Nation - Пратчетт Терри Дэвид Джон. Страница 39

Cahle gave her a little smile and went over to Mrs. Gurgle, who was squatting by the fire. Baskets of dried… things had been brought down from their hanging place in one of the huts, and Daphne knew the rule: the nastier and more dangerous, the higher. These had practically been on the roof.

When Cahle spoke to her, acting like a pupil talking to a respected teacher, the old woman stopped sniffing at a handful of what looked like dusty bean pods and looked across at Daphne. There was no smile or wave. This was Mrs. Gurgle at work. She said something out of the corner of her mouth and threw all the pods into the little three-legged cauldron in front of her.

Cahle came back. “She says safe is not sure. Sure not safe. There is just do, or do not do.”

I was drowning, and he saved me, thought Daphne. Why did I ask that stupid question?

“Make it sure,” she said. “Really sure.” On the other side of the room, Mrs. Gurgle grinned. “Can I ask another question? When I’m… you know, there, what should I do? Is there anything I should say?”

The reply came back: “Do what is best. Say what is right.” And that was it. Mrs. Gurgle did not go in for long explanations.

When the old woman hobbled across with half an oyster shell, Cahle said: “You must lick up what is on the shell and lie back. When the drop of water hits your face you… will wake up.”

Mrs. Gurgle gently put the shell in Daphne’s hand and made a very short speech.

“She says you will come back because you have very good teeth,” Cahle volunteered.

Daphne looked at the half shell. It was a dull white, and empty except for two little greeny-yellow blobs. It didn’t seem much for all that effort. She held it close to her mouth and looked up at Cahle. The woman had put her hand in a gourd of water, and now she held it high over Daphne’s mat. She looked down with a drop of water glistening on the end of her finger.

“Now,” she said.

Daphne licked the shell (it tasted of nothing) and let herself fall back.

And then there was the moment of horror. Even as her head hit the mat, the drop of water was falling toward it.

She tried to shout, “That’s not enough ti — ”

And then there was darkness, and the boom of the waves overhead.

Mau ran onward, but the voice of Locaha still sounded very close.

Are you tiring, Mau? Do your legs ache for rest?

“No!” said Mau. “But… these rules. What are they?”

Oh, Mau… I only agreed there must be rules. That doesn’t mean I have to tell you what they are.

“But you must catch me, yes?”

You are correct in your surmise, said Locaha.

“What does that mean?”

You guessed right. Are you sure you are not tiring?

“Yes!”

In fact strength flowed into Mau’s legs. He had never felt so alive. The pillars were going past faster now. He was overtaking the fish, which panicked away, leaving silvery trails. And there was light on the dark horizon. It looked like buildings, like white buildings as big as the ones Pilu had told him about in Port Mercia. What were buildings doing down here?

Something white flashed past under his feet. He glanced down and almost stumbled. He was running over white blocks. They were blurred by his speed, and he didn’t dare to slow down, but they looked exactly the right size to be god anchors.

This is wonderful, wonderful, said Locaha. Mau, did you bother to wonder if you are running the wrong way?

Two voices had said those words and now arms grabbed him.

“This way!” screamed Daphne, right in his ear as she tugged him back the way he had come. “Why didn’t you hear me?”

“But — ” Mau began, straining to look back at the white buildings. There was something like a twist of smoke coming out of them… or perhaps it was a clump of weeds, flapping in the current… or a ray, skimming toward them.

“I said this way! Do you want to die forever? Run! Run!”

But where was the speed in his legs? It was like running through water now, real water. He looked at Daphne, who was half towing him.

“How did you get here?”

“Apparently I’m dead — will you try to keep up! And whatever you do, don’t look back!”

“Why not?”

“Because I just did! Run faster!”

“Are you really dead?”

“Yes, but I’m due to get well soon. Come on, Mrs. Gurgle! The drop was falling!”

Silence fell like a hammer made of feathers. It left holes in the shape of the sound of the sea.

They stopped running, not because they intended to, but because they had to. Mau’s feet hung uselessly above the ground. The air turned gray.

“We are in the steps of Locaha,” he said. “He has spread his wings over us.”

Words seized Daphne’s tongue. It was only a few weeks since she’d heard them before, at the funeral of Cabin Boy Scatterling, who had been killed in the mutiny. He’d had red hair and pimples and she hadn’t liked him much, but she’d cried when the sailcloth-wrapped body had disappeared under the waves. Captain Roberts was a member of the Conducive Brethren, who accepted a version of the Gospel of St. Mary Magdalene as, well, gospel.[!Daphne was quite sure that there had been a female disciple because, as she explained to a surprised Captain Roberts, “Our Lord is always shown wearing white, and someone must have seen to it that he always had a clean robe.”!] She’d never heard this piece read down at Holy Trinity, but she had tucked it into her memory and now it came out, screamed like a battle cry:

“Mrs. Gur —!”

CHAPTER 9

Rolling the Stone

WATER SPLASHED ON DAPHNE’S face. She opened her eyes, and her mouth said: “ — gle!”

Cahle and the old woman looked down on her, smiling. As she blinked in the light, she felt Mrs. Gurgle gently pulling something out of her hair. But something else was happening. Memory was flowing out of her mind in a tide. The face of death… the great pillars of the world… the white slabs… they sped into the past like silver fish, fading as they went.

She turned to the mat beside her. Mau lay still and snored.

No reason to get excited, she thought, feeling a little lightheaded. He had been so cold, and she’d brought him up here to keep him warm. There had been… something that happened. The shape of it was still in her head, but she couldn’t fill it in. Except… “There was a silver fish?” she wondered aloud.

Mrs. Gurgle looked very surprised and said something to Cahle, who smiled and nodded.

“She says you are indeed a woman of power,” Cahle said. “You pulled him out of a dark dream.”

“I did? I can’t remember. But there was a fish in it.”

The hole in her memory was still there when Cahle had gone, and there was still a fish in it. Something big and important had happened and she had been there, and all she could remember was that there had been a fish in it?

Mrs. Gurgle had curled up in her corner, and it looked as if she was asleep. Daphne was certain that she wasn’t. She’d be peeking through eyelids that were almost closed and listening so hard that her ears would try to flap. All the women took far too much interest in her and Mau. It was like the maids back home gossiping. It was silly and quite unnecessary, it really was!

Mau looked quite small on the mat. The twitching had stopped, but he had curled up in a ball. It was a shock, now, to see him so still.

“Ermintrude,” said her voice in the air.

“Yes,” she said, and added, “You are me, aren’t you?”