I’ll finish that if you’ve had enough, said Brand.
I shook my head and forked more mutton into my mouth. Chewing meant I didn’t have to talk until I was ready.
So you lied, I said.
Did I? he said, raising an eyebrow. That seems unlikely.
You said you were raised here. Back at home. When you were telling your traveller’s tales, you said you grew up on these marshes on an island in an estuary, and that your family died and you went off travelling the world. So either you were lying then, or you’re lying now. Either you didn’t grow up here, and are lying. Or you did grow up here, and you’re one of the Cons yourself.
He looked at me.
I like you, Griz, he said. I like the way you don’t give up. I also like the way you make me feel… uncomfortable. Like with that question.
It wasn’t a question, I said. It was just a statement of what must be true.
There you go again, he said. Did I tell you about the archipelago in Sweden and the pale girls?
Yes, I said.
That was home, he said. And they were my sisters.
Were? I said.
Maybe they still are, he said. But if you tell the Conservators about them, I will kill you. Understand?
When he didn’t smile, when he looked at you and his face went like a rock and his eyes turned into unblinking blue ice, he was someone entirely different.
Yeah, I said. If what you told me about them is true, I understand why you wouldn’t want them to know about your sisters.
And you understand I’m not joking? he said.
I don’t know, I said.
The lines in the crag that was his forehead rearranged themselves.
What? he said.
You’re a really good liar, I said. You know how to use stories to get what you want. And telling me you’d kill me if I told anyone you came from this archipelago thing is a really good way to try and make me believe it’s the truth.
His face went much more serious, colder, flintier and then the great red spade of his beard split open again and was full of white teeth and the pink inside of his mouth as he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
Griz, he choked, and punched me hard on the shoulder—not to hurt, but to show some strange affection. Griz, I do like you. I like you a lot. You’re just a kid, but you’re no fool, that’s for sure.
I’m not a kid, I said.
When your beard comes in, that’s when you’ll be a man, he said. Nothing wrong with being a kid.
You’re right, I said. But my beard isn’t coming in.
Not yet, he said and punched my shoulder again.
Not ever, I said. And if you punch me again, I’ll punch you back and it won’t be the shoulder.
I meant no harm, he said.
I know, I said, but for a cunning man you’re pretty stupid.
Stupid, am I? he said.
Just as stupid as me, I said. Because I believed what you said, because you said it well and brought gifts like marmalade, and you believe what you see because you were told what to see.
He looked at me. And then he looked at me harder.
Then he sat back, like some of the wind had gone from his sails.
I am stupid, he said. Might as well shit and go blind. Can’t see what’s right in front of my nose…
You’re right, I said.
You’re—he began.
Yes, I said.
I’m a girl.
He blew out his cheeks and looked at his boots. Like he suddenly found it uncomfortable to look at me.
Well, he said. That’s no good. Not here. Not now.
No, I said. No, it isn’t.
Chapter 34
Liars lie
Why did you have to tell me that? Brand said, after he’d given his boots a long and painstaking inspection. I told you how much they want girls.
Breeders, I said.
It might have been a trick of the light, but he seemed to wince.
If they’re going to make us strip, you’re going to find out soon enough, I said.
Why tell me now? he said. He really looked angry for some reason.
Because I’ll make you a deal, I said. You’re a trader, right?
Griz, he said. These Cons, they’re…
I know what breeding means, I said. I don’t think he heard the crack in my voice. You’re still thinking I’m a young kid because my beard hasn’t come in. I’m older than you think, remember?
He nodded. I’ve never seen a face that split the way his did. Like half of it was fascinated and couldn’t tear itself away, and the other half wanted to be anywhere but where it was.
So, I want to make a trade, I said.
Griz, all that you’ve got to trade, they’re going to take anyway, he said.
Here’s the deal, I said. They’re going to see I’m a girl. Then they’re going to wait and see if I’ve got la pest.
La what? he said.
The plague, I said, moving on fast before he started asking questions that would lead to my time with John Dark. Once I’m out of quarantine, they’re going to want me as one of their breeders, right?
Right, he said. I’m sorry.
He looked so hangdog I wanted to believe him. Almost did.
So there’s nothing we can do about that, I said. That’s just going to happen.
Again I think he missed the shake in my voice. I cleared my throat to cover up and make sure.
The deal is this: when I’m out, and not locked up in here, you steal me and take me home.
He stared at me.
You think I’m a better man than I am, he said.
I do, I said. I think you’re a better man than you think you are.
I hadn’t listened to him without learning a few tricks. A little sweetness to ease things along. No harm in making him feel good about himself.
But that’s not what I’m relying on, I said. What I’m relying on is you doing what’s best for you. Making a better trade than they could offer you for anything.
Like what? he said
You know the other thing you don’t know about me, I said, reaching inside my shirt. What else you don’t know about my family?
