The Wind Singer (2 page)

‘Hallo, Pinpin,’ he said.

Pinpin took her thumb out of her mouth and her round face lit up with a happy smile.

‘Kiss,’ she said.

Bowman kissed her.

‘Hug,’ she said.

Bowman hugged her. As he cuddled her soft round body, he remembered. Today was the day of Pinpin’s first test. She was only two years old, too little to mind how well or badly she did, but from now till the day she died she would have a rating. That was what was making him sad.

Tears started to push into Bowman’s eyes. He cried too easily, everyone told him so, but what was he to do? He felt everything too much. He didn’t mean to, but when he looked at somebody else, anybody else, he found he knew what they were feeling, and all too often it was a fear or a sadness. And then he would understand what it was they were afraid of or sad about, and he would feel it too, and he would start to cry. It was all very awkward.

This morning what made him sad wasn’t what Pinpin was feeling now, but what he knew she would feel one day. Now there were no worries in her sunny little heart. Yet from today, she would begin, at first only dimly, but later with sharp anxiety, to fear the future. For in Aramanth, life was measured out in tests. Every test brought with it the possibility of failure, and every test successfully passed led to the next, with its renewed possibility of failure. There was no escape from it, and no end. Just thinking about it made his heart almost burst with love for his little sister. He hugged her tight as tight, and kissed and kissed her merry cheeks.

‘Love Pinpin,’ he said.

‘Love Bo,’ said Pinpin.

A sharp rending sound came from the bathroom, followed by yet another explosion of oaths.

‘Sagahog! Bangaplop!’

And then the familiar wailing lament:

‘O, unhappy people!’

This had been the cry of the great prophet Ira Manth, from whom his mother was directly, though distantly, descended. The name had been passed down the family ever since, and his mother too was called Ira. When she flew into one of her rages, his father would wink at the children and say, ‘Here comes the prophetess.’

The bathroom door now burst open, and Ira Hath herself appeared, looking flustered. Unable to find the sleeve-holes of her dressing-gown, she had fought her way into the garment by sheer fury. The sleeves hung empty on either side, and her arms stuck out through burst seams.

‘It’s Pinpin’s test today,’ said Bo.

‘It’s what?’

Ira Hath stared for a moment. Then she took Pinpin from Bowman and in her turn held her close in her arms, as if someone was trying to take her away.

‘My baby,’ she said. ‘My baby.’

At breakfast there was no reference to the test until near the end. Then their father put away his book and got up from table a little earlier than usual and said, as if to no one in particular,

‘I suppose we’d better get ready.’

Kestrel looked up, her eyes bright with determination.

‘I’m not coming,’ she said.

Hanno Hath sighed, and rubbed his wrinkly cheeks with one hand.

‘I know, darling. I know.’

‘It’s not fair,’ said Kestrel, as if her father was making her go. And so in a way he was. Hanno Hath was so kind to his children, and understood so exactly what they felt, that they found it almost impossible to go against his wishes.

A familiar smoky smell rose from the stove.

‘Oh, sagahog!’ exclaimed his wife.

She had burned the toast again.

The morning sun was low in the sky, and the high city walls cast a shadow over all Orange District, as the Hath family walked down the street to the Community Hall. Mr and Mrs Hath went in front, and Bowman and Kestrel came behind, with Pinpin between them holding a hand each. Other families with two-year-olds were making their way in the same direction, past the neat terraces of orange-painted houses. The Blesh family was ahead of them, and could be heard coaching their little boy as they went along.

‘One, two, three, four, who’s that at the door? Five, six, seven, eight, who’s that at the gate?’

As they came into the main square, Mrs Blesh turned and saw them. She gave the little wave she always gave, as if she was their special friend, and waited for Mrs Hath to catch her up.

‘Can you keep a secret?’ she said in a whisper. ‘If our little one does well enough today, we’ll move up to Scarlet.’

Mrs Hath thought for a moment.

‘Very bright, scarlet,’ she said.

‘And did you hear? Our Rufy was second in his class yesterday afternoon.’

Mr Blesh called back,

‘Second? Second? Why not first? That’s what I want to know.’

‘Oh, you men!’ said Mrs Blesh. And to Mrs Hath, in her special-friend voice, ‘They can’t help it, can they? They have to win.’

