The Wind Singer. William Nicholson

Чтение книги онлайн.

Long ago

      At the time the strangers came, the Manth people were still living in the low mat-walled shelters that they had carried with them in their hunting days. The domed huts were clustered around the salt mine that was to become the source of their wealth. This was long before they had built the great city that stands above the salt caverns today. One high summer afternoon, a band of travellers came striding out of the desert plains, and made camp nearby. They wore their hair long and loose, men and women alike, and moved slowly and spoke quietly, when they spoke at all. They traded a little with the Manth, buying bread and meat and salt, paying with small silver ornaments that they themselves had made. They caused no trouble, but their near presence was somehow uncomfortable. Who were they? Where had they come from? Where were they going? Direct questions produced no answers: only a smile, a shrug, a shake of the head.

      Then the strangers were seen to be at work, building a tower. Slowly a wooden structure took shape, a platform higher than a man, on which they constructed a second narrower tower, out of timber beams and metal pipes. These pipes were all of different sizes, and bundled together, like the pipes of an organ. At their base, they opened out into a ring of metal horns. At their upper end, they funnelled together to form a single cylinder, like a neck, and then fanned out again to end in a ring of large leather scoops. When the wind blew, the scoops caught it and the entire upper structure rotated, swinging round to face the strongest gusts. The swirling air was funnelled through the neck to the ranked pipes, to emerge from the horns as a series of meaningless sounds.

      The tower had no obvious purpose of any kind. For a while it was a curiosity, and the people would stare at it as it creaked this way and that. When the wind blew hard, it made a mournful moaning that was comical at first, but soon became tiresome.

      The silent travellers offered no explanation. It seemed they had come to the settlement with the sole purpose of building this odd structure, because when it was done, they rolled up their tents and prepared to move on.

      Before leaving, their leader took out a small silver object, and climbed the tower, and inserted it into a slot in the structure’s neck. It was a tranquil summer dawn, the day the travellers departed, and the air was still. The metal pipes and horns were silent as they strode away across the desert plains. The Manth people were left as baffled as when they had arrived, staring at the overgrown scarecrow they had left behind.

      That night, as they slept, the wind began to blow, and a new sound entered their lives. They heard it in their sleep, and woke smiling, without knowing why. They gathered in the warm night air, and listened in joy and wonder.

      The wind singer was singing.

1

      Baby Pinpin makes her mark

      ‘Sagahog! Pompaprune! Saga-saga-HOG!’

      Bowman Hath lay in bed listening to the muffled sounds of his mother oathing in the bathroom next door. From far away across the roofs of the city floated the golden boom of the bell in the tower of the Imperial Palace: mmnang! mmnang! It was sounding the sixth hour, the time when all Aramanth awoke. Bowman opened his eyes and lay gazing at the daylight glowing in the tangerine curtains. He realised that he was feeling sad. What is it this time? he thought to himself. He looked ahead to the coming day in school, and his stomach tightened, the way it always did; but this was a different feeling. A kind of sorrowing, as if for something lost. But what?

      His twin sister Kestrel was still asleep in the bed next to him, within reach of his outstretched arm. He listened to her snuffly sleep-breathing for a few moments, then sent her a wake-up thought. He waited till he heard her grumpy answering groan. Then he counted silently to five, and rolled out of bed.

      Crossing the hall on the way to the bathroom, he stopped to greet his baby sister Pinpin. She was standing up in her cot in her fuzzy night-suit, sucking her thumb. Pinpin slept in the hall because there was no room for a cot in either of the two bedrooms. The apartments in Orange District were really too small for a family of five.

      ‘Hallo, Pinpin,’ he said.

      Pinpin took her thumb out of her mouth and her round face lit up with a happy smile.

      ‘Kiss,’ she said.

      Bowman kissed her.

      ‘Hug,’ she said.

      Bowman hugged her. As he cuddled her soft round body, he remembered. Today was the day of Pinpin’s first test. She was only two years old, too little to mind how well or badly she did, but from now till the day she died she would have a rating. That was what was making him sad.

      Tears started to push into Bowman’s eyes. He cried too easily, everyone told him so, but what was he to do? He felt everything too much. He didn’t mean to, but when he looked at somebody else, anybody else, he found he knew what they were feeling, and all too often it was a fear or a sadness. And then he would understand what it was they were afraid of or sad about, and he would feel it too, and he would start to cry. It was all very awkward.

      This morning what made him sad wasn’t what Pinpin was feeling now, but what he knew she would feel one day. Now there were no worries in her sunny little heart. Yet from today, she would begin, at first only dimly, but later with sharp anxiety, to fear the future. For in Aramanth, life was measured out in tests. Every test brought with it the possibility of failure, and every test successfully passed led to the next, with its renewed possibility of failure. There was no escape from it, and no end. Just thinking about it made his heart almost burst with love for his little sister. He hugged her tight as tight, and kissed and kissed her merry cheeks.

      ‘Love Pinpin,’ he said.

      ‘Love Bo,’ said Pinpin.

      A sharp rending sound came from the bathroom, followed by yet another explosion of oaths.

      ‘Sagahog! Bangaplop!’

      And then the familiar wailing lament:

      ‘O, unhappy people!’

      This had been the cry of the great prophet Ira Manth, from whom his mother was directly, though distantly, descended. The name had been passed down the family ever since, and his mother too was called Ira. When she flew into one of her rages, his father would wink at the children and say, ‘Here comes the prophetess.’

      The bathroom door now burst open, and Ira Hath herself appeared, looking flustered. Unable to find the sleeve-holes of her dressing-gown, she had fought her way into the garment by sheer fury. The sleeves hung empty on either side, and her arms stuck out through burst seams.

      ‘It’s Pinpin’s test today,’ said Bo.

      ‘It’s what?’

      Ira Hath stared for a moment. Then she took Pinpin from Bowman and in her turn held her close in her arms, as if someone was trying to take her away.

      ‘My baby,’ she said. ‘My baby.’

      At breakfast there was no reference to the test until near the end. Then their father put away his book and got up from table a little earlier than usual and said, as if to no one in particular,

      ‘I suppose we’d better get ready.’

      Kestrel looked up, her eyes bright with determination.

      ‘I’m СКАЧАТЬ