Walking Mountain Page 10

  ‘Shut up and follow my lead.’ The big man beamed suddenly at the Protector, holding out his hands in welcome. ‘Good day to you, Officer! I’m Klepsang Zale and this is my good wife, Ma Likpa. What seems to be the trouble?’

  ‘Those are the ones! I’m sure of it!’ It was the fat woman in the tight black dress, the one who had shown such interest in them in the shop. ‘I saw them with my own eyes, bold as brass, loitering in a shop without clear and visible adult oversight. They need to be protected.’ The woman’s chins wobbled as she nodded vigorously.

  Klepsang chuckled.

  ‘Oh, but there’s been a mistake,’ he said amiably. ‘They’ve got oversight. They’re ours, Officer. Our children.’

  ‘WHAT?’ exclaimed Ma. She was clearly astonished, but she didn’t let go of Pema. Even if she had, he would have just stood there anyway with his mouth hanging open.

  ‘You must excuse my wife, Officer, she’s a bit deaf.’ The big man turned and bellowed, ‘I WAS EXPLAINING TO THIS FINE PROTECTOR HERE THAT THESE ARE OUR CHILDREN.’ Out of sight of the Protector he was winking madly at Ma Likpa. ‘All three of them,’ he added.

  The Protector’s eyes narrowed. He bent to peer at Rose more closely. ‘They don’t look like you,’ he said, drawing his whip through his fingers in a speculating sort of way that made Pema’s skin crawl.

  ‘That’s because they’re adopted, Officer. We weren’t blessed with kiddies of our own.’ The big man gestured behind his hand at his wife and added in a loud stage whisper, ‘Women’s troubles.’ Ma’s grip on Pema’s arm tightened agonisingly, but she continued to smirk innocently at the world in general.

  ‘No need to adopt children when we’ve got the Protectors,’ muttered the fat woman in the black dress sullenly. She wasn’t going to let her commission go without a fight.

  The Protector ignored her.

  ‘I heard your wife shouting at that one as I came near,’ he said stolidly, pointing at Pema.

  ‘A parent’s prerogative.’

  ‘She called him a flea-bitten filcher.’

  ‘A family nickname. Against which there are no laws, am I right?’ Klepsang pretend-cuffed Pema round the ear, gave Singay a quick hug and looked a bit doubtfully at Rose.

  For a long, disconcerting moment the Protector just stared at them. Then, with a shrug, he put his whip away and stepped back.

  ‘You may carry on,’ he said.

  The fat woman in black clucked her tongue loudly in annoyance and waddled away, sweating and disappointed. Klepsang grinned. He bowed to the Protector obsequiously before turning to Pema.

  ‘Get them on board if you value your freedom,’ he hissed in Pema’s ear, detaching him from his wife and giving him a less than gentle shove in the direction of the penned grunts.

  Pema looked helplessly at Singay and Rose, but the Protector was still standing there. What else can I do?

  The escaped grunt trotting happily by his side, he went over to the corral and chirruped to the churning herd. A large female pushed her way through the others and stuck her nose through the fencing at him. He chirruped her round to the river side of the corral and opened the barrier. A polite invitation was issued and accepted, and together Pema and the lead animal – the matriarch – crossed to the gangway and walked sedately aboard. The rest of the herd came quietly, moving without fuss, though occasionally they expressed their opinion of piers and corrals and barges generally by lifting their tails and depositing large, wet, noisome grunt pats. Singay and Rose followed, placing their feet carefully and trying to look as if they were a useful part of the process.

  Last to board were their unlikely saviours, the big man all smug and bland, his sharp-faced wife narrow-eyed and furious.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Happy Families

  ‘So, husband,’ Ma snarled under her breath, ‘perhaps you’d like to tell me now what this little charade is all about?’ They were standing on the deck by the grunt pens while Pema and Singay filled the troughs with water and Rose got in the way. ‘Or am I just to accept that you’ve suddenly got the brain-rot and we’ve got three extra mouths to feed?’

  Klepsang gave his wife an unloving look. ‘Use your wits, my dear. If you can find any. You only have to look at the tall boy to see he’s one of the High Land freaks. And you saw what he did with that blasted grunt on the pier. Everyone knows High Landers can talk to animals. They can get any old beast to do any old thing. On to a boat. Off of a boat. Across the Overland . . .’

