Nation - Пратчетт Терри Дэвид Джон - Страница 20

The old man looked crestfallen. “But this is the Nation!” he wailed. “An island of stone, beloved of the gods! I trained as a priest here. All the time I paddled I was thinking, the Nation will have survived! And there’s just a boy and a cursed girl from the unbaked people?”

“Unbaked?”

“Have you been taught nothing? Imo made them first, when He was learning, but He did not leave them long enough in the sun. And you will learn that they are so proud, they cover themselves in the sun. They really are very stupid, too.”

They have more colors than we do, Mau thought, but he didn’t say so.

“My name is Mau,” he said, because at least that wouldn’t start an argument.

“And I must speak to your chief. Run, boy. Tell him my name. He may have heard of Ataba the priest.” There was a sad but hopeful sound to that last sentence, as if the old man thought this was not very likely.

“There is no chief, not since the wave. It brought the trouserman girl here, and everyone else it… took away. I did tell you, sir.”

“But this is such a big island!”

“I don’t think the wave cared.”

The baby started to cry. Daphne tried to cuddle it without getting too close, and made embarrassed shushing noises.

“Then an older man — ” Ataba began.

“There isn’t anyone,” said Mau patiently. “There’s just me and the trouserman girl.” He wondered how many times he would have to say this before the old man managed to find the right-shaped space for it in his bald head.

“Only you?” said Ataba, looking bewildered.

“Believe me, sir, sometimes I don’t believe it either,” Mau said. “I think I’ll wake up and it will all be a dream.”

“You had the wonderful white god anchors,” said the old man. “I was brought here to see them when I was a small boy, and that was when I decided I wanted to be a — ”

“I think I’d better give this little boy back to his mummy,” said Daphne quickly. Mau didn’t understand the words, but the tone of determination translated itself very well. The baby was screaming.

“His mother cannot feed him,” said Ataba to Mau. “I found her on a big raft with the child, only yesterday. There was food on it, but she wouldn’t eat and the child takes no nourishment from her. It will die soon.”

Mau looked at the little bawling face, and thought: No. Does not happen.

He caught the ghost girl’s eye, pointed to the baby, and made eating motions with his mouth.

“You eat babies?” said Daphne, stepping back. Mau picked up the tone of horror, and it took a lot of creative miming to get her to understand that the one who was going to be fed was the baby.

“What?” said Daphne. “Feed it? What with?”

Oh, well, Mau thought, the baby is screaming and I’m in trouble whatever happens. But… does not happen. He waved vaguely at her flat chest, under its slightly grubby white frills.

Daphne went bright pink. “What? No! How dare you! You have to… ” She hesitated. She wasn’t really sure about this, since everything she knew on the subject of the lumps at the front was based on an overheard, giggly conversation between the housemaids that she had found unbelievable, and a strange lecture from one of her aunts, in which the phrase “when you’re old enough” had turned up a lot and the rest of it sounded unlikely.

“You have to be married,” she said firmly. It didn’t matter that he didn’t understand, she felt better for saying it.

“Does she know anything? Has she borne children?” said Ataba.

“I don’t think so!”

“Then there will be no milk. Please fetch another woman, one who has not long had — Oh.” The old man sagged as he remembered.

“We have food,” said Mau.

“It must be milk,” said the old man flatly. “The baby is too young for anything else.”

“Well, at least there can be a hut for the mother, up at the Women’s Place. It’s not too far. I can light a fire there,” said Mau.

“You dare to go into a Women’s Place?” The priest looked shocked, and then smiled. “Ah, I see. You are only a boy.”

“No, I left my boy soul behind me. I think the wave washed it away.”

“It washed away too many things,” said Ataba. “But you have no tattoos, not even the sunset wave. Have you learned the chants? No? No manhood feast? You were not given a man’s soul?”

“None of those.”

“And the thing with the knife where you —?”

“Not that, either,” said Mau quickly. “All I have is this.” He held out his wrist.

“The blue jade stone? They’re protection for only a day or so!”

“I know.”

“Then it could be that behind your eyes is a demon or a vengeful spirit.”

Mau thought about this. He agreed with it. “I don’t know what’s behind my eyes,” he said. “All I know is that it is very angry.”

“On the other hand, you did save us,” said the old man, smiling at him a little nervously. “That doesn’t sound like any demon I’ve ever heard of. And I hope you gave thanks to the gods for your salvation?”

“Gave… thanks?” said Mau.

“They may have plans for you,” said the priest cheerfully.

“Plans,” said Mau, his voice as cold as the dark current. “Plans? Yes, I see. Someone must be alive to bury the rest, was that it?” He took a step forward, his fists clenched.

“We cannot know the reasons for all that happ — ” Ataba began, backing away.

“I saw their faces! I sent them into the dark water! I tied small stones to little bodies. The wave took everyone I love, and everything I am wants to know why!”

“Why did the wave spare you? Why did it spare me? Why did it spare that baby which will die soon enough? Why does it rain? How many stars are in the sky? We cannot know these things! Just be thankful that the gods spared your life!” shouted the old man.

“I will not! To thank them for my life means I thank them for the deaths. I want to find reasons. I want to understand the reasons! But I can’t because there are no reasons. Things happen or do not happen, and that is all there is!”

The roar of the Grandfathers’ anger in Mau’s head was so loud that he wondered why Ataba didn’t hear it.

YOU SCREAM OUT AGAINST THE GODS, BOY. YOU KNOW NOTHING. YOU WILL BRING DOWN THE WORLD. YOU WILL DESTROY THE NATION. ASK FORGIVENESS OF IMO.

“I will not! He gave this world to Locaha!” roared Mau. “Let him ask forgiveness of the dead. Let him ask forgiveness of me. But don’t tell me that I am supposed to thank the gods that I’m alive to remember that everyone else died!”

Someone was shaking Mau, but it seemed to be happening to another person, a long way off.

“Stop this! You’re making the baby cry!” Mau stared at Daphne’s furious face. “Baby, food,” she said insistently. Her meaning was very clear, even if he didn’t understand the actual words.

Did she think he was a magician? Women fed babies, everyone knew that! There was no milk on the island. Didn’t she understand? There was no — He stopped, because a bit of his raging brain had just opened up and was showing him pictures. He stared at them, and thought: Could that work? Yes, there it was, the silver thread to a small part of the future. It might work. It had to work.

“Baby, food!” Daphne repeated insistently, giving him another shake.

He gently pushed her arms out of the way. This needed thinking about, and careful planning. The old man was looking at him as if he were on fire, and he stepped back quickly when Mau picked up his fish spear and strode into the lagoon. At least he tried to make it look like a good manly stride, but inside his mind was full of rage.

Were the Grandfathers mad? Was Ataba mad? Did they really think he should thank the gods for his life? If it hadn’t been for the ghost girl, he’d have taken himself to the dark water!

Babies and milk was a smaller problem, but it was noisier, and closer to hand. He could see the answer. He could see a little picture of how it would have to work. It depended on many things. But there was a path. If he followed the steps, there should be milk. And it had to be easier to get milk for a baby than to understand the nature of the gods.