The Ear, the Eye and the Arm (8 page)

"I could hear an ant creeping up on the sugar bowl," boasted Ear.

"And what could you do?" said Mother, bewildered by these strange creatures.

"I got hunches," Arm said. "I used to know when the baboons were planning to raid the fields. So you see, we were ideally suited to become detectives."

"Who are these people?" growled Father from the doorway. Ear closed his ears at once. Arm staggered back as though struck.

"Detectives," Mother replied. "They're going to look for the children."

"Humph." Father stalked around Ear, Eye and Arm, looking them over. "They wouldn't get into the army," he concluded.

"They have special abilities." Mother hastily explained what these were.

"Humph," said Father. Only Mother could tell the difference between the two humphs. The second meant he was actively interested in the men and was considering using their services. "You're hired," he said abruptly. Then he quickly produced pictures of the children, credit cards, maps of the city with phone numbers of the police stations, his own private number to be used day or night and a great deal of advice.

Almost before they knew it, Ear, Eye and Arm were handed their Nirvana guns and herded back to the limo. "Use the bus for business," Father said. "You'd scare witnesses away with the limo. Report to me six times a day. Good luck." He shook hands with each detective but paused and raised his eyebrows when he touched Arm.

The limo took off. He turned back to Mother. "It's bad news, I'm afraid. We traced them to a chili-bite stall, where they were charged three times the going price. No one else remembers them. They're like babies out there! Why, why didn't I let them grow up?" Father rubbed his eyes; he looked around sharply to be sure none of his officers saw him with his guard down.

"They're probably all right," Mother said, but she was beginning to be affected by Amadeus's gloom. The sun was settling toward the west. Shadows grew along the garden. If the children didn't come soon . . .

"That Arm has the funniest handshake," said Father, watching the shadows creep across the grass. "He's stronger than he looks, too."

Seven

Tendai kept Kuda close to him as they were herded back to the person known as the She Elephant. All around them, the mournful shapes of men and women rose from the ground or emerged from holes. Dead Man's Vlei wasn't empty at all.

They're like moths, Tendai thought. They've camouflaged themselves to fit their background. And he wondered at their silence. They didn't laugh or talk. They didn't even make much noise as they shuffled across the ground. It's not surprising this place is called
dead,
he thought with a shudder.

They came down to a large flat field surrounded by hills. In the middle was a cooking area with a fireplace and stew pots. There were a few trestle tables and four or five old armchairs. An ancient woman sat in a rocking chair and sipped a mug of tea. Knife stood by her, his hand clamped on Rita's arm. Fist scowled at Tendai as he went by. "Little rats," hissed the old woman as she rocked monotonously.

"Tendai!" shouted Rita. "Tell these old squashy banana faces to let us go!" She shook her arm, but Knife grimly held on. Tendai suddenly noticed the woman who was sitting in one of the armchairs. She was so large, he had thought she
was
an armchair. The woman stood up and planted her hamlike hands on her hips.

"So here are the other little squealers," she said in a deep, hearty voice. "Bring 'em up and let's see if they're big enough to eat!"

Tendai and Kuda were urged forward by the silent
vlei
people. "Don't you hurt my brother. He's only a baby," Tendai said.

"I am not!" yelled Kuda.

"My father'll lock you up for a thousand years!" Rita screamed.

The She Elephant roared with laughter. "They're Matsika's brats all right. Well, listen up, little squealers. This is my country. Your father comes snooping around, I'll run a train over him. You do what I say, and we'll get along fine. Now get down that hole and change your clothes."

She picked up Rita, who pounded vigorously on the big woman's back, and disappeared down a burrow. Tendai and Kuda were carried down another by Fist and Knife. They were dumped on the floor of a gloomy chamber, shucked out of their clothes and left a pile of rags to put on.

Knife held the Scout knife up to admire the dragons before shoving it into his belt.

Tendai was trembling with shock and anger, but he tried to appear calm for Kuda's sake. "Let me help you get dressed," he said. "Ugh! These clothes are filthy!"

Kuda rummaged through the rags until he found a man's shirt with the sleeves torn off. "Nice," he commented. He smiled as Tendai buttoned it and tied a rag around him for a belt.

"It's like one of the Mellower's stories," Tendai said, smiling back, but he instantly regretted mentioning the Praise Singer.

"I want the Mellower," said Kuda with his face screwed up. "I don't like these other people."

"This is like a story, remember. We'll have lots of adventures and then go home."

"We will go home, won't we?"

"Of course. We're going to have fun." Tendai hoped his face didn't show how worried he was. Kuda seemed to accept his big brother's promise, because he immediately began to explore the chamber. It was hollowed out of the ground with tunnels leading out on all sides. A single candle trembled in a slight breeze. The walls and floor were a mishmash of plastic bags, dirt, grass roots and stones.

"Get up here!" shouted Fist down the tunnel that led to the surface. Tendai helped Kuda up the steep slope. He felt inexpressibly dirty in the rags. They had a dank smell that reminded him of an old refrigerator.

Rita was weeping on the ground by the She Elephant's chair. She wore a shapeless brown-gray dress with many patches. One side of her face was swollen, and her hair and hands were caked with dirt.

On the other hand, Rita had given nearly as good as she got: there were several deep scratches on the She Elephant's arms.

"Here. Sell these in the Cow's Guts." The She Elephant tossed the children's good clothes to Fist. She then washed Tendai's monkey bite with boiled water and applied disinfectant. "Someone should give that beast a teething ring," she said, shaking her head. "Sit down at the table, brats. You can eat something before you work."

Tendai and Kuda climbed onto a bench at the side of a trestle table. Rita, still sniffling, sat across from them. The She Elephant busied herself at the cooking pots. From one, filled with boiling water, she fished out three metal plates with a pair of tongs and clanged them onto the table. They steamed and dried in the afternoon sun. She plopped a ladle of
sadza
onto each plate and drenched it with sauce from a third pot.

Tendai had planned to reject food, the way heroes did in stories when they were captured by enemies, but the sauce smelled delicious. It was richly red with tomatoes, spicy with onions and garlic and laced with enough chilies to make his nose prickle. It won't do any good to get weak, he thought. Besides, Kuda won't eat unless I do, and it isn't good for little children to starve. So Tendai, not seeing any spoons or forks, broke off a piece of
sadza
with his fingers and popped it into his mouth. Kuda immediately copied him.

"It's
good,"
said the little boy with his mouth full. "More!" The She Elephant filled his plate again when he was finished.

Tendai found himself eating as though he hadn't had anything for days. The tomatoes were more tomato-y, the onions stronger, even the salt more saltlike. And mixed with them was a hint of smoke from the She Elephant's fire. Maybe it's because we're eating outdoors, thought Tendai. Whatever it was, he found himself holding out his plate like Kuda and asking for more.

It was only when he finished the second helping that he looked up and saw that Rita hadn't touched her food. "Go on," he whispered. "It's delicious."

"I don't eat with my hands," sneered Rita. "And I don't eat without washing my hands. I'm not an animal."

"We're not at home. Please, Rita. Eat. You'll feel better."

"I don't lower
my
standards because I'm surrounded with riffraff."

"Riffraff, huh?" said the She Elephant, hugely amused. "You should see yourself in the mirror."

"I can't help what's on the outside, but inside I know what I'm worth. Not like some."

"Be quiet, Rita," whispered Tendai. He saw, with a sinking heart, where the argument was going. Rita was an incurable
shooperer.
A
shooperer
always said the one thing guaranteed to tip a friendly discussion into a quarrel. When everyone was tired of fighting and wanted to make peace, a
shooperer
said the one thing calculated to start the argument again.

"Rotten to the core," said Rita.

"You mean me, you little squealer?" snarled the She Elephant.

"I wouldn't know. I can't see past all that blubber."

The She Elephant snatched away Rita's plate and dumped the contents into the
sadza
pot. "You can eat rats for all I care!" she roared. "Now get off that bench. Around here, people work for a living." She plucked Rita from her seat and tucked her under one enormous arm. Tendai put his arm around Kuda. He didn't know what they were in for now.

Suddenly, he noticed that the
vlei
people had silently crept up to them while they were eating. They pressed in, almost like a tide in the ground. "Nice children," one of them said in a whispery voice.

"Poor babies," sighed an old woman, timidly reaching out her hand to touch Kuda.

"Back! Back!" shouted the She Elephant as Kuda screamed. "The afternoon shift isn't over. Get to work or you'll get no dinner!" Regretfully, the
vlei
people moved away as silently as they had come. They melted into the landscape on either side. Soon the
vlei
looked as deserted as a valley on the moon. The wind mournfully riffled the hills of garbage.

Eight

The She Elephant hustled them into a tunnel. Down, down they went, much farther than the chamber in which Tendai and Kuda had changed their clothes. The ground became muddy, and by the time the trail leveled out, they had to wade through water. The She Elephant put Rita down and switched on a flashlight. "Go on," she said.

Tendai hoisted Kuda to his back and followed. Tunnels branched and rebranched in a bewildering way. Water dripped from the ceiling. Knotted grass roots hung down and brushed them as they passed.

"We don't use this area in the rainy season," said the She Elephant. "You'd need fins to get around. Go up here." She indicated an upward tunnel with the flashlight. Tendai was relieved to find dry ground under his feet again. He put Kuda down. His legs still ached from his flight over the
vlei.

They came to a large round chamber. The She Elephant took three lamps from a shelf in the wall. Tendai was intrigued. He had seen ones like them in history books. They were called kerosene lamps. The woman pumped and adjusted the fuel gauge on one until it hissed. She lit it, taking care not to set the screen surrounding the fuel outlet on fire. It gave a surprisingly cheerful light.

"That's right," said the She Elephant when she noticed Tendai's interest. "Learn how it works. You can help me set them up." She demonstrated the procedure with the next lamp, turned it off and let Tendai do it himself. "They run out of kerosene after a while. When that happens, let them cool, fill the fuel chamber and turn them on again." She indicated a fuel drum by the wall and a box of matches.

Tendai felt — very slightly — that the She Elephant might not be as bad as she seemed, but her next action drove that idea out of his head. She led them down a tunnel that ended abruptly in a wall of trash. "Get to work," she said, handing out picks and shovels. "Put the extra dirt in a cart and pull it back to that chamber. Someone will get rid of it for you."

"You want us to dig?" asked Tendai.

"Mine,
stupid. This is a plastic mine. You pull out the trash and sift through it. Anything interesting — a bowl or a cup — put to one side. Old glassware's okay, too. Everything else goes on the cart. Oh, and don't get fancy with the digging. Holes can collapse. And be sure the lamp's burning brightly. If it starts to turn red, the air's going bad."