  He paused and let Ma’s considerable cunning catch up. In spite of his rude comments, Klepsang had a healthy respect for his spouse’s remarkable cold-blooded deviousness.

  ‘Ah,’ she said slowly, nodding her head. ‘So, we protect them from the Protectors and the freak gets the meat to Cliffton for us, where we’ll get twice the price we could get in a dump like The Smoke. Are you thinking we wouldn’t have to pay him very much? Is that what you’re thinking?’

  ‘Not exactly. What I was thinking was that they would pay us.’

  Ma sucked her teeth appreciatively. ‘That would be a much better thing – for the children as well. For isn’t it the truth that people don’t value something properly unless they’ve paid for it?’

  ‘It is, my dear, it is. They should thank us.’

  ‘But gratitude’s not a stable currency. Neither’s fear if they figure out that the Protectors don’t work beyond The Smoke. People might turn them against us. People always do.’

  ‘Not if we make sure they can’t. We’re going to be such good friends to these strays that they won’t be speaking to another soul.’

  Ma looked up at her husband with a thoroughly unpleasant smile. ‘Such good friends,’ she agreed, and licked her thin lips.

  Meanwhile, as they worked, ‘the strays’ were conferring together too.

  ‘Do you have any idea what just happened?’ Singay whispered urgently, as she emptied another bucket into the trough.

  Pema shook his head.

  ‘Pema – are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ But he was feeling completely wrung out.

  It always happened when he lost his temper. One minute he could take on the world and the next he went like an overcooked noodle. He scratched the nearest grunt behind the ears.

  ‘Do you think they’re just really kind people who have decided to help us out of the goodness of their hearts?’ suggested Rose hopefully.

  ‘No!’ said Singay and Pema in chorus.

  ‘No,’ repeated Singay. ‘They want something all right.

  What I can’t figure is what.’

  Pema looked up, and gave her a warning nudge. ‘I think we’re about to find out,’ he muttered.

  ‘This way, children. Mummy and Daddy want a word with you.’ Klepsang loomed, and pointed to the prow of the barge.

  Snows, he’s so BIG! thought Pema. His mouth went dry every time he looked at the man’s bull shoulders and huge fists.

  All around, the other passengers were milling about, settling themselves here and there on the broad deck, and the captain was shouting orders in preparation for casting off. No one was at the prow, however, and they could talk there without being overheard.

  Klepsang pointed a sudden sausage finger at them. ‘We put ourselves on the line there for you, I hope you realise!’ he hissed belligerently. ‘Do you have any idea how much trouble we could get into, lying to keep you clear of the Protectors? Give me one good reason why we should go on doing that. Eh? EH?’

  Singay, Rose and Pema huddled closer together like nervous mice.

  ‘Now, now, dear, you’ll frighten them,’ Ma Likpa said in a voice like warm grease. ‘But he’s right, you know. You’ll just have to tell us everything.’

  They had their story ready and Singay told it well – their mother dead, their father remarried, an evil step-mother, the need to get as far away from her threats and beatings as they could, even as far as the Sea.

  ‘Oh, Klepsang!’ shrieked Ma Likpa, putting her
hands up to her cheeks in horror. ‘They’re going to cross the Overland! I can’t bear it! These dear young people and that dear little boy, on that awful, awful road!’

  ‘Um . . .’ said Pema.

  Ignoring him, Klepsang patted his wife consolingly on the shoulder. ‘Now, now, my dear, you mustn’t think of that. I’m sure they have made some arrangements. Of course they aren’t thinking of travelling on their own.’

  ‘Er . . .’ said Singay.

  Klepsang Zale sucked his teeth portentously. ‘Oh no, no, no, that’s not a good idea. You can’t be aware of the dangers of the Overland if that’s what you considering.’

  ‘Do they even know what the Overland is, husband dear?’

  ‘Uh . . .’ said Pema.

  So Klepsang told them.

  It would seem that, at The Smoke, the River disappeared into a great canyon. There were terrible rapids for a long way, and no boat could navigate them.