No, he said.
No, you don’t, I said, and I pulled out the key and showed him.
We’re Freemen.
I showed him the symbol on the key.
Do you know what this symbol means?
He leant forward and stared at it.
Infinity, he said. And the moment he did, I realised that the eight was in fact not an eight at all, but meant to be read on its side, not standing up. It was the symbol for infinity.
How do you know? I said.
Because I’ve seen it before, he said. It means infinite in all directions.
Exactly, I said. And do you know what lies behind the doors this can open?
Dead electric brains, he said. Broken computers.
No, I said. Not everywhere. You save me, I’ll take you to a place where medicines are stocked that still work. Where there is some old tech that still functions.
He stared at me.
Or leave me here and I’ll make the same deal with them, I said. I’d rather you helped me, because you’ve got a boat, but I can take them the long way overland and I’m sure that’ll be fine too.
Old tech that works, he said. Like what?
Screens that move, show pictures and stories. Little computers that still compute. Electric compasses, binoculars that pull the horizon into your lap and make pictures of it you can look at later. Music players.
I was running out of things to tempt him with.
You think that I would need a trade to try and help you, he said. His voice sounded a little hurt.
Yes, I said. You told me. You’re a trader. This is a good trade.
You don’t think I would try and help you just because these are bad people? he said.
I’d like to, I said. I’d really like to. In fact you have no idea how much I’
d like to. But my experiences with you so far don’t make me think that’d be a good idea. And like you said, I’m not a fool.
He stared at me.
You were at least correct about that one thing, I said.
He took a deep breath.
This is going to take some doing, he said. And we’re going to have to work out how to play this before they get here.
You’re right, I said.
Music players? he said.
I nodded.
He was hooked.
Chapter 35
A choice made
Until I met Brand, I didn’t think I’d met anyone who told lies. As a result, I wasn’t very good at knowing how to deal with them. But that was then. This is now, and here’s what I know about them: when liars say they’re going to tell you the truth, it’s time to listen extra carefully to their stories—not because they’re going to try and hide the truth inside them, but because the truth’s not going to be there at all. The real truth is going to be in the things they don’t mention. So if you listen to the shape of their lie, you can see the room it takes up, and then you look for the truth in the empty spaces in between.
You used the map to get here, said Brand.
Yes, I said.
And where is it now? he said.
It doesn’t matter, I said. I didn’t want to tell him or anyone about Jip and the horses. Not yet. Not until I had to.
You can’t let them find it, he said. I’m serious.
Okay, I said. They’re not going to find it. Not unless I tell them where it is.
If I told them where to go to untie Jip and see to the horses, they would find it. I couldn’t imagine they wouldn’t look through my bags. I just didn’t see any point telling him that. He looked at me and shook his head. I suppose liars are good at spotting other lies and half-truths.
Griz, he said, if they find that map, you’re dead.
That’s not a very good way to start our agreement, I said. Not by threatening me.
I’m not threatening, he said. I’m warning. I’m trying to help. If they find that map in your possession, they are going to think you did something very bad. And they will punish you for it.
I thought for a bit. Trying to see the shape of what he was saying.
You mean you did something bad, I said. I took the map from you. If it’s evidence that you did something bad, I’ll just tell them that.
And I’ll tell them you’re lying, he said. I wouldn’t want to, but if you told them that, I’d have to. Just a matter of survival.
Your word against mine, I said.
They know me, he said. They trust me. I bring them stuff they like. Stuff they need. They found you sneaking around. Hiding things from them.
Like being a girl, I said.
That, he said, but mostly I meant being a Freeman.
I wondered then if I’d fallen into a trap of my own digging.
Last Freeman came through here killed people they cared about, he said. So they’re not going to be much disposed to like you or what you have to say. But, Griz…
He seemed like he was in mild pain as he paused and looked at me.
Griz, he said. This is a stupid conversation. We’re on the same side. I’d never betray you. Unless you betrayed me first. That’s all I’m saying. And like I tried to tell you—keeping the map out of their hands is just a matter of survival.
Sometimes Jip or Jess will look at me and make their eyes big, and it usually means they want some food but can’t get it, like if we’re on the boat and they can’t hunt their own meat. That’s what his eyes looked like. Soft and warm, despite the blueness of them. I made myself remember how quickly they could turn wintry.
Who died? I said.
I could make my eyes go wintry too.
I didn’t say anything else. I just waited him out. And he always hated silence. So eventually he moved closer, holding his hands open and palm up to show he meant no threat, and then he began to tell me another story, speaking quietly as if afraid someone outside might hear.
I told you they’re scared of long voyages, he said. The ones they used to take, raiding for girls.
Yes, I said. You said the three men who did them sailed away and never came back, because of a storm.
