Walking Mountain Page 5

  ‘But how could you know that it would work?’ Pema asked. ‘That making a wedge like that would make the rain and all the rest?’ He stopped suddenly, appalled. I’m talking like I believe what he’s saying – at least the parts of it I understood! I’m talking like I’ve just accepted this whole, mad tale.

  ‘You know the old saying,’ said Rose. ‘“Geography makes History”. Drivers know rocks, and we found all the information we needed by listening to them. Rocks have long, long memories. They remember being a bit of debris in the blackness of space. They remember coming together with other rocks to form a planet. Heating to molten states, cooling, coalescing. Wearing away. And for most rocks, that’s all there is. But a very few are part of a world where there has been life. And the rocks remember that too. If life is destroyed, the way it was on this world after the meteor struck, then the rocks’ memories can be used to learn how to recreate what was lost. Make it so it can happen again. And, you know, the fascinating thing is that it happens faster the second time around. As if each stage of the process is able to say to itself, “Oh yes, this seems familiar. This has happened before.” Accelerated Evolution, it’s called.’

  Singay stirred restlessly. Everything the little man was saying made her stomach hurt.

  ‘Let me get this straight. You’re telling us you’re the Driver,’ she asked, speaking carefully, eyes narrowed. ‘You’re telling us you drove the Mountain up out of the Sea.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘And there were others—’

  ‘Two others, yes.’

  ‘Two others organising other mountains and the land in-between them for you to, um, drag along behind you.’

  ‘Pretty much. Yes.’

  ‘So there are three of you, altogether.’

  ‘There were. Three Drivers. Always three.’

  ‘What do you mean, there were three?’ Singay asked. Pema might scold her for not being gentle enough with Rose, but she had to know. She had to know everything. ‘Aren’t there three anymore? Did something happen to the others?’

  Rose’s eyes welled up, and a single silver tear rolled down his cheek. ‘I don’t know. But, for quite some time, I haven’t been able to hear them.’

  ‘Hear them?’

  ‘I’m sorry – so much to explain!’ He wrung his silvery hands. ‘You must understand, when I say we hear each other, it isn’t as if we can talk to each other, the way I’m talking to you now. But still we are aware – yes, that’s a better way of putting it. I had an awareness of them. And then I started to lose it.’ Rose looked bleak. ‘For a long time, it was just gradual. You see, it wasn’t so much that they stopped, but that more and more of something else started. My guess is that some new activity in the rocks somewhere between here and the Sea started, but I don’t know what. It’s like . . . it’s like when a bird is singing, you can hear it, and you can tell where the sound’s coming from, right? But if there are a hundred birds singing, you couldn’t possibly pick out that one bird anymore, could you? That bird could still be singing, but you wouldn’t know.’ He added wistfully, ‘We have beautiful birds on Homeworld. So beautiful.’

  ‘And I guess they can’t tell if you’re there anymore, I mean, here anymore, either?’ said Pema tentatively. ‘I mean, Singay heard you crying, but that’s a different thing?’

  Rose nodded miserably, and then a strangely haunted look came over his silvery face. ‘Though I don’t lose hope, of course. That would be fatal.’

  It sounded an odd thing to say, but Singay was already pursuing another thought.

  ‘Maybe they just left,’ she said bluntly. ‘Drove home.’

  ‘Singay!’ Pema was shocked at her tactlessness, but Rose just shook his head.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘They haven’t left.’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ Singay persisted stubbornly, though she could feel herself turning red at Pema’s rebuke. ‘All those years sitting at the bottom of the ocean – maybe they got fed up and flew away. I know I would. Especially if they thought you were dead. They’d be daft not to leave then.’

  ‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Rose. ‘It takes three to drive a comet. So, without me, they couldn’t leave.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Singay.

  ‘It was so gradual for such a long time and then, suddenly, I realised I was on my own, holding everything. On my own. I’m so sorry. For . . . for everything. I . . . It’s the mountains. I think they’re trying to revert.’

  There was a horrified pause.

  ‘What do you mean, revert?’ said Pema. His mouth was suddenly dry.