  ‘From there to the next big place, called Cliffton, we must travel along a high, barren plateau, on a horrible, dry, dangerous road. That’s the Overland.’

  ‘Dangerous?’ said Pema.

  ‘Yes. And not just the Protectors. There are wild animals that live on the Overland plateau – wulfs and scorplions and tarantellas – or you might wander off the road and die of hunger and thirst. Even that’s not the worst. There’s also . . .’ Klepsang lowered his voice ominously, ‘. . . the Jathang.’

  ‘What’s the Jathang?’ asked Rose, his eyes wide.

  ‘Oh, don’t tell them, Klepsang!’ Ma squealed like a stuck grunt. ‘Don’t tell them – it’s not fitting!’

  ‘All right, all right, don’t fret so. I won’t. I won’t tell them about those vicious, ruthless, thieving, maiming, baby-eating savages, who lurk in a place no decent person could survive in. But you know, an idea has just come to me, and I’m sure you, my dear, who have such a kind nature, will agree to it with all your heart.’ He smiled at Ma, who simpered back.

  ‘What idea is that, dear?’ she said. ‘Do tell us.’

  So he did. He told them all about his idea of taking the three waifs along with him, providing them with his protection on the dangerous, deadly Overland, for a laughably small fee – his wife’s kind heart wouldn’t hear of charging more, he was sure, but he knew better than to embarrass them by asking any less.

  ‘And if any of you felt you’d like to lend a hand, maybe, with the beasts, well, that might ease any feelings of being beholden you’ll doubtless be harbouring.’ His smile showed all his teeth.

  Pema’s heart sank. There was nothing about these people that he trusted. But what else can we do? He looked at the others. Rose nodded. Singay shrugged.

  ‘All right,’ Pema said hesitantly.

  The big man grabbed his hand, swamping it in his own, and pumped it up and down.

  ‘It’s a deal,’ said Klepsang Zale.

  Looking disconcertingly smug, the couple began to walk away. Then, as if as an afterthought, they turned back.

  ‘Just a word of advice, though, dears,’ said Ma. ‘I wouldn’t do too much talking with the other passengers if I were you. Somebody might just get a bit too curious. If they don’t talk to you there’s no way they can find out that you’re not who we say you are. That you’re not our lovely little adopted family.’

  ‘Why do they really not want us talking to the other passengers?’ muttered Singay, wiping the sweat from her face. ‘I can’t believe it’s because they think we’ll suddenly start blabbing, “Hello, my name’s Singay, and by the way, that big creep’s not really my father.”’

  Pema shrugged, and dumped another scoop of grunt dung into the bucket.

  ‘Does it matter? It’s not as if we have any time to talk to anybody anyway.’

  Ma and Klepsang were extracting every ounce of work they could out of Pema and Singay, while maintaining the illusion, for anyone who cared to look, that they were loving and attentive parents.

  Rose, however, was a different kettle of fish.

  ‘That is one ugly little boy!’ said Ma to her husband. ‘There’s something really wrong about him.’ She wrinkled her sharp nose with distaste.

  ‘What do you expect? He’s a freak.’ Klepsang wasn’t bothered. ‘We won’t get any useful work out of him, from the size of him, but what can you do? He’s part of the package. And we can charge for him, dead weight or not.’

  ‘Well, as long as he stays away from me.’

  So Singay and Pema mucked out the grunts, and fed and watered the grunts, and pulled up buckets of river water to throw over the grunts to keep them happy and cool. And Rose spent his time in the bow, looking south, leaning forward as if by doing so he could get there one minute sooner.

  On either side of the River there were rolling hills and rich fields of crops, many of which they didn’t recognise. The barge, propelled by teams of men with poles, passed villages and towns and clusters of houses, stopping again and again to let passengers and goods on and off. Everywhere, there were people. Pema and Singay couldn’t believe how full the Low Lands were.

  As the leagues passed, they saw signs of tremors and damage – flattened barns, jetties tilted sideways into the River, chimneys that had fallen, knocking holes in roofs. They spotted oil-engine contraptions as well. It wasn’t always clear what the machines were meant to do, and they were often lying useless when the farmers couldn’t afford to fuel them. Klepsang and Ma scolded them for pausing to stare, but they made sure they noticed the gangs of children, chained together, working the fields or being marched by on the river bank.

