Maddigan's Fantasia (7 page)

She heard a movement and turned gratefully towards it. But the figures that now came sliding out of the bush, closing in on her … reaching out for her, were not the figures of the boys. Suddenly Ozul and Maska were looming over her. Only a few minutes ago they had been standing down below, a step or two behind the giantess Ida … but then, only a few minutes ago, she too had been standing down there, half-hidden by Maddie and Yves.

No time to turn and slide away. No escape.

‘Where are they?’ asked Ozul.

‘I don’t know,’ cried Garland. The sounds of argument drifted up from below. ‘I’m looking for them too. They … they just disappeared.’

‘Where are they?’ Ozul repeated.

Maska spoke. ‘Destroy her!’ he said. He had a curious voice. The words were clear yet sounded as if they were being cranked out of some kind of machine that almost needed oiling. ‘Destroy her! Then throw her out down there among them. That will send a message.’

He meant it.

And then suddenly everything erupted. Stones came flying out of the green curtains that hung around them. One struck Maska with a curious clanging sound. Ozul whirled, and, as he did so, yet another stone flew in at them, striking him full in the face. The very ground seemed to tilt. ‘Run!’ That was Timon’s voice. ‘Don’t just
stand
there!’ But Garland was already running – leaping away rather than running – diving in a frantic, stumbling dive, into that greenness behind her with no idea of where her dive might be taking her. All that mattered was getting away. Twigs tore at her. She could not tell if they were pulling her into hiding or pushing her away.

‘Get them!’ she could hear Maska shouting. ‘Get them!’ But now Garland had the advantage, being so much smaller.
Shooting
from one gap to another, she scrambled across those ferns, and under those clawing branches, in between trees and out into a small clearing. Turning, somehow jogging backwards, she slipped an arrow into her bow, and as she did this Timon’s voice suddenly came from somewhere ahead of her and a little above her. ‘Forget it!’ he was yelling.

But her arrow was already fitted. She drew it back. Maska showed himself briefly, beating branches away from his face. Garland fired … sure she would hit him. But to her amazement he caught the arrow in mid-air as easily as if it were nothing more than a thrown stick, though catching the arrow meant that he released the branches he had been holding back. They swung in on him, pushing him back. And then a hand seized Garland, tugging her into hiding. ‘Up here!’ hissed a voice, and she was hauled up onto the next step a bare second before Maska burst into the clearing once more, charging across it like some wild animal. Ozul followed him. They ran straight ahead without looking upwards. Garland’s foot was waving mere centimetres above their heads.

‘They’ll be back … back in a second,’ hissed Timon in her right ear, as he hauled her up still further.

‘Put your hand on this tree,’ hissed Eden on her left. ‘Great shot!’ he added, but Timon was already clapping her hands against the trunk of a tree, pressing them against the bark with his own. In the distance Garland could hear the sound of a drum … Boomer’s drum. She guessed that down below the Fantasia probably was buying time for its parley by putting on an act of some kind … juggling or, perhaps, the talented dogs. It was not the first time the Fantasia had bought time with their skills.

Timon was still pressing her hands against the tree bark.

Suddenly, everything changed. In half a breath Garland had become something different from anything she had ever been before. The drumming … the shouting did not entirely vanish but it became unimportant … a nothing … a tumbling sound being blown along by a wind. She suddenly felt she had lived with forest sounds for years (the sound of birdsong, the sound of wind and storm and rain on leaves) and, just as all these sounds had come and gone, that drumming would go too. Something more vital than a mere drumbeat was moving through her. She was becoming alive in a different way … a strange way … an ancient way. She had turned into something else. All the same she could still feel something of her old self, alive and watching … a thread of that usual self plaited with memories of being a fantastic girl living with the Fantasia. However, though she could remember the Fantasia so
clearly
, it was like an odd little dream off to one side. All that
really
mattered was the flow … the flow …

In that thread-like way she was aware of something beyond the flow, a clash and a shouting, and then a different sort of shouting further down the gully, and that thread of old
understanding
told her that somehow Yves and some of the Fantasia men had left Maddie and Goneril to distract Ida with some Fantasia display and had managed to slide up the slope just as she had done. They were struggling to disarm those men with the levers before they managed to bring any rocks crashing down onto the road below. And they might succeed, because the men with levers had probably been distracted, too, distracted by the jugglers, perhaps, or by the acrobats or the dancing dogs, only to find themselves part of Bannister’s strong-man act as Yves, Bannister and other men looped in on them.

Still, none of this really affected Garland, mysteriously
hidden
, at rest yet working. All that mattered was stretching up towards the sun and down into the ground. All that mattered
was the flow upwards and outwards into her invisible leaves. She had become part of the tree.

Down below Maddie was exclaiming, ‘Garland! Where is Garland?’

‘Well, we won that one,’ cried Yves, dropping down beside her, flourishing one of the levers as if it were a wand. ‘Let’s say we’ve
negotiated
. They’ll let us through now. You bet they will.’

‘Garland!’ Maddie was still crying. ‘She climbed up into the bush, and those – those men followed her.’