As she spoke these words, her slightly poppy-out eyes rested for a moment on Hanno Hath. Everyone knew that poor Hanno Hath hadn’t been promoted for three years now, though of course his wife never admitted how disappointed she must feel. Kestrel caught her pitying look, and it made her want to stick knives into Mrs Blesh’s body. But more than that, it made her want to hug her father, and cover his wrinkly-sad face with kisses. To relieve her feelings, she bombarded Mrs Blesh’s broad back with rude thoughts.

Pocksicker! Pompaprune! Sagahog
!

At the entrance to the Community Hall, a lady Assistant Examiner sat checking names against a list. The Bleshes went first.

‘Is the little one clean?’ asked the Assistant Examiner. ‘Has he learned to control his bladder?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Mrs Blesh. ‘He’s unusually advanced for his age.’

When it was Pinpin’s turn, the Assistant Examiner asked the same question.

‘Is she clean? Has she learned to control her bladder?’

Mr Hath looked at Mrs Hath. Bowman looked at Kestrel. Through their minds floated pictures of Pinpin’s puddles on the kitchen floor. But this was followed by a kind of convulsion of family pride, which they all felt at the same time.

‘Control her bladder, madam?’ said Mrs Hath with a bright smile. ‘My daughter can widdle in time to the National Anthem.’

The Assistant Examiner looked surprised, then checked the box marked CLEAN on her list.

‘Desk twenty-three,’ she said.

The Community Hall was buzzing with activity. A great chalkboard at one end listed the names of the examinees, all ninety-seven of them, in alphabetical order. There was Pinpin’s name, looking unfamiliar in its full form: PINTO HATH. The Hath family formed a protective huddle round desk twenty-three while Mrs Hath removed Pinpin’s nappy. Now that she was down as clean it would be counted as cheating to leave her in a nappy. Pinpin herself was delighted. She liked to feel cool air on her bottom.

A bell rang, and the big room fell quiet for the entrance of the Examiners. Ninety-seven desks, at each of which sat a two-year-old; behind each one, on benches, their parents and siblings. The sudden silence awed the little ones, and there wasn’t so much as a cry.

The Examiners swept in, their scarlet gowns billowing, and stood on the podium in a single line of terrible magnificence. There were ten of them. At the centre was the tall figure of the Chief Examiner, Maslo Inch, the only one in the hall to wear the simple shining white garments of the highest rating.

‘Stand for the Oath of Dedication!’

Everyone stood, parents lifting little ones to their feet. Together they chanted the words all knew by heart.

‘I vow to strive harder, to reach higher, and in every way to seek to make tomorrow better than today. For love of my Emperor and for the glory of Aramanth!’

Then they all sat down again, and the Chief Examiner made a short speech. Maslo Inch, still only in his mid-forties, had been recently elevated to the highest level: but so tall and powerful was his appearance, and so deep his voice, that he looked and acted as if he had been wearing white all his life. Hanno Hath, who had known Maslo Inch a long time, saw this with quiet amusement.

‘My friends,’ intoned the Chief Examiner, ‘what a special day this is, the first test day of your beloved child. How proud you must be to know that from today, your little son or daughter will have his or her own personal rating. How proud they will be, as they come to understand that by their own efforts they can contribute to your family rating.’ Here he raised a hand in friendly warning, and gave them all a grave look. ‘But never forget that the rating itself means nothing. All that matters is how you improve your rating. Better today than yesterday. Better tomorrow than today. That is the spirit that has made our city great.’

The scarlet-gowned Examiners then fanned out across the front row of desks and began working their way down the lines. Maslo Inch, as Chief Examiner, remained on the podium like a tower, overseeing all. Inevitably his scanning gaze fell in time on Hanno Hath. A twinkle of recognition glowed for a moment in the corner of one eye, and then faded again as his gaze moved on. Hanno Hath shrugged to himself. He and Maslo Inch were exact contemporaries. They had been in the same class at school. But that was all long ago now.

The tests were marked as they were completed, and the marks conveyed to the big chalkboard at the front. Quite soon, a ranking began to emerge among the infants. The Blesh child was close to the top, with 23 points out of a possible 30, a rating of 7.6. Because B came earlier than H, the Blesh family were finished before the Haths had begun, and Mrs Blesh came down the aisle with her triumphant infant in her arms to pass on the benefit of their experience.

