and then her Gaia-blood began. I think that must be why Elpis sheltered her in the Birth House.’
‘I don’t want to help her,’ Yoki sulked. ‘Not if she ate rabbits.’
‘I know it’s hard to accept, Yoki,’ Klor said. ‘But she didn’t have a choice. She was obeying her father, wasn’t she?’
‘We all have to obey our parents, Yoki,’ Meem said, sitting up and holding Klor’s hand.
‘She’s a minor. She’s not legally responsible for what her father made her do,’ Peat chipped in decisively. He and Meem looked composed again now. The crisis had rippled through them and subsided without leaving a trace of anxiety. Tomorrow, Astra knew, Yoki too would have come to terms with the news and none of them would question the adults’ decision to believe Lil’s absurd story.
‘You don’t have to help her, Yoki,’ Nimma reassured him. ‘She’s not used to playing with other children – and she won’t be here for long. We’re just telling you about her now so that you don’t believe any wild rumours that might go around later.’
Then Nimma had revealed the plan, which had been decided on at the meeting, with the full approval of the IMBOD officer. Lil had been registered as an IMBOD Shelter child and the state was going to pay for her upkeep while they looked for her community. In the meantime, the Or Parents’ Committee had volunteered to be her other temporary Shelter parent. Lil was going to stay at Wise House while investigations proceeded.
Nothing could have prepared Astra for this. ‘Wise House?’ As if it belonged to someone else, she heard her voice slide out of range and crack like a glass. ‘But that’s my Shelter home.’
‘Yes, it’s a Shelter home,’ Nimma said patiently. ‘It shelters children. Sometimes a new child comes along. That’s what being in a family is all about.’
‘But no one else has to make room! Why do I have to?’ Astra cast around for support but her Or-siblings were as useless as ever: Peat was checking his Tablette, Yoki was hugging Klor’s leg and Meem was sucking her thumb until Nimma gently removed it from her mouth.
‘Astra,’ she said firmly, ‘there is plenty of room for both you and Lil in Hokma’s heart, just like there’s room for all of you and Sheba in mine.’
Sheba was the final word in any argument, invoked rarely but with the dire threat of Nimma’s silent tears should Astra continue to pester. She shut up, but she was fuming. Sheba was supposed to be her big sister but Astra knew barely anything about her. Nimma dusted Sheba’s photo on the mantelpiece every day, but she and Klor still hadn’t shared her album. The photos weren’t in Libby, not even under child-lock; she had looked. She had once asked Klor, on his own, if she could see them on his Tablette, but he had said Nimma wouldn’t like it.
‘We remember Sheba all the time and we don’t want you children to feel sad about her too,’ he’d said. Four or five years ago, when Meem was old enough, they’d all gone to Sheba’s Fountain together. Those photos were on Libby, but when they had slideshows at birthdays, Nimma and Klor never included them. Why was she supposed to care so much about Sheba if she wasn’t allowed to know a thing about her?
‘Astra. Or-child,’ Klor cajoled. ‘Hokma thought it would be good for you to have some company up there. You’re so busy with the Owleons, you’re missing out on play time, aren’t you?’
Play time? Who were these people? She was nearly thirteen. She didn’t need to muck about in a frigging playground with anyone, let alone an unwashed, meat-eating, Non-Lander spy. Her face was blazing hot and she wanted
to jump up, stamp and yell and throw her knitting across the room. But she couldn’t. She saw Nimma give Klor that sharp, warning glance again, the one that meant: See, I told you so, Astra’s behaving badly again. And Klor’s tufty eyebrows gathered together, his kind face silently replying, Come, darling, I’m sure Astra will calm down soon. She had to stop resisting now or Nimma might one day win this recurring mimed argument and take her to the doctor, ask for tests to be run. She might lose Hokma, the Owleons, everything.
She forced herself to wilt. ‘I guess,’ she whispered.
‘We know it’s a big change, darling,’ Nimma said, magnanimous in victory. ‘But we’re sure it will be interesting, and it won’t be for long. Hokma says she’ll feed the Owleons today, and you can come tomorrow as normal, as long as you promise to be nice to Lil.’
* * *
She’d had no choice. She had promised, and now she was approaching the flying-field perches where Lil was flinging Helium into the air and he was beating his enormous broad wings above her head as she gasped and jumped, and as he soared into the bright blue sky, briefly blotting out the sun, Hokma was laughing and Lil was turning to Astra with a big sparkling grin, saying exultantly, ‘His wings made a breeze on my face!’
Then Lil looked at Silver for the first time and said, her voice quiet with awe, ‘He’s so pretty. Can I stroke him, please?’ And Hokma looked at Astra and Astra heard herself say, ‘Okay – but not near his face, or he might bite you.’ Then Lil ran a fingertip over Silver’s lacy mantle and said, in the same hushed tone, ‘I always wanted to stroke an owl, but an Owleon’s even better.’
For a moment Astra wondered if Lil had ever eaten an owl, but then Silver strained again to fly and it was time to say, ‘Stand back’, then let go of his jesses, release him into the air and watch him rising, rising on an invisible current until he was gliding silently across the forest meadow, past the flying field’s solitary twisted juniper and towards the far set of perches, while beside her Lil whispered, ‘My dad liked owls,’ then, standing ramrod-still, with a terrible sawing sound from her throat, erupted into a desolate, choking upheaval of sobs, crying as if no comfort could ever reach her, until Hokma was hugging her and Astra was somehow gently, helplessly stroking her back, saying, ‘Don’t cry, Lil, don’t cry. You can help me fly Silver. It’s going to be okay. Everything’s going to be okay.’
