The Reef (19 page)

‘Morning all,’ Manolin said.

‘Hi, Manny,’ Becq said, her eyes bright.

‘This fish is good,’ Yana said.

‘Yes. Where doest thy go today?’ the native woman said. She was wearing a rag around her waist, and her long brown hair hung to her stomach. Her jaw was square, her skin dark brown.

‘I think we’re going to see the ichthyocentaurs tribe,’ Yana said.

‘Ah, thou seemest happy. When thou sees them, thy will be.’

Manolin frowned at the native girl’s strange and old speech.

Forb stood up. ‘Ah, good morning, Manolin, Santiago. And what do you think of your first dawn on Arya’s shores?’ ‘Beautiful,’ Manolin said. ‘Absolutely stunning.’ ‘It’s a shame that you didn’t watch the sun rise from the beach,’

Forb said. ‘Amazing colours, especially for this time of year.’ ‘Say, Forb, why does she talk like that?’ He indicated the native woman.

‘Yes, quaint, isn’t it? Well, they were the remnants of the last age, so I’ve always suspected their language didn’t change like ours did. There’s not much to modify it. Very few things happened here to require their words to alter. Like nature, language must adapt and change, too.’

‘What’s on the menu?’ Santiago asked.

The doctor put his arm on Manolin’s shoulder and steered him back to the others. ‘Depends on what you want,’ he called out to Santiago. ‘We’ve some hog left, or hare, or fish, or any number of plants from the forest.’

‘Excellent,’ Santiago said. ‘I think hog is in order. A few strips of that’ll be most welcome.’ ‘Hog it is.’

After breakfast, DeBrelt’s crew formed a circle around Forb. Santiago stood alongside the doctor and looked at the faces of his colleagues. Only the black-skinned rumel, Arth and Jefry didn’t have cheeks that were red from the sun and salt.

‘Right,’ the doctor said. ‘The moment you’ve all been waiting for. .. the tour.’

Everyone smiled, mumbled approval.

“Bout time, too,’ Jefry said. He smiled, thinking it a joke, then caught Yana’s gaze just in time to see her turn away in disgust. Arth patted him on the back.

The doctor said, ‘Firstly, I’d get some stout boots on. Also, you could fetch any note books you need. There’s a lot to say. There’s plenty of food in the forest proper. Fruit and whatnot, but we can bring some meat along, too. Wear light clothing because it’s pretty humid up there-’ He indicated the sprawling forest that clawed at the top of the dormant volcano. ‘Now, you’ll all be able to see the ichthyocentaurs, but we’ll have to take you in twos. They’re rather nervous these days.’

Manolin frowned. ‘There was no action in the night. No deaths, so we were lucky ... Are those two agents coming at all?’ The doctor turned to Santiago. Santiago shrugged. ‘No idea. I’ll go and see what the little buggers are up to.’ He walked off into the forest.

As soon as he set foot under the canopy Santiago could feel the humidity. It took a minute for his eyes to get used to the surprising darkness after being in the sunlight on the beach. He focus sed ahead, at a small hut at the end of a trail through the vegetation, walked to it. Santiago loathed these agents, resented the fact that they were here, following him. On the ship they’d acted with the usual tough guy mannerisms, the set jaws, sideways glances, the precision silences. In the right bars you’d see men like that in Escha all the time, huddled away from doors, talking only with themselves in steep lighting, shaded hats, as if the rest of the population was an inconvenience to their image. They’d look at you sideways, with an expression somewhere between suspicion and disdain. You knew better than to interfere with looks like that. He understood their serious talk, the posturing. Gio seemed to have a hundred of them keeping him in power, but that was because he had the money to. Santiago knew that was why he’d always fail-his principles, all that he stood for would ensure he never had such a power. So he’d spent a slice of his life dealing with these agent types. To be on an island with them bothered him so much more, because they had no right nor use to be here.