I never said it was three men, he said. Interesting you think that. No, it was two men and a woman. The woman was the best sailor, and she also put people at ease when they met them as strangers. She would talk to the girls and the men, and both would like her for different reasons. She was the one made the marks on the map.
I looked at him, betraying myself a little.
You thought they were my marks, he said. Is that right?
I still do, I said. I had seen the pencil line marking his passage to our island. I didn’t know why he would be lying about this but I was sure it’d become apparent if he carried on talking.
That map is theirs, he said. The three sailors. It shows where they went. If you were on the Falki, I would show you.
What’s the Falki? I said.
My boat, he said. I have the other maps hidden there.
Hidden? I said.
I told you, he said, it would not be good for them to be found. But they are maps of their travels.
So they didn’t drown, I said.
He moved a little closer.
No, he said. They didn’t drown. They got to their destination safely enough. They just didn’t leave it.
And then he told me another story.
He told me it was the real truth. I don’t know if it is. The Conservators had come to the house that was his real home on the Swedish archipelago, seemingly to trade but actually to take the pale girls who were his sisters. And he and his kin had stopped them, because they were not fools.
They came, they stayed, they ate with us, they asked if we’d like to come join their settlement—and when we said no, we liked it where we were, they left friendly. And then they came back after dark, he said. Nothing friendlike in their hearts. Carrying weapons in their fists. And handcuffs. They said they just wanted one girl. They called it a “tithe”. Do you know what a tithe is?
No, I said.
It’s like a bribe, he said. Like they used to take taxes from people or they’d put them in prison if they refused to pay up. Except a tithe is for gods. These people are dangerous because they think they are doing this because a god wants them to do it. It means they don’t have to think like humans.
So you killed them, I said.
No choice, he said. Even if we’d hidden—or fought them off—they’d have come back. They now knew where we lived. We liked where we live. Still do. We didn’t want to spend our lives hiding from them, moving around, living in fear of the next time they tried, of what would happen if they brought more people to help them. We had no idea how few of them there are here. That’s why I came, the first time, to see if there was a threat. That’s when I discovered they had grown afraid when the others hadn’t returned. They turned from the sea.
And you killed them, I said again. The others.
We did, he said. My sisters are strong women. They did not take well to the idea of being someone else’s breeder. I did not take well to the idea of someone stealing my sisters. Nor did my parents. Or our friends.
Friends. Parents. He had not said there were more than the pale girls when he first told the story. Now he seemed to come from a village. I didn’t say anything, but I stored the thought away. It could have been another lie.
We knew they’d come back, because there was something extra in the men’s eyes after they had met my sisters, he said. So we waited and when they slunk back, we did what we had to do. I did not like doing it, but it had to be done. It was their choice. They could have stayed away, but they came back, with weapons and handcuffs.
All that and yet you thought you could steal my dog and no one would follow you, I said.
A dog is not a sister, he said.
No, I said. But it’s still family.
&nbs
p; And then things went quiet between us for a long time, and eventually he walked off and lay down in his own cell across the way, and seemed to do nothing but stare at the ceiling.
You think I’m a bad man, he said after a while.
I didn’t answer. I could see no point. I was too busy trying to figure out what to do. If I told them to go and look after Jip and the horses, they would then find the map and that would not be good, because there was no way of knowing how they would react to it. It was a sort of proof that the holder of the map might well have been involved in the death and disappearance of their loved ones. But if I didn’t tell them, and I was unable to escape in time, then the horses and Jip would die, tied up and hobbled. And in this half-buried bunker with concrete walls, barred windows and a locked gate, I didn’t think an escape would be a quick thing, even if it was eventually possible.
The choice was of course not a hard one. I knew what I had to do, but the tough thinking was all about the how of doing it. I was struggling. I tried to keep believing that if I was just calm and clever enough there would be a way to do this. Without it being more disastrous than it had to be. Because Brand was right. They would believe him long before they believed me. And since it looked like I was going to have to rely on him to help me escape this place once quarantine was over, it didn’t make much sense to betray him or even make them distrust him a little bit more than they might already do. I had seen that one of the men who had brought the food liked him but that the other was not as friendly. There was no point in feeding the second one’s misgivings.
My feelings about Brand at that point could be neatly summed up by my wanting to cross the hall and slam the door on his cell tight shut, just as we had been warned not to do, locking him away behind a door that had no key. I thought it would serve him right, and I also thought I would be spared the distraction of his company. I don’t imagine many other people could have thrown themselves on a bed and stared silently at the ceiling in such an irritatingly conspicuous and noticeable way. It was almost childish, as if he—the thief—was resenting that I—the victim—had objected to the theft and had called it for what it was.
The dog jerked me from my thoughts, her excited barks immediately recognisable.
A Boy and His Dog at the End of the World Page 28