‘She must know where the boys went,’ said Bannister. ‘She must have been following them.’

Up in the side of the gully the ordinary-looking bark of an ordinary tree, a young totora, darkened then blurred. Eden suddenly dissolved out into the outside world. At first he looked like a ghost, colourless and transparent … then the
yellowish
brown of his jacket, the green of his eyes, slowly oozed back into him. Colour made him solid and real once more, but he looked so exhausted it seemed as if he might faint. He breathed deeply, closed his eyes and put his hand on the totora trunk. Timon dissolved out beside him.

‘Where are they?’ said Timon. He could hear the sound of someone scrambling up through the ferns below. ‘What’s that?’

‘It’s the Fantasia,’ said Eden, panting. ‘They’re looking for us – well, for
her
, mainly. Maska and Ozul will keep away now that there are so many people around. We’re saved. I think!’ He looked at the tree. ‘Where is she?’

‘Garland?’ asked Timon suddenly alarmed.

‘I think I’ve lost her,’ said Eden. ‘I can’t … I can’t.’

‘You must!’ cried Timon. ‘Bring her back now –
now
– because soon she’ll be part of the tree – part of the tree forever.’

‘You know what it’s like!’ Eden cried back. ‘I do something and I use myself up … I need to grow back into my strength. You know that.’

‘Garland!’ Maddie was calling further down the slope. ‘Garland. Where are you? It’s all right. They’re letting us through. Garland!’

Garland was feeling the tree’s flow going through and through her. It was a huge pleasure. No! It was something more than pleasure … something
beyond
pleasure. But with that thread of her old self she was also hearing a voice … a necessary voice … calling her name over and over again. ‘Garland! Garland! Garland!’

That thread of old self suddenly strengthened … that call out there was a call that must always be answered. A picture formed in her mind of her lips moving; an echo suddenly filled her … an echo of her own voice. ‘Here I am!’ it was saying. And now she felt … weak but strengthening … a necessary pull. Her mother was calling her. Step out! She must step out. And she felt herself stepping forward, stepping out of a dream.

Then, dream or not, she was outside – propping herself against the tree with Timon and Eden grabbing her by her arms and hoisting her onto her feet … and Boomer breaking in on them through other trees, seeing them and turning to call back into the gorge below. ‘They’re here!’ he was shouting. ‘This way! Here they are!’ Then Maddie herself came
scrambling
up, panting a bit and bursting in on them, looking at first frantic, then relieved and then almost at once angry with them because they had worried her so much.

‘It’s dangerous,’ she shouted. ‘We live a dangerous life. It’s all around us. Don’t you dare make it more dangerous than it needs to be. Disappearing at a time like this. Never do it again.’

‘We thought you might – you know – exchange us,’ Eden began, trying to explain. ‘And she followed us …’

‘… she came to help us,’ said Timon.

Maddie’s anger seemed to drain out of her. She looked suddenly limp and hugely tired, even though it was only midday.

‘I suppose I can’t blame you,’ she said in a weary voice. ‘Life is so mixed-up at present. And as for Garland, she’s a born runaway. She’d grab any chance. But, thanks to Yves, the ambush was undone. I talked, while he and all the men worked their way up to where the stones were balanced and … anyway it’s over. And you boys – you have nothing to fear. Not everyone is happy about having you join us – some of us are very cautious about letting strangers into the Fantasia. But just wait. Work yourself in and in, say, and in a week or two longer even the cautious ones won’t pass you over to enemies. You’ll be just a necessary part of us. And who knows? We might even get an easier time over the next few days.’

Somewhere down below the giantess Ida was gesturing and shouting. The logs that had blocked the gorge were being pulled away.

‘We can’t pay them anything, but once we get through the gorge we’ve promised to forgive them and put on a performance,’ Maddie said, still looking at Timon and Eden ‘You see, we do carry treasure with us – something that everyone longs for. We’ve got entertainment to offer – transformation – wonder. And with a bit of luck we make people laugh. Laughing is so wonderful. Laughter and wonder – that’s what lies at the heart of the Fantasia. And you’re part of us now – even your little sister is part of us. So trust us! No more running away. All together! Right?’

‘Right!’ said Timon.

Maddie held out her hand and Eden took it … then Timon clasped both their hands around with his.

‘We’ve been lucky to meet you,’ he said. ‘We needed good luck and we found it. Maddigan’s Fantasia is our total, absolute good luck.’

‘So far,’ said Eden, and Garland thought there was a strange echo of wind-blown trees in his leafy voice.

‘It wears him out
… being that true magician,’ Timon (who was sitting beside his brother watching him just a little anxiously) told Garland. ‘But he should be sharp enough again tomorrow.’

As he said this Garland knew he was staring at her rather than Eden, and for some reason his blue gaze was making her feel shy. Being a Fantasia girl born and bred, she was not used to feeling shy, and she did not quite know how to manage this unexpected feeling.