  ‘I mean go back to what they were. Where they were. Return to their original components. Their original place.’

  ‘Under the Sea?’

  Rose nodded.

  ‘But . . .’ He grabbed Rose’s arm. ‘But if all the land goes back into the Sea everyone will die! Again!’

  ‘Yes. I know.’

  ‘But can’t you fix the mountains somehow? Permanently? You’re a Driver – can’t you make it so they stay the way they are?’ Pema realised he was shaking the little man, and abruptly let go.

  Rose drooped. ‘I can’t. Not alone. If I were back with the others, the three of us would be able to ground the mountains properly, once and for all. Now, all I can do is do my best is to keep things steady. Amelia’s the one who’s in charge, really.’

  ‘Amelia?’

  ‘Such a nice name!’ Rose gave a sad little smile. ‘I gave us all names, you know. Amelia is the oldest. She’s very wise and knows an extraordinary number of things. And then there’s Trout, a lovely lad, but between you and me, ever so slightly flighty. Oh, nothing a good full Circuit won’t fix, but still, he really is a bit silly, even for such a youngster. He’d be the first to admit it – it’s one of the main reasons he volunteered to come with us. He thought it might steady him down a little, to commit to a reconstruction like this . . . Dear Trout.’

  ‘Rose, there’s a thing I don’t understand,’ began Pema.

  ‘Oh?’ muttered Singay. ‘Just one thing?’

  Pema ignored her. ‘Why you haven’t gone to look for them?’

  ‘I should have!’ Rose hung his head. ‘I meant to. The plan had always been that as soon as Amelia felt we’d done enough – that the life that had been destroyed was firmly re-established – I was to leave the Mountain and head south to the Sea, carefully, quietly and as quickly as ever I could. Then, when I’d rejoined the others, we’d ground everything – readjust the magnetic fields so that the Mountain stood still and no new land moved out of the Sea. Then we’d get back on the comet, launch it from the seabed, and be off. Back into space. Back home. Oh, to be going home!’

  Rose looked from Pema to Singay, his strange silver eyes so sad.

  ‘But then I discovered something shameful about myself. I discovered that I’m a coward. I wanted to leave, I really did, but I hadn’t the nerve. All I could do was stay here, alone inside my mountain until . . . I mean, well, I was trapped. Because of my own cowardice.’

  ‘But what were you afraid of?’

  ‘EVERYTHING!’ Rose’s shout made Pema and Singay both jump. Then his voice dropped to a whisper. ‘Do no harm. First and foremost that’s what the Drivers who go on the Circuit have drilled into them. But if the worst happens – if harm is done and we are doing everything we can to put it right – then don’t get found out! Everyone knows what happens if we’re discovered. And outside is so big! All I could think about was how little I knew. How would I find my way? How would I know what to do? What to say? All those long leagues, on my own . . .’

  ‘I’ll take you,’ said Singay suddenly. The words were out of her mouth almost before she’d even thought them, but once said, they seemed obvious. She’d take him. Of course she would.

  ‘. . . what if they found out I was a Driver? That I was responsible? What if . . . What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’ll take you,’ Singay repeated. Her heart pounded in her chest. ‘I’ll take y
ou to the Sea.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  Singay’s Plan

  Rose stared. ‘You will?’ he squeaked, at exactly the same moment that Pema squawked, ‘But you can’t!’

  ‘Why not?’ Singay was pleased to hear how completely calm she sounded, even though, inside her head, everything whirled.

  ‘Well, for one thing,’ spluttered Pema, ‘you don’t know the way. I bet you’ve never been out of the High Lands in your whole life!’ His hands were sweating again and he hid them behind his back.

  ‘Don’t need to know the way,’ said Singay. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of the River?’

  ‘There are lots of rivers. Which one do you mean?’ Though he knew exactly which river – there really was only one main one.

  ‘The River,’ she said scornfully. ‘The one that starts at Jungle Head! It goes all the way to the Sea, as everybody knows, so all we have to do is follow it till we get there. Simple.’

  ‘Yes. All right. But that’s beside the point, because they won’t let you. The Sisters are never going to say yes when you tell them you’re going swanning off with a – a – an alien!’

  ‘Tell them? You can’t tell them!’ yelped Rose, his eyes wide. ‘You can’t tell anyone!’

  ‘You keep saying that, but why not?’ Pema turned to him, distracted for a moment.

  ‘No, no, no,’ said Rose, wringing his hands. ‘Telling people is the worst thing you could do! I told you – the worlds that find out about Drivers always try to kill them.’

  ‘But why? It makes no sense!’

  Rose shivered. ‘No? It was our meteor that hit the earth. Our fault. Besides, for many species – most species! – finding that they aren’t who they thought they were, that their history isn’t theirs alone, that they are, in some sense, the creation of another species – these things lead to confusion and anger, violence and killing and destruction.’ He looked at them with horror in his silver eyes. ‘Don’t get found out!’

  ‘But . . .’ Pema couldn’t picture it. ‘It wouldn’t be like that here!’

  ‘Yes, it would,’ muttered Singay. ‘You’re talking like a baby. That’s exactly how it would be.’

  Pema glared at her. ‘I have no wish to offend you,’ he said, turning to Rose, ‘but you have been inside a mountain for the last whoever knows how long. You can’t possibly know what we’re like.’

  ‘Oh, don’t be so stupid!’ Singay exploded. ‘He knows because we’re just like everybody else! We think we’re special, but we’re not – I’ll bet we’re just the same as all the other worlds.’ She sounded bitter and twisted. She felt bitter and twisted. ‘If Rose says knowing the truth makes people crazy then I’ve no doubt crazy is what we’ll be. Maybe not everybody, maybe not everywhere, but enough to . . . Oh, use your head! People would be changed. They’d have lost something. You expect them to like that?’

  ‘Oh no,’ murmured Rose in distress. ‘It’s already starting.’

  Singay looked at the Driver and, with an effort, forced herself to smile.

  ‘What? Oh no, no, not really. Best of friends, us, aren’t we?’ Singay gave Pema a shove with her shoulder that practically knocked him over.

  ‘Ow! Right, yes, really, you don’t need to worry,’ he mumbled through gritted teeth. ‘Nobody’s going to kill you.’

  I wouldn’t mind killing that girl though, he thought, rubbing his arm.

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Singay firmly. ‘Now, this is what we should do. It must be almost morning by now so I’ll need to hurry. I’ll go back through the hole and collect some food and clothes and my dowry – officially it’s still mine until I take my vows. What else? Oh, right, leave a note saying I’ve left, leave a note saying Pema’s left—’

  ‘WHAT?’

  ‘Don’t start arguing again, you’ll upset Rose. Look – he’s half way under his rug again already.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Just think. Imagine you go back to the Abbey and the Great Gow corners you and says, “You there, Poomba, tell me where that ingrate Singay has gone!”’ Pema couldn’t help a weak grin at her impersonation. ‘Do you really think you’ll be able to look her in the eye and lie? A nice boy like you? Come to think of it, a nice boy like you isn’t going to let a mere girl and a terrified little alien head off by themselves either. You’ll feel obliged, I’m sure, to escort them, for the first leg at least.’ She smiled all of a sudden and Pema was struck again by how it completely changed her face. ‘Won’t you?’

  He’d never felt so hunted in his life.

  ‘My grandparents—’

  ‘Won’t be expecting you yet.’

  ‘Jeffrey—’

  ‘Can’t be moved for, oh, at least a week. And he couldn’t be in more caring hands. Sister Menpa is wonderful.’

  ‘But . . . but . . .’ He couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  ‘Don’t worry – leave everything to me,’ she said and, with a spring in her step, she was gone. He heard her footsteps echoing along the tall silver corridor, getting further and further away.

  Go after her, you fool! Stop her! But he didn’t move. All he could do was hope someone else would put a stop to her mad plan. Surely one of the Sisters was bound to see her, scurrying about in the early morning, looking all furtive and suspicious. This can’t be happening.

  The room seemed much emptier without Singay in it. And then Rose piped up, ‘Could you tell me – what’s a Jeffrey?’