‘The silly fellow left out number five,’ she explained. ‘One, two, three, four, six.’ She wagged a mock-angry finger at the child. ‘Four,
five
, six, you silly! You know that! I’m sure Pinto does.’

‘Actually, Pinpin can count to a million,’ said Kestrel.

‘I think we’re telling tiny stories,’ said Mrs Blesh, patting Kestrel on the head. ‘He got cow, and book, and cup,’ she went on. ‘He didn’t get banana. But 7.6 is a good start. Rufy’s first rating was 7.8, I remember, and look at him now. Never below 9. Not that I care for ratings as such, of course.’

The Examiner was now ready for Pinpin. He approached the desk, his eyes on his papers.

‘Pinto Hath,’ he said. And then raising his eyes, his face took on an all-embracing smile. Pinpin met this look with instinctive suspicion.

‘And what are we to call you, my little fellow?’

‘By her name,’ said Mrs Hath.

‘Well then, Pinto,’ said the Examiner, still beaming. ‘I’ve got some pretty pictures here. Let’s see if you can tell me what they are.’

He presented Pinpin with a sheet of coloured images. Pinpin looked, but said nothing. The Examiner pointed with his finger to a dog.

‘What’s this?’

Not a sound from Pinpin.

‘What’s this, then?’

Silence.

‘Does he have a hearing problem?’

‘No,’ said Mrs Hath. ‘She can hear you.’

‘But he doesn’t speak.’

‘I suppose there’s nothing much she wants to say.’

Bowman and Kestrel held their breath. The Examiner frowned and looked grave, and made a note on his papers. Then he returned to the pictures.

‘Well now, Pinto. Show me a doggy. Where’s a doggy?’

Pinpin gazed back at him, and neither spoke nor pointed.

‘A house, then. Show me a little house.’

Nothing. And so it went on, until at last the Examiner put his pictures away, looking graver still.

‘Let’s try some counting, shall we, little chap?’

He started counting, meaning Pinpin to follow him, but all she would do was stare. He made another note.

‘The last part of the test,’ he said to Mrs Hath, ‘is designed to assess the child’s level of communication skills. Listening, understanding, and responding. We find the child is usually more at his ease when held in the arms.’

‘You want her in your arms?’

‘If you have no objection.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘I have done this before, Mrs Hath. The little fellow will be quite safe with me.’

Ira Hath looked down at the ground, and her nose twitched just a little. Bowman saw this, and sent an instant thought to Kestrel.

Mama’s going to crack
.

But all she did was lift Pinpin from her seat and give her into the Examiner’s waiting arms. Bowman and Kestrel watched with keen interest. Their father sat with his eyes closed, knowing it was all going as wrong as it possibly could, and there was nothing he could do about it.

‘Well, Pinto, you’re a fine fellow, aren’t you?’ The Examiner tickled Pinpin under the chin, and pressed her nose. ‘What’s this, then? Is this your nosey?’

Pinpin remained silent. The Examiner pulled out the large gold medal which hung round his neck on a chain, and dangled it in front of Pinpin’s eyes. It shone in the morning light.

‘Pretty, pretty. Do you want to hold it?’

Pinpin said nothing. The Examiner looked up at Mrs Hath in exasperation.

‘I’m not sure you realise,’ he said. ‘As matters stand at this moment, I shall have to give your child a zero rating.’

‘Is it as bad as that?’ said Mrs Hath, her eyes glittering.

‘I can get nothing out of him, you see.’

‘Nothing at all?’

‘Is there some rhyme or word game he likes to play?’

‘Let me think.’ Mrs Hath proceeded, rather ostentatiously, to mime the act of thinking, lips pursed, finger stroking brow.

Bowman sent a thought to Kestrel.

She’s cracking
.

‘Yes,’ said Mrs Hath. ‘There is a game she likes to play. Try saying to her, wiss wiss wiss.’

‘Wiss wiss wiss?’

‘She’ll like that.’

Bowman and Kestrel sent the same thought at the same time.

She’s cracked
!

‘Wiss wiss wiss,’ said the Examiner to Pinpin. ‘Wiss wiss wiss, little fellow.’

Pinpin looked at the Examiner in surprise, and wriggled a little in his arms, as if to settle herself more comfortably. Mrs Hath watched, her nose now twitching uncontrollably. Bowman and Kestrel watched, their hearts thumping.

Any minute now
, they thought to each other.

‘Wiss wiss wiss,’ said the Examiner.