Insects sprang across his face. The sound of the sea became muffled, the nearer he got to the hut, as if he were in the middle of a rainforest, not at all on an island. Above the hut, he could see sparks of colour and calling sounds that he did not recognise, as birds fled his footsteps. He approached the hut, knocked on the door. There was no answer. He put his ear to the wood, could hear a strange sound, muffled voices-a constant fizz, not unlike the sea. Listening for some time, he deduced the sound was constant. He knocked again, wafting his shirt to escape the humidity. Dappled sunlight burst through the canopy. A small bird sat on the roof of the hut. It was bright red, with yellow streaks on its face that made it look like it wore a mask. It had a curved beak and an elegant tail, which unfurled over the edge of the hut.

There was a noise from within the hut and Santiago thumped on the door again, calling out this time. ‘I say, are you two coming out of there, or not? We’re about to tour the island, and thought you ought to come along.’ Then he said, ‘Not, of course, that any of us want you.’ He pushed the door back, noticing that it didn’t have a catch, peered in.

Inside, was dark, but he saw Mr Calyban and Mr Soul hunched in the corner. There was a clear sound of static.

Santiago said, ‘What are you two doing?’

Calyban and Soul looked up, startled.

Santiago could see that they were leaning over a small box, with brass dials on top. ‘What’s that?’ ‘It’s none of your business, DeBrelt.’ They stood up to usher him out.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s not your concern.’

‘That’s a relic, isn’t it? What’s it for?’

‘It’s not a relic.’

‘Yes it is, you’ve brought that with you. What’s it do?’ Santiago stepped in the doorway, pushed the door fully open.

Calyban and Soul stood shoulder to shoulder, arms folded, in front of Santiago. ‘Mr DeBrelt, kindly leave now. We’ll follow you in a moment on this tour thing. Get out.’

Santiago looked from Calyban to Soul and back, several times. The moment stretched in time. Before he left he glanced at the device one last time, slammed the door behind him as he stepped out and he saw the red of the bird flash as it flew from the roof into the forest.

‘They have a relic,’ Santiago whispered to Manolin as they pushed forward into the forest. Forb was up ahead, leading them on a gradual ascent.

‘A what?’ Manolin said.

‘A relic.’

‘Do they know how to use it?’

‘I guess so. They must’ve worked something out back in the city.’ Santiago wiped his brow.

‘What’s it do?

‘No idea.’

‘How d’you know it is one?’

‘I can tell. It isn’t any technology I’ve seen.’ Santiago pouted thoughtfully, nodded. ‘A relic, indeed ...’
Manolin said. ‘Yes. Heavens, man. Your mind must be on that woman still.’ ‘Shush, keep your voice down. I don’t want him hearing, do I?’ Manolin indicated the doctor, who was leading the group.

Santiago said, ‘Anyway, yes, they’re up to something.’

‘Come on, you must have an idea what it does? Did you get a good look?’ Manolin said.

‘I’m not sure,’ Santiago said. ‘I reckon it may be something for communication, which means that there must be at least another such unit, probably back with Gio or somewhere out at sea.’

Manolin grunted, stepping over a tree root. He and Santiago followed Forb, who seemed to skip up the slope and over the foliage with the agility of a deer. Becq and Yana followed, and Arth and Jefry were behind them. The two agents brought up the rear end of the group.

The heat crept up like a predator, catching the foreigners unprepared by mid-morning. They plodded through the forest, their shirts becoming damp with sweat. Manolin could see the perspiration on the doctor’s head.

Forb explained that they were at the foot of the volcano. Their ascent to the ichthyocentaurs would take about a two hours’ hike, but it became cooler as the forest was less dense and a fresh onshore breeze was received with open arms, open shirts. In shaded paths were butterflies, the bright colours a sharp contrast to the forest. More birds added to the variety-species they’d never seen. Sounds became intense the higher you climbed.

Forb pointed out some of the flora and fauna. When they were deeper in the forest, Manolin followed the doctor’s extended arm and finger to a hog.

‘Do you catch them often?’ Manolin asked, leaning back with his hands on his hips, drawing in deep breaths.

‘Yes. Every couple of weeks we have a hunt. The next one is tomorrow, which you’re more than welcome to join. Hog is a good source of meat. Tasty, compared to fish. Only once every now and again. All things in moderation.’