‘Where have they gone – the ones that were after you?’ she asked a little absent-mindedly. She was staring out through the van window above Eden’s head, and watching her mother, standing beside Yves and actually laughing with him.
How can she
? Garland was thinking.
How can she laugh? How can she stand there beside him, pointing things out to him as if he were her partner?
For some reason this angry feeling was rather more comfortable than the shyness with Timon. She was more used to it by now.

‘They’ll be back,’ said Timon gloomily. ‘The Nennog is driving them. They won’t give up easily. They won’t be allowed to.’ He touched her shoulder. ‘I’ve decided to show you something. Something that will prove some of the things we’ve been telling you.’

‘Just as well,’ said Garland, still concentrating on Maddie and Yves. ‘Though I half-believe it because of – because Eden made me – well, he made me part of that tree in some way, didn’t he? Anyone who felt that – that flow, just has to do a bit of
half-believing
. But how did he do it – make me part of a tree?’

‘It’s his skill,’ said Timon. ‘Dissolving barriers. He’s what we call a boundaryman. He connects across barriers, like the barriers between men and trees, and sometimes he can carry other people with him. But look here – look what I’m showing you.’

Garland looked, a little impatiently, and found Timon was showing her an ancient book, holding it carefully as if it were a rare treasure.
It’s not so great,
Garland thought.
I’ve got a better book than that
. Then suddenly it seemed familiar. How could she be recognizing something she had never seen before?

Timon nodded, and then, very gently, opened the book. Garland found herself peering down at faint, faded writing. But those written letters were not holding still. As she watched they swam like fish, briefly spelt out messages too faint and twisted for her to read, then shifted again. Garland frowned … screwed up her face … then she suddenly bent towards the open page, startled and more than startled – terrified. For that writing was her own writing. The book Timon was holding out towards her was her diary – her actual, own diary, grown faint and old, its blue cover faded to a faint greyish mauve, but her own diary for all that.

‘Give it to me!’ cried Garland, snatching at it, only to find with horror that the edges of the brittle pages began turning into dust as she grasped them. ‘Where did you get it?’

‘Careful! Careful! You’ll crumble it away,’ hissed Timon. ‘It’s old … old …’ Very gently, he passed it over to her. ‘It was in our library, in what they call “the archives” – old books and letters and things that no one really reads any more. But Eden found it and – well, we stole it out of the library.’

Garland began slowly turning the pages, gaping over them only to find that, a few pages further on, the writing crowded up and came to an end.
We will never get home. We will never get back to Solis. Maddigan’s Fantasia has become a dream – just another dream left over after the Remaking.

She looked up at Timon, horrified. Hastily, but still very gently, he took the book back from her.

‘Don’t worry. Not yet,’ he told her quickly. ‘Whatever’s written there is just one possible future. Nothing is set. Eden
and I have come out of the future into your time and that’s changed the balance of things. Nothing in that book holds still now. It shifts all the time. What you wrote back then – I mean what you’re going to write when the time comes –’ he broke off, looking confused by his own words. ‘Eden and me – we’re altering things somehow by being here, but I can’t understand just how it is working out. Last night the writing went on to the end of the book.’ He opened it, turning the pages delicately. ‘Look!’

And, looking back, Garland saw that the page which only a moment ago had been half empty, was now crammed with words, and had notes written down the margins. It was transformed.

‘Sorry!’ she said to Timon, and heard her voice was shaking as she spoke. ‘Sorry! I have to go. I just have to – I don’t know –
think
about it all.’ And then she jumped up and ran off as if wolves were after her.

When, weeks later, Garland tried to recall where she had run to she found she could not remember clearly. She knew that later, riding Samala alongside the Fantasia caravan, she had watched the forest stretch its green knuckles upwards, softly punching towards patches of blue sky, and found she was
somehow
watching them through pages of that mysterious diary. Even later, when they camped for the evening, words in her own writing still crawled and vanished as she helped Tane and Nye make earth ovens in which to cook potato and kumera. She was aware of Timon and Eden, off to one side and peering over at her cautiously, but she looked away from them, chattering with Boomer and arguing with Lilith just as she usually did. And all the time the world quivered as the words rolled and flowed telling possible stories – stories that could go in every direction.

Early next morning, in the back of her own wagon, Garland slid her familiar diary from its hiding place yet again, shivering
as she touched its cover. She squeezed it, stroked it, then opened it and saw, in the uncertain early light, that its cover was still blue, that its pages were not crumbling at the edges, that her own writing was holding still. It was just as it had been the day before last, and the words on the last page were the words she had written only yesterday.

All around her she could hear around her the familiar sounds of the Fantasia being pulled to bits, packed in on itself and folded away. She could hear Maddie calling her impatiently. ‘Garland! Come on! We need a hand.’ Those ordinary sounds, even the sharpness in Maddie’s voice, seemed like treasures, and she swung herself out of bed, stretching her arms wide as if she was embracing that world just outside the van door, loving the
usual
sound of it all.

What she could not see or hear was that far up, high on the top of the gorge once more, Ozul and Maska were looking down on the Fantasia, and that Ozul was licking his lips.