Nam Child is unhappy, she said.
There is water in the egg-bottles and food in her belly, o'wa. grunted as he sharpened his arrowhead. She has no reason to be unhappy. She pines for her own clan, H'ani whispered, and the old man did not reply. Both of them understood vividly and were silent as they remembered those they had left in shallow graves in the wilderness.
I am strong enough now, Centaine spoke aloud, and I have learned how to keep alive. I don't have to follow them any more. I could turn back to the south again alone. She stood uncertainly, imagining what it would be like, and it was that single word that decided her.
Alone, she repeated. If only Anna were still alive, if only there was somewhere out there for me to go to, then I might attempt it. And she slumped down on the beach and hugged her knees despondently. There is no way back. I just have to go on. Living each day like an animal, living like a savage, living with savages. And she looked down at the rags which barely covered her body. I just have to go on, and I don't even know where, and her despair threatened to overwhelm her completely. She had to fight it off as though it were a living adversary. I won't give in, she muttered, I just won't give in, and when this is over I will never want again. I'll never thirst and starve nor wear rags and stinking skins again. She looked down at her hands. The nails were ragged and black with dirt and broken off down to the quick. She made a fist to cover them. Never again. My son and I will never want again, I swear it. it was late afternoon when she wandered back into the primitive camp site under the dunes. H'ani looked up at her and grinned like a wizened little ape, and Centaine felt a sudden rush of affection for her.
Dear H'ani, she whispered. You're all I have got left. And the old woman scrambled to her feet and came towards her, carrying the finished necklace of ostrich shell in both hands.
She stood on tiptoe and placed the necklace carefully over Centaine's head and arranged it fussily down her bosom, cooing with self-satisfaction at her handiwork.
It's beautiful, H'ani, Centaine's voice husked. Thank you, thank you so very much, and suddenly she burst into tears. And I called you a savage. Oh, forgive me.
With Anna you are the sweetest, dearest person I've ever known. She knelt so that their faces were level and she hugged the old woman with a desperate strength, pressing her temple against H'ani's withered wrinkled cheek.
Why is she weeping? O'wa demanded from beside the fire.
Because she is happy. That, O'wa opined, is a most stupid reason. I think this female is a little moon-touched. He stood up, and still shaking his head, began the final preparations for the night's journey.
The little old people were unusually solemn, Centaine noticed, as they adjusted their cloaks and carrying satchels, and H'ani came to her and checked the sling of her bag, then knelt to adjust the canvas booties bound around Centaine's feet.
What is it? Their serious mien made Centaine uneasy.
H'ani understood the question, but did not try to explain. Instead she called Centaine and the two of them fell in behind O'wa.
O'wa raised his voice. Spirit of Moon, make a light for us in this night to show us the path. He used the cracked falsetto tone which all the spirits particularly enjoyed, and he performed a few shuffling dance steps in the sand. Spirit of Great Sun, sleep well, and when you rise tomorrow be not angry, that your anger burn us up in the singing sands. Then when we have passed safely through and have reached the sip-wells, we will dance for you and sing our thanks. He finished the short dance with a leap and a stamp of his small childlike feet. That was enough for now, a small down payment, with the balance promised when the spirits had honoured their part of the contract.
Come, old grandmother, he said. Make sure that Nam Child stays close and does not fall behind. You know that we cannot turn back to search for her if she does. And in that quick, swaying jog, he started up the slope of the beach into the mouth of the valley, just as the moon broke clear of the darkening horizon and started its journey across the starry heavens.
It was strange to travel in the night, for the desert seemed to take on new and mysterious dimensions, the dunes seemed taller and closer, decked in silver moonlight and dark purple shadows, and the valleys between them were canyons of silence, while above it all the vast panoply of the stars and the milky way and the moon were closer and brighter than Centaine had ever believed possible. She had the illusion that by simply reaching up she could pluck them down like ripe fruit from the bough.
The memory of the ocean stayed with them long after it was out of sight, the soft hiss of their footsteps in the sand seined to echo its gentle kissing surf on the yellow beaches, and the air was still cooled by its vast green waters.
They had been following the valley for almost a half of the moon's rise to its zenith when suddenly Centaine trotted into an eddy of heat. After the ocean-cooled airs it was like running into a solid barrier. Centaine gasped with surprise and H'ani murmured without breaking the rhythm of her gait, Now it begins."But they passed swiftly through it, and beyond the air was so cold by contrast that Centaine shivered and drew her cloak closer about her shoulders.
The valley twisted and as they came around the corner of a towering dune on which the moon shadows lay like bruises, the desert breathed upon them again.
Stay close, Nam Child. But the heat had a viscosity and weight so that Centaine felt that she was wading into a lava flow. At midnight it was hotter than in the boiler room at Mort Homme with the furnace stoked with oak logs, and as she breathed it into her lungs, she felt the heat entering her body like an invader, and with each breath expelled, she could feel it taking her moisture like a thief.
They paused once, only briefly, and drank from an eggbottle. Both H'ani and O'wa watched carefully as Centaine lifted it to her lips, but neither of them had to caution her now.
When the sky began to lighten, O'wa slackened his pace a little, and once or twice paused to survey the valley with a critical eye. It was obvious that he was choosing a place to wait out the day, and when at last they halted, it was close under the lee of a steep dune wall.
There was no material for a fire, and H'ani offered Centaine a piece of sun-dried fish wrapped in seaweed, but she was too tired and hot to eat and afraid also that food would increase her thirst during the day ahead. She drank her ration of water from the egg-bottle, and then wearily stood up and moved a short distance from the others. But as soon as she squatted, H'ani let out a shrill reprimand and hurried to her.
No! she repeated, and Centaine was embarrassed and confused, until the old woman fished in her satchel and brought out the dried wild gourd that she used as a bowl and ladle.
Here, this one - She proffered it to Centaine, who still did not understand. Exasperated, the old woman snatched back the gourd and holding it between her own legs urinated into it. Here, do. She offered the bowl to Centaine again.
I can't, H'ani, not in front of everybody, Centaine protested modestly.
O'wa, come here,H'ani called. Show the child."The old man came across and noisily reinforced H'anils demonstration.
Despite her embarrassment, Centaine could not help feeling a touch of envy. How much more convenient! Now, do! Rani offered her the gourd once again, and Centaine capitulated. She turned away modestly and with both the old people encouraging her loudly, she added her own tinkling stream to the communal gourd. H'ani bore it away triumphantly.
Hurry, Nam Child, she beckoned. The sun will come soon. And she showed Centaine how to scoop a shallow trench in the sand in which to lie.
The sun struck the face of the dune on the opposite side of the valley, and it flung reflected heat at them like a mirror of polished bronze. They lay in the strip of shade and cringed into their trenches.