After an hour, at a point where the volcano was exposed, they came across a bright clearing, and the horizon could be seen from a significant height. Manolin gasped as he approached the edge and you could see all they way down to the lagoon. The wind ruffled his hair pleasantly, cooling the sweat. The sun was overhead, and you he looked right up, you could see the edge of the volcano towering.

He turned to face the sea once again and noticed, as Forb joined him, a large patch of bright green in the sea.

‘Ah, you’ve spotted the reef, Manolin. Excellent.’ Forb turned to the others. ‘Come and have a look at this view. It offers a perfect aspect of the reef.’

The travellers gathered, caught their breath. In one long line, they stood in the clearing, looking down the slope to the reef. Manolin saw Santiago smile

The reef extended for a good half a mile, then faded beneath the deeper waters. There were patches of sand, here and there, where the reef was more stable, and in the distance, you could see the edges of another island. Even Mr Calyban and Mr Soul seemed impressed, nodding approval to one another.

‘Are those the other islands then, Forb?, Santiago asked.

‘Yes. That’s Samekh, about ten miles away,’ the doctor said. ‘It’s much smaller than Arya. There are two others that extend the chain beyond. We don’t ever go there.’

‘Why not?’ Santiago asked.

Forb turned and looked at Santiago, smoothing the sweat off of his bald head. ‘There’s nothing of interest there. We don’t go there.’ The doctor walked away from the group, into the forest.

Yana turned, stepping back behind a bush. The others looked on as she hunched double, with her hands on her knees, her pack almost tipping over her head, and she vomited behind the bush.

She coughed twice, emptying her stomach, as Jefry ran over to her.

‘Yana, dear, is everything okay?’ the rumel said. ‘You all right?’

She waved him off and stood up, wiping her mouth on a leaf. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine. It’s probably something I ate.’ She reached for her pack, pulled out a water bottle. She took a sip and wiped her mouth, placed the bottle back, then walked into the forest. Jefry simply watched her enter the shade of the trees again, and turned to the others, a look of helplessness on his face.

Santiago wore a frown and turned to Becq. ‘She had the same fish as you earlier. Are you feeling okay?’ He placed a hand on the girl’s damp shoulder.

‘Yes, absolutely fine. A little out of breath, but fine.’ She smiled at her father, then glanced over to Manolin, who turned away to walk after Yana and the doctor.

Becq looked on as the others continued. She dragged her heels a little. Maybe it was the heat, maybe not entirely. She wasn’t having a particularly good expedition so far. This was the worst to date.

Was it too much to ask for him to even acknowledge her presence? She would admit that she wasn’t the prettiest of girls. Her mother was pretty, but had died when she was three years old. She thought that might have made her close with her father, but work was always his first love.

One day he had brought home a promising young student for supper: Manolin. He had ignored her from that first day, where she spent the evening watching him talk to her father. Then she waited by as he married a waitress from the place where her father had taken them all for a night out, a time to celebrate.

Manolin was the type of man that looked as though he needed looking after. Needed a good meal and a wash, and for some reason and Arrahd knew from her prayers she wanted to be an independent woman-she felt she wanted to care for him, to pamper him, to provide for him. He had the kind of hair that she wanted to ruffle. Deep down she knew she had only the doll. The only way to get closer to him was to follow in her father’s footsteps, to study nature.

Don’t start thinking like that, Becq DeBrelt,
she thought.
You’re here because you want to be, not because of a man who barely looks at you. At least he’s single now, I can work on him. I just need to be patient. On this island, we’ve all the time in the world. Just wait it out.

An hour later, DeBrelt’s crew were three-quarters of the way up the volcano. There were some pleasant moments where they walked in parts of the forest that stood under the shade of the volcano. Vines hung down. The vegetation crowded them. Clear shafts of light burst through the canopy, casting illumination on clouds of insects, on bright flowers. Manolin’s alert vision noted many species of spiders, which, as Forb explained, were probably the first species to pioneer the volcanic islands, being able to weave gossamer balloons to carry them to each of the islands along the fringes of the reef. Manolin dreamt scenes of squadrons of spiders all flying to invade the archipelago, to have a crack at setting up home again, somewhere far off.