Seeker (29 page)

"Arise, good people! The Lord is come again!"

"Wake up, Wildman. We have to look for Morning Star."

The beautiful youth rolled over, groaned again, and rose. His eyes were still shut. He stretched his entire body in a slow rippling movement, at the end of which his eyes snapped open, and he was wide awake. Seeker, waiting for him, thought to himself: he wakes like a wild animal.

They walked back up the streets that they had followed in darkness, finding their way by making for the looming bulk of the temple. By daylight, the street of the oil merchant's house revealed itself to be grander than they had realized. The well-kept verges, the mature trees, the high walls, and the imposing gateways all showed that this was the territory of the city's elite.

They reached the oil merchant's house just as the big gates were swinging open for the start of the day's business. Servants came and went in a slow bustle, leaving the house carrying big empty baskets, returning with fresh bread and milk and vegetables. Other servants swept the courtyard, throwing up little clouds of dust with their stiff brooms. A maid went by with a tray laden with breakfast, presumably for the owner of the house.

Seeker and the Wildman lingered in the shadow of a tree, watching while trying not to seem to be watching. The Wildman grew restless.

"If she's there, it's not likely they'll bring her out."

"We'll see something."

"What?"

"I don't know."

But Seeker knew they didn't have much time. For their papers to be in order, they must do a full day's work, and the working day would soon be starting. He felt frustrated and angry with himself, because he knew he had been counting on luck.

The temple bell rang the hour.

"We have to go."

As he turned to leave, he saw a man emerge into the courtyard bearing the breakfast tray that had been carried before by the maid. The tray was no longer so well-stocked, but nor did it hold the remains of a completed breakfast. There was just enough there—half a small loaf, a glass of milk, some cherries—to feed one person. The man carrying the tray was middle-aged and dressed in expensive materials. He could only be the master of the house: the oil merchant himself.

"Look!"

As they watched, the man passed down a flight of steps on one side of the courtyard, and so disappeared from sight.

"The cellar!"

"What cellar?"

There was no more time. They must hurry back to the lakeshore and the floating gardens. Seeker explained as they went.

"That was the master of the house, taking food to someone who's being kept in a cellar."

"How do you know that?"

"I don't. But I'm sure of it. Morning Star's being kept in a cellar."

When they reached the floating gardens, they found a long line of migrant workers waiting to be assigned their tasks for the day. Seeker and the Wildman joined the line.

Ahead, stretching out into the lake, were wooden walkways, floating on sealed barrels; and on either side of the walkways, in shallow earth-filled tubs, the lush green foliage of the plants. Here were row upon row of tomato plants, carefully tied to long fences made of bamboo. The heavy red fruit dangled between the dark green leaves, while down at their feet where the roots of the plants spread their filaments into the damp earth, the roped tubs gently jostled each other as people came and went, rocking the walkways. Beyond the tomatoes were the squashes and the marrows, and beyond them, the twining tendrils of the bean plants. Everything was in constant movement, bobbing and swaying with the slow shifting of the water of the lake.

Seeker and the Wildman were set to tomato picking, and so alongside the lines of other workers they moved up and down the walkways, bent over in the morning sun, their baskets on their arms, bobbing up and down with the plants. After an hour or so of this work, constant motion became the norm, and the distant mountains and the temple rock and the city of Radiance itself seemed to rise and fall with the undulations of the lake.

A short break was permitted for lunch, for which they were given bread and ripe sweet tomatoes. Seeker and the
Wildman kept themselves to themselves, resting and eating quietly away from the main group. Even so, there were many curious glances thrown in their direction, most of all from a band of young male spikers who seemed to want to attract their attention. When they got no response, they came on over.

"Hey, boys! Look who's here. The Wildman himself!"

The Wildman nodded an unsmiling greeting.

"Never!" said the boldest of the band, grinning broadly. "The Wildman don't work for his pay! If he wants something, he just takes it."

"So maybe that's not the Wildman."

"No, that's him all right. I'd know him anywhere. Didn't he stop me on the road and take everything I had? Him and his friends."

"He's not got much in the way of friends now."

They moved closer, forming a loose circle round the Wildman and Seeker. Seeker spoke low.

"Say nothing. Don't react."

The Wildman nodded and looked down and went on eating his lunch.

"Hey, Wildman! Where's your brave friends?"

"Still got your golden hair."

"You come to rob Radiance? That I'd like to see!"

"Then maybe a little rock climbing? And then some lake diving?"

They all laughed loudly at that. The Wildman did not reply or look up.

"No, this isn't the Wildman. This is the Girlman. The Girlman with the golden hair."

The bell rang for the return to work. Laughing still, the band of spikers strolled away. Seeker reached out and clasped the Wildman's arm.

"I'm proud of you," he said.

"I don't know how much of this I can take," said the Wildman.

They returned to work and labored on to the end of the day. A half hour before sunset, the bell rang again, and the workers came to shore. They were paid for their day's work, and their papers were signed, and they were free to stay in the city for another night.

Most of the workers joined the movement of people then taking place all across the city towards the temple square. The time of the evening offering was near. The band of young spikers was especially eager to see the ritual.

"They fall into the lake. What's so bad about that?"

"From five hundred feet up, dummy!"

"So? It's only water."

"And what's under the water? Rocks!"

So arguing and exclaiming, they followed the crowds towards the square. Seeker and the Wildman joined the flow of people for part of the way, then peeled off and headed for the house of the oil merchant.

Loitering once more by the tree in the street, they saw the members of the household leave for the offering. First to go was a handsomely dressed lady with a wide-brimmed hat, who was accompanied by a maidservant. Then the master of the house himself, wearing his robes of office, followed by two plump boys who were clearly his sons. Finally the main body of the house servants, the last of whom closed and locked the big gates behind him.

Sunset was now approaching. The street was deserted. It seemed safe to explore. Seeker led the way down the alley that ran beside the house.

"Cellars have to have air," he said. "We're looking for an air hole."

Almost at once they found an air hole. More than one. They found small grated openings all the way round the wall, at the base where the wall met the ground. Seeker knelt down and put his mouth to the first grating and whispered.

"Morning Star?"

There came no answer. He spoke more loudly.

"Morning Star!"

No answer. He moved on to the next grating, and the next. He tried each one, without any result.

"They may have taken her out," said the Wildman.

"It's possible."

"She may not be in a cellar at all."

"It's possible."

"She may not even be in this house."

"So what do you suggest?"

"Me? Nothing."

"Then shut up."

Seeker went on kneeling and calling, slowly working his way round the building.

"This is so stupid," said the Wildman. "There has to be a better way."

Seeker was getting tired, and he was getting dispirited.

"Maybe you're right. Maybe she isn't here."

He sat down and leaned his back against the wall.

"So what do we do?"

"I don't know."

The Wildman looked back at him reproachfully. In the course of the last two days he had got used to the idea that Seeker made the decisions. Now, seeing Seeker close his eyes and give up, if only for the moment, he felt a surge of determination that was all his own.

"At least let's finish what we started."

He moved on along the wall, kneeling by the gratings, calling as Seeker had called.

"Morning Star!"

He too got no answer; but he pressed on.

"Morning Star! Hey, girly! You down there?"

He moved on once more. But this time, as he was moving on, there came a faint voice from underground.

"Wildman?"

The Wildman spun round to Seeker.

"You hear that? She's there!"

He threw himself back to the ground and put his mouth to the grating, forgetting in his excitement to whisper.

"Morning Star! Is that you?"

"Of course it's me," said the faint voice.

"Are you all right?"

"Of course I'm not all right."

Seeker was by his side now. All his tiredness was gone.

"Morning Star!" he called to her. "It's me, Seeker. Are they keeping you prisoner down there?"

"No," came the reply. "I'm just sitting here to keep cool."

Seeker met the Wildman's eyes and they both grinned.

"Good to hear you, girly," said the Wildman. "We'll get you out of there."

"That would be nice."

"Is the door locked?"

"The door is locked. I'm chained to a wall. Apart from that, there's nothing to keep me here."

"Oh."

They sat down on the dirt and leaned against the wall, and their euphoria at finding their friend drained away. The small voice spoke again, from the cellar below.

"You still there?"

"Yes."

"Are you going to help me?"

"Yes. But how?"

"Here's what you do. Get a big leaf. Can you get a big leaf?"

"Yes."

"Get a knife or a sharp stick. Scratch writing on the leaf. Write three words: Seek—your—daughter."

"Why?"

"Just do it. Do exactly what I say. What are you to write on the leaf?"

"Seek your daughter."

"Good. Roll the leaf up, and tie it with grass. Got that?"

"Yes."

"Then come back tonight and leave the rolled-up leaf in the iron ring on the gate."

From the temple square came the sound of the people singing. Both Seeker and the Wildman looked up towards the temple rock, the top of which was visible from where they were sitting. They could just make out the priests standing on the rock's high lip, with the day's tribute held between them, his head hanging.

Seeker asked, "How long do we have?"

"Three more days."

"We'll get you out."

"No you won't. I'll do that myself. You just do exactly as I tell you. Leave the rolled-up leaf in the iron ring. Don't let anyone see you."

"When shall we come back?"

"Same time tomorrow."

"We'll be here."

The singing stopped. They looked up. They saw the tribute fall. They heard his thin distant scream as he fell. Then there was silence.

The little voice emerged from the grating once more.

"Thanks for finding me."

The next morning, the servant who opened the gates of Cheerful Giver's house found a rolled-up leaf in the gate ring and pulled apart the grass with which it was tied, half expecting to find it contained something. Instead, he found a mysterious message. He took the leaf to the housekeeper. The housekeeper took it to the master. Cheerful Giver studied it while eating his breakfast, and then showed it to his wife. His wife studied the message on the leaf, and like everyone else, she could make nothing of it.

"Seek your daughter? Whose daughter?" She herself had only sons. She summoned the servant who had found the leaf.

"You say it was on our gate?"

"Yes, my lady. Rolled up."

"Do any of the servants have daughters?"

"Yes, my lady."

"Have any of them lost their daughters?"

"No, my lady."

The puzzle of the leaf message was still filling Blessing's mind when she paid her morning visit to her tribute. She had taken on herself the task of removing the breakfast tray.

"Such an odd thing has happened," she said.

"I knew it!" exclaimed Morning Star. "This is how I dreamed it would be!"

"Dreamed what?"

"A message has been sent to you. Oh, I can hardly breathe!"

She clutched at her throat and gasped.

"What is this, child? You must tell me."

"A message has been sent to you. I'm sure of it!"

"Yes, in a manner of speaking. That is, a message has arrived. For whom, we don't know."

"Does it say—" Again, Morning Star seemed overcome. She bowed her head, and struggled for breath. "Does it say—Seek your daughter?"

Blessing went pale.

"Yes," she said.

"Just as I dreamed," murmured Morning Star. "So it must be true."

"What must be true?"

"How can I tell you, my lady? I am nothing. Why should you listen to me?"

"Please! I beg you! Tell me!"

"I knew it as soon as I saw you. I felt the connection. I felt the stream of love."

"What—what—what are you saying?"

Blessing was flushing and stammering. She had begun to guess at an extraordinary possibility.

"Do you believe in other lives?" said Morning Star. "Do you believe we have lived and died before?"

"Oh, my dear! I don't know—sometimes it does seem to me—but how can I tell?"

"Trust your loving heart!" cried Morning Star. "I don't need to say the words. Perhaps you even dreamed the same dream."

"Oh, child. I have such strange dreams."

"Did you dream that in another life, a life now gone by, we were as close as two people can ever be? Did you dream that you were my—?"