The Glass Mountains (31 page)

“I am no dog and no slave.”
 

“Mariska, here where we work my muscles are atrophying, my speed is of little use, and my head suffers from tedium.”
 

“I must wait. My parents will come to their senses.” I tried to remember where I’d heard that phrase, “come to their senses,” but I couldn’t remember. “I prefer a predictable life. Such a life has not been mine for too long now.”
 

“We must leave this place,” he persisted. “We will be out of time soon. I crave sleep for the excitement of dreaming to compensate for my waking ennui. Your parents must make their own fate.”
 

“I will not leave them.”
 

“Then we will take them by force.”
 

“I cannot force my own parents!”
 

“We may have to knock them out.”
 

“That is impossible for a Bakshami.”
 

“Then it is impossible for them to escape because I see no other way.”
 

“This discussion serves no purpose.”
 

He didn’t answer, and in the morning we made bowls again. I noticed it had become hard for me to get started in the mornings because my hands had grown stiff, unused to this sort of work. I noticed, too, that Karrid’s mate was unable to work because her hands were always stiff. One of the other workers told me she’d once been the fastest bowlmaker in the household.
 

So all day I worked at my bowls, noticing the increasing perfection of my bowls, and feeling increasing pride in them. I lost interest in the outside world and thought only of my bowls. After work I always realized how bored I’d been all day, but during work all I thought of was my bowls, and even in my dreams I would see bowls and dream of making bowls that were more perfect than perfect. I put all the energy from my trek into making bowls. I thought about the bowls more often than about my parents. Slavery quickly becomes hypnotic.
 

The others were obedient and quiet, almost without personality except for Karrid’s obsessions over his limp.
 

One day Karrid came upon me so quietly I was shocked when I suddenly noticed him beside me, staring. “I heard you have been making trouble,” he said with surprising firmness.
 

“My parents work here, but I wished only to speak with them, not make trouble.”
 

“It’s too late to undo what has been done.”
 

“But nothing has been done,” I said.
 

“You have made trouble,” he said.
 

He said nothing more, and this time when he walked away he held himself high and hid his limp, as if we were strangers again. Even I saw in his walk that we must leave, and though our exhaustion was severe that night, Moor and I prepared to depart.
 

When everyone else had fallen asleep, we hurried through the night, moving toward the place where my parents lived, unsure what laws we might have broken or what penalties might await us if we were caught. We were only halfway across the farm when we saw that behind us Karrid’s home was now bathed in light. But no one seemed to be chasing us. Still, we hurried warily to my parents’ hut.
 

The far end of the farm lay silent. In the black night the hut seemed dead, almost like a tomb. No matter how hard I pounded my parents would not answer. I began to believe they had moved. A few partial workers came out to see what the commotion was, but they immediately hurried back into their hovels. We now saw a motorsled in the distance.
 

“If we don’t leave now, there may be no chance,” said Moor.
 

“Father, they are coming. If you don’t let me in, there’s no chance for me. I don’t know what will happen. But I will not leave without you.” I was shouting now, and though everyone must have heard us from their hovels no one dared come out. “Mother! Father!” The motorsled headed our way.
 

“We must leave,” said Moor.
 

“You must leave. Take the dogs. I’ll meet you at the ship.”
 

“You have no time.”
 

“I will stand by my parents.”
 

“Then you will perish alone. I will not wait for my demise. I am Soom Kali.”
 

“I cannot leave.” I pounded once more, until it seemed I had cracked the bones in my hands. “I cannot leave, Father, you must help me.”
 

Now the motorsled had almost reached us. I had come this far only to be arrested. “Father, they’re here. They’ve caught up with me.”
 

The door swung open and my father looked upon me with no expression. I grabbed my passive father and he ran listlessly beside me. Moor lifted my mother and carried her. She made no struggle.
 

As someone shouted in Forman behind us, we hurried into the tall fields and cut across to a busy road. It was almost morning, and the road was already thronged with partials going to work. We fell into place and moved at a moderate pace in order not to attract attention from those we passed. The brilliant sun rose on the horizon. But the sun rose on the wrong side of the horizon. It was the light from a fire, coming from the direction of Karrid’s house. What it meant I didn’t know, but I feared for Karrid and his silent green-eyed family. I did not understand the ways of Forma, nor did I entirely comprehend the purpose of authority. I comprehended leaders, those people whose surpassing wisdom and talent so outshone the judgment of others that one had no choice except to defer to them. But of authority I understood nothing.
 

Right before sunlight there were ships all throughout the sky, shining lights upon the ground.
 

“Could it be that they’re searching for us?” I said. “A few partials?”
 

Moor said only, “Hide in the bushes.”
 

I lay under some bushes with my parents and the dogs. The searchers never ceased all day, but they concentrated their efforts around where the fire had been. Smoke hung above them as if there were no wind at all. Moor, the dogs, and I lay unmoving the whole time, even soiling ourselves to avoid rustling the bushes. My parents didn’t move either, and every time I glanced their way their eyes were open and unfeeling.
 

At night, with the ships gone, we headed back to the house to see what had become of Karrid. When we arrived we found the burnt bodies: children, and also the body of Karrid, his legs that he had hated so much scorched and blistered under him. He was alive. The scene reminded me of a smaller version of the massacre of my people in the desert. And yet these dead people had lived here. They could not be enemies of the Forman government; they themselves were Forman. I did not see how a Forman, even one who broke the laws, could be considered an enemy of Forma.
 

“Let us help you,” said Moor. “Who shall we get to help?”
 

“No, no, I broke the law.”
 

“But what law have you broken?” I cried.
 

“I knew you were colluding with your parents to get them to run from their debts. In truth, I felt for you. I also envied you, the way I first saw you walking with such brightness down the road. So I deserve all of this.” He was weeping. “My children, my children.” His children lay burned around him. My parents stood silently by.
 

“We’ll bring you with us,” I said. “We’re going to our ship. We’ll put you on my dog’s back.”
 

“I never wanted these legs,” he said softly.
 

Moor was spreading ointments over Karrid’s legs and then wrapping them in cloth.
 

“Then it’s settled,” Moor said.
 

Karrid was shaking his head. “I never should have hired you for so long,” he said tearfully. “In truth I broke a second law. I hired you for more than ten sunrises without asking you for your warrants. That’s why I had to report you.”
 

“You hired us and yet you reported us as well?”
 

“My conscience got the best of me. But I didn’t realize it would come to this. They started the fire by accident when they stormed the place. It is only what I deserve. I broke the law!”
 

“But the law is wrong,” I said. “And those who started the fire are wrong.”
 

“Nobody has the right to criticize those who uphold the law. Let me die.”
 

Moor spoke firmly now. “You must show us a way out of here,” he said. “I have just decided. We came back for you and now your obligation is clear. Where I come from honor is not to be trifled with.”
 

“Honor is following the law, young man. You have no honor.”
 

“We must let him die if he wishes,” I said. “Where I come from it is not honorable to force one to act against his will.”
 

“We are not in Bakshami,” Moor said sharply. Moor was by far the strongest of all of us, stronger most probably even than Artie. He stood up to his full height and his arms seemed to lie ready for anything at his side. “I insist,” he said.
 

In this way we gained yet another companion.

4

That night our reluctant guide rode on Moor’s back and mumbled directions. My parents plodded along in a daze. If it were not for the fact that they looked like my parents I would not have recognized them. The air was as still and untroubled as the towns through which we passed. Again I thought how it seemed impossible this could be the land of my enemies.
 

Aiding us tortured Karrid, that was plain. He wanted to turn us in, the way all his instincts implored him to do; yet some higher instinct told him that life was more valuable even than the law he adored. He suspected, and we knew, that if he turned us in we might be killed accidentally, the way partials sometimes were. So his instincts battled each other and his legs ached and oozed as he led us through this peaceful world that waged war. Several times people passed, and we nodded solemnly as they gazed at us suspiciously.
 

The stillness and the delightful air held no influence over the dogs. They seemed to feel tension everywhere and fought with each other so harshly that Karrid feared one would get hurt. Artie was much bigger, but Shami’s fierceness possessed a demonlike quality. She darted in and out among us like some legendary beast. The dogs drew blood from each other. I was neither surprised nor greatly disturbed by this behavior. I’d often seen dogs act this way, sometimes in response to tension, sometimes for their own amusement. Artie and Shami continued to brutalize each other. I admired their agility and ferociousness and knew both of these qualities were at my disposal and would never be turned against me. But they were making too much noise.
 

“Quiet,” I hissed, and they immediately ceased and became the sweet dogs I knew.
 

“How is your back, Moor?” I said.
 

“It will hold up because it must.”
 

Someone passed a few measures away and paused to stare at us with alert distrust.
 

“Why is everyone here so suspicious?” I said when the stranger had passed.
 

“Who can say with certainty who is breaking the law and who not?” Karrid said. “Look at me, law-abiding all my life, and now I aid the likes of you. We must constantly be on the lookout for lawbreakers.”
 

“And what if you find them?”
 

“We must contact the authorities. Perhaps someone has already contacted them regarding us.”
 

“We are breaking no law,” I said. “Walking cannot be against the law.”
 

“It depends where you walk.”
 

“We walk through a town.”
 

“It depends on the circumstances.”
 

“The circumstances are we would like to save our lives. A world that has a law against saving one’s own life is an irrational world indeed.”
 

“It depends who you are. The law is not here to protect you. You are only partials.”
 

“I would spit on that law if I could see it,” I said angrily. I regretted my disrespect but not my anger.
 

“Fortunate for you then that you can’t see it.”
 

“And if I could and I did spit on it?”
 

He didn’t answer, but Moor spoke for him. “The law here breathes with life just as a thunderstorm breathes with life. But unlike a thunderstorm a law possesses intelligence and intention. Don’t spit on that which exceeds your power.”
 

A new stranger passed, and I felt a vague fear growing in me. I began to wonder why these strangers happened to be passing on the same obscure road on which we walked. I couldn’t tell whether my fear was groundless or justified. My stomach said it was justified. I would look into each suspicious face that passed, and even if we had not seen anyone for a long time I would wonder why so many people passed on this road. Why should anyone at all besides us travel on this road at this hour? Surely these people had homes. If they weren’t passing just to stare with suspicion at us, then where were they going? It got so that I could scarcely contain my fear. Once I saw a hulking form far away and feared for our lives. But when the form grew closer it turned out to be a woman carrying a child in her arms and a pile of cloth on her head. And then I thought, If not to spy on us, why is this woman walking down this road with a child and a pile of cloth? The peaceful air held a virus of fear, and I had caught it.