  So Pema told him about the marmole, how he’d been grabbed by the ice eagle and taken to the Abbey and how Singay had yelled at Pema for throwing stones . . .

  It all seemed a long time ago now. It’s hard to believe it’s still the same day. Though, thought Pema with an enormous yawn, I guess it isn’t. It must be tomorrow by now.

  ‘You’re tired. I don’t think we can do much more until you’ve had some sleep. Let’s make up some beds, shall we?’ suggested Rose.

  It sounded like a wonderful idea. There were plenty of stripy blankets and cushions about the room. He didn’t recognise the patterns woven into them, but he was too tired to ask Rose where they’d come from.

  ‘What about you? Aren’t you sleepy?’

  Rose shook his head. ‘Drivers are more nappers, really. Except for longsleep, of course, though that isn’t something I could consider. Not having anyone to wake me, it would be much too . . .’

  Pema didn’t hear the last word. He was fast asleep.

  Singay pulled out the rock without any difficulty, stepping carefully past the sleeping birds. No one saw her as she managed her errands in the Abbey. Back in the mews, she pushed her bundles through the hole in the mountainside. At the last moment she looked back. The birds stirred slightly, turning their hooded heads blindly in her direction, but she knew they’d forget her almost immediately. She crawled through the gap, and then shoved the rock carefully back into place, flush with the wall.

  There was no question this time of leaving it loose.

  ‘Bed! Thanks, Rose, that’s just what I need,’ she said as she came back into Rose’s room. ‘I’m shattered.’

  Pema heaved himself up onto one elbow. ‘Did you see Jeffrey?’ he asked blearily.

  Singay nodded. ‘Yes, and he looked good. The wounds are clean and his nose was cold and wet.’ She flopped onto the makeshift bed and started to shuck off her shoes. ‘He’s in good hands, Pema. The best. When you come back for him, he’ll be as good as new.’

  Pema watched her. She’d said ‘when you come back’ not ‘when we come back.’

  ‘What about the Sisters?’

  A closed look came over Singay’s face. ‘That’s taken care of. They won’t worry.’ She yawned hugely, making Pema yawn too.

  ‘Time to sleep?’ suggested Rose.

  There was no argument.

  The afternoon was drawing to a close when Singay and Pema woke up. At least, Rose said it was afternoon. It was hard to tell the time, surrounded as they were by the changeless silvery light. They felt groggy and stu
pid, until the Driver suggested one last thing that woke them up abruptly.

  ‘It is sometimes my pleasure,’ he said, ‘to spend the end of the day on my observation platform, watching the sun set over the desert. I’ve always found it a very inspiring sight. I was wondering, as this is the last time, would you care to join me?’

  He was surprised at their reaction.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The View of the Desert

  High Land children always asked about the desert. It stands to reason that you couldn’t grow up in the shadow of such an enormous thing as the Mountain without wondering what was on the other side.

  ‘What’s there? What’s it like?’ little Singay and little Pema would ask.

  And the old storytellers would shake their heads and push out their lips. ‘You don’t want to know,’ they’d say. ‘You don’t want to know about that terrible place.’

  Though of course the children did want to know. And they’d wheedle and whine until they got every last detail the tellers could remember or devise.

  ‘All right, I’ll tell you, but don’t blame me if you get nightmares! This is the way it was told to me, and many a sleepless night I’ve had for thinking on it.’

  ‘Go on! Go on!’

  ‘Well, then . . . On the other side, beyond the Mountain, there’s not a blade of grass, not a single tree. There’s only the wasteland. A howling wilderness where nothing moves but the wind and the sand – and the monsters. Horrible misbirths of nature, crazed by the sun, mutated beyond a need for water in that waterless land, but not beyond a desire for it.’

  ‘No water?’ Pema would whisper.

  ‘Not a river or a pool or a stream. No mist. No rain. No snow.’

  ‘But . . . why don’t they come and get ours?’ Singay would ask.

  ‘Because . . .’ And here the teller would speak softer, no more than a murmur, so the children all had to lean in close to catch the words. ‘Because they don’t know it’s here. But someday, somehow, they’re going to find out!’