  The lines of mountains on either side pulled further and further apart until, one morning, Pema realised he couldn’t see them anymore.

  ‘So exciting!’ crowed Singay when he pointed it out to her.

  ‘Exciting,’ he echoed, hoping he didn’t sound as queasy as he felt.

  They speculated amongst themselves about the next stage – the Overland.

  ‘I don’t know,’ admitted Pema. ‘I thought, after the Jungle, it was Low Lands all the way – that’s how world-wise I am.’

  It seemed to go on forever. But every day, they inched closer to the Sea.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The Overland

  ‘So that’s why they call it The Smoke!’ said Singay, impressed.

  At last, a great cliff came into view, stretching away to east and west as far as the eye could see. It was monumental, massive – and yet even from where they were, raw rock showed where there had been landslides. The Smoke squatted at its foot, and towering over the town was a gigantic cloud of mist, rising up from where the River squeezed itself into a narrow canyon, wildly churning white water.

  The colossal cliff, the raging water, the rising, shifting mist – it was a breath-taking sight.

  ‘What are you gawping at?’

  For a big man, Klepsang was quiet on his feet. None of them had heard him coming. But he wasn’t looking for a chat with his counterfeit family.

  Fists on hips, he was all business. ‘We’ll be coming into Pier 3. There’s a road from there that by-passes The Smoke and heads up onto the plateau. I want us off the barge and up that cliff without any delays, so get yourselves organised now.’ He turned on his heel, then seemed to notice that his tone hadn’t exactly been that of a kindly father. He swung back with a benign smile, full of teeth, and patted Pema on the shoulder, causing him to stagger slightly. ‘Well done, son!’ he added, in case anyone was listening, and walked away.

  Singay stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

  ‘Oh well,’ said Pema, resigned. ‘Maybe it’s for the best. We’d just be tempted to spend money if we went into the town.’ After paying even the first instalment of Klepsang’s ‘laughably small fee’, their money sack was dangerously light.

  When the barge docked, Pema and the matriarch led the way. Singay and Rose followed the beasts down the gangplank, dodging dropped dung. Klepsang and Ma were already off the boat and urging them on – from the comf
ort of a donkey cart.

  ‘Where did that spring from?’ muttered Singay crossly.

  Pema pulled a sour face. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m sure we’ll be invited to ride along.’

  ‘Really?’ said Rose. ‘I’ve never ridden in a cart before!’

  ‘And I’ve never seen grunts fly, but you’ll see that before you get a lift from those two!’

  There was nothing for it but to shrug and follow on. The grunts were certainly happy to be stretching their legs after being penned for so long, and there was a lot of cheerful barging and shoving in the ranks. With Pema keeping an eye on them, though, and the matriarch occasionally throwing an admonitory cough over her shoulder, their progress was well-mannered enough.

  Then, as the road rounded the first corner of the town, they saw a cluster of sand-coloured tents, pitched on a grassy patch a little distance from the walls.

  ‘Jathang,’ muttered Ma, and spat over the side of the cart.

  Jathang!

  Their ‘parents’ had lost no opportunity on the journey to tell them horror stories about the plateau people. Now their ‘children’ stared, curious to see what such unspeakably evil people would look like.

  It was disappointing.

  ‘But they’re tiny!’ exclaimed Singay.

  They were indeed a small, tawny-coloured people – eyes, hair and skin all of the same light brown. Their clothes were tawny too, loosely-cut robes that stood out against the green grass, but would be perfect camouflage in the dry plateau above. As far as their thieving, maiming, baby-eating propensities went, they were giving nothing away.

  ‘They’re still taller than me,’ said Rose wistfully.

  ‘Nonsense – you’re the perfect height,’ said Singay. ‘That’s right,’ said Pema. ‘Just think what rubbish your cunning disguise would be if you were the size of, I don’t know, Klepsang?’

  The thought of Klepsang’s big fat body bulging out of little Rose’s clothes made them giggle. Ma Likpa didn’t know what they were laughing about, but she scowled suspiciously on principle, which just made them giggle more.

  The road skirted the town and then headed for the cliff, zigzagging up it in a series of switchbacks.