The Wind Singer (30 page)

‘Hang them! Hang them!’

The nooses were pulled close round the children’s necks. Two guards stood at either end of the high bench, ready to knock it away from the children’s feet. Haka Chaka raised his arms to still the baying of the crowd.

‘What have we to fear?’ he cried. ‘We are Omchaka!’

A great cheer greeted this call.

‘Let Ombaraka tremble! This is how we deal with all enemies of Omchaka!’

But in the moment of silence before he dropped his arms, which was to be the signal for the hanging, a new sound came to them, carried by the storm wind: the tramping of marching feet, the music of a marching band, the singing of a multitude of young voices.

‘Kill, kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill!’

The people of Omchaka looked at each other in silent horror. Then the words that all dreaded formed on their lips.

‘The Zars! The Zars!’

Counsellor Kemba was galvanised into action.

‘Highness,’ he said urgently. ‘Release the spies! Put them in a land-sailer and send them south. The Zars will follow them. Omchaka must set course for the east at once.’

Haka Chaka understood, and the orders were given. As the crowd broke up, and the people of Omchaka hurried to their action stations, Kemba approached the children and addressed them in a savage whisper.

‘Forty years of peace and you ruin everything! My life work destroyed! My only consolation is that you won’t escape the Zars, nor will your precious Aramanth!’

The children were released, and bundled into a land-sailer: not one of the sleek manoeuvrable corvettes, but a heavy low-bottomed provisions craft, with a single fixed sail. It was winched hurriedly over the side, while the great city of Omchaka echoed with frantic activity. On every deck the sailmen were unfurling sails and yelling out instructions, and the ever-strengthening wind was bellying out the myriad canvases and tugging the immense mother craft into juddering movement.

As the little land-sailer banged on to the ground, the Zars could be seen far off, marching in their column, eight abreast, led by the band, high-stepping across the plains. The storm wind sweeping down from the north caught the sail and jerked the land-sailer out of the lee of Omchaka. Here, hit by the full force of the wind, the craft picked up speed. And all at once, with a roll of thunder across the iron sky, the storm overtook them, bringing with it drenching rain.

Faster and faster ran the land-sailer, crashing over the stony ground, and the children could do nothing but cling tight to the mast and hurtle through the storm. The wind became a gale, the rain became a torrent, through which they could see nothing. Again and again, lightning crackled across the livid sky, and the long booming explosions of thunder rolled over their heads. Water was filling up the well of the craft, slopping over their feet, but all they could do was hold tight as they charged on, bucking and bouncing, out of all control.

Then one wheel struck a rock, and two of its spokes snapped. For a few moments longer the wheel spun on, then the rim buckled, and almost at once the wheel imploded. The craft lurched to one side. The pitiless wind hammered into the sail, spinning them round, and a second wheel burst into fragments. The land-sailer went over on to its side, skated a little way under its sheer momentum; and then skidded to a stop.

Still the storm raged round them. They could do nothing, so they huddled together in the shelter of the broken hull, and waited for the pelting rain to pass. Bowman felt the silver voice of the wind singer, still hanging round his neck, and he thought how close they had come to death, and it seemed to him that someone or something must be looking after them. Someone or something wanted them to make their way home; though who or what it might be, he had no idea.

‘We’re going to do it,’ he said.

Kestrel and Mumpo felt it too. They couldn’t be far from Aramanth now.

In time, the heavy rain gave way to intermittent showers, and the wind dropped. The children crawled out from under their shelter, and looked round them in the light of the brightening sky. The storm was passing to the south, and there on the near horizon, unmistakable even through the veil of falling rain, rose the high walls of Aramanth.

‘We’re going to do it,’ said Bowman again, exultantly.

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

Through the showers, soaked but smiling, singing as they marched, came the unstoppable Zars.

‘Kill, kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill!’

Without another word, the children set off at a run towards the city walls.

24

The last High Examination

T
oday was the day of the High Examination. The unseasonal rainstorm had delayed the start of the session, which was most unusual, but now the rows of desks that filled the arena terraces had been wiped dry, and the examination was well under way. Seated at the desks were the heads of every family in the city, at work on the papers that would determine their family rating for the coming year. Each circular terrace held three hundred and twenty desks, and there were nine terraces: nearly three thousand examinees all sitting in utter silence, but for the scratching of pens on paper, and the soft padding of the examiners as they patrolled the arena.

All round the main terraces, and crowded into the steeply raked stands on either side, sat the families of the examinees. Everybody except those engaged in essential occupations had to be present on the day of the High Examination, partly to lend support to their family head, and partly to demonstrate that the examination ranked the family as well as the individual. The families sat in segregated sections, according to their colours. The few whites and the many more scarlets at the palace end; the broad middle taken up by orange on one side and maroon on the other; the end by the statue of Creoth a sea of grey. Maslo Inch, the Chief Examiner, sat on a podium raised on a stone plinth, on which was carved the Oath of Dedication.

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.

He looked at his watch, and noted that one hour had passed. Rising, he stepped down from the podium, and made a slow circuit of the arena, letting his eyes roam at random over the bowed heads of the examinees. For Maslo Inch, the High Examination was always a time for satisfying reflection; and today, after the recent disturbances, more so than ever. Here were the people of Aramanth, ranked and ordered, going about the business of being tested in a manner that was fair and just. None could complain of favouritism, or of secret grudges against them. All sat the same exam, and all were marked in the same way. The able and the diligent came to the fore, as was right and proper, and the stupid and the idle slipped down the rankings, as was also right and proper. Of course it was unpleasant for those who performed poorly, and had to move house to a poorer district, but it was fair, because always it meant that some other family that had worked hard and done well was being rewarded. And never forget – in his mind he rehearsed his end-of-exam speech – never forget that next year, at the next High Examination, your chance will come round again, and you can win back all you have lost. Yes, all things considered, it was the best possible system, and no one could deny it.

His wandering eyes fell on the group from the Residential Study Course, who sat together because they were subject to extra supervision. He saw on their faces the looks of panic and despair that he saw every year, as they struggled with questions for which they had failed to prepare themselves, and he knew that all was as it should be. Why is it, he thought, that some people never learn? All it takes is a little effort, a little extra push. And there in the midst of them sat Hanno Hath, with his head in his hands. Truly that man was a disgrace to Aramanth. But he was under control now.

His eyes swept across the arena to the area where the families from Grey District sat. There was the Hath woman, sitting dressed in grey, her hands folded in her lap, as docile as you could wish. His eyes moved on to the infants’ enclosure, where that dependable woman Mrs Chirish sat with the Hath child in her lap. He had expected the child to cause trouble, but it seemed to be quiet, no doubt awed by the great studious silence that hung over the arena.

Well, that’s a good job well done, said Maslo Inch to himself. The pride of the Hath family was well and truly broken.

High in the tower above the Imperial Palace, the Emperor stood moodily eating chocolate buttons, looking down on the deserted streets of the city. He had watched the examinees and their families arrive earlier, and had sensed their feelings of anxiety and dread. He hated the annual day of the High Examination. He had heard the thousands of voices chanting the Oath of Dedication, and when it came to the part that said ‘for love of my Emperor’, he had blocked his ears. But for the last hour, all had been silent. It was as if the city had died.

But now he began to imagine he could hear a new sound: far away, faint, muffled, but – could it be a band playing? He strained his ears to catch it more clearly. Who would dare to play music on the day of the High Examination?

Then as he stared down at the streets below he saw the strangest sight. A manhole opened up in the road, and a muddy child burst out, followed by two more. They looked round them, seemed confused for a moment, and then set off at a run towards the arena. The Emperor watched them run, and it seemed to him he knew one of them. Wasn’t it the girl – ?

Suddenly out of the manhole popped a handsome young lad in a white-and-gold uniform. After him came another, and another. Then from behind them, down the long street, came a whole column of them, led by a marching band. The Emperor’s eyes stood out in his head, and he was rooted to the spot. He needed no telling. This was the army of the Zars.

More and more of them came marching out of side streets and clambering out of sewers to join the main column. And now as they marched they started to sing, a song made of only one word:

‘Kill, kill, kill, kill! Kill, kill, kill!’

The Emperor knew he must stop them. But how? He couldn’t even move. He took a handful of chocolate buttons from the bowl, unaware that he was doing so, and ate them without tasting them, and wept as he ate.

The children raced past the statue of Creoth, burst through the pillared entrance to the arena, and came to a stop, panting, on the topmost terrace. Somehow, urgent though the danger was, the sight of the thousands of examinees bent over their desks in silence awed them, and for a few crucial moments, regaining their breath, they hesitated.

In these few moments, Maslo Inch had seen them, and was outraged. Nothing was permitted to break the sacred silence of the High Examination. He did not recognise the three bedraggled urchins, with their ridiculous stringy hair and their muddy feet. It was enough that they were intruders. He signed sharply to his assistants to deal with the matter.

The children saw the scarlet-robed examiners moving grimly towards them. Down in the centre of the arena, the wind singer stood turning silently this way and that in the breeze. Bowman drew the silver voice out of his shirt, and unlooped the string from round his neck. He spoke silently to his sister.

Stay close. If they get me, you take it
.

The children spread out, staying in reach of each other, and started down the terraces towards the wind singer. By now the examinees were beginning to notice the disturbance, and a buzz of low voices came from the stands. This is intolerable, thought Maslo Inch to himself, moving instinctively back to his podium.

The examiners closed in on the children from above and below, thinking at first that it would take no more than stern whispers to remove them. But as they came close, the children suddenly bolted in three different directions, sprinting round the terraces, past the examinees.

‘Get them!’ roared the Chief Examiner to the marshals, no longer caring that the examination would be disrupted. ‘Stop them!’

As he shouted, he heard an impossible sound from outside in the street: a marching band, and marching feet.

Tramp! Tramp! Tramp!

Bowman zigzagged through the desks, knocking over piles of papers here and there, jumping down from terrace to terrace. To his left he saw Kestrel, keeping up with him. He raced past Hanno Hath without even noticing, but his father recognised him, and his heart pounding with joy, he rose up in his seat –

A marshal caught Kestrel, but she buried her face in his arm and bit him so hard that he let her go. No one was working at their papers now: all heads raised, gazing in astonishment at the children, and the pursuing marshals.

In the Grey stand, Ira Hath rose to her feet, staring. She was almost sure – only their hair was so different – but surely it was –

‘Hubba hubba Kestrel!’ she yelled, wild with excitement. And Hanno Hath, on the far side of the arena, also standing, his heart hammering, cried out,

‘Hubba hubba Bowman!’

Turning to wave to him, Bowman ran into two marshals, and between them they caught him fast by the neck and legs.

‘Kess!’ he yelled, and threw the silver voice high in the air.

She heard, and saw, and was there: scrabbling for the voice where it had landed, racing down the next terrace towards the wind singer, Mumpo by her side.

In all this excitement, Mrs Chirish let go of Pinpin, who at once seized the opportunity to jump off her lap and run away.

‘Hey!’ cried Mrs Chirish. ‘Stop that child!’

But Pinpin was gone, wriggling under benches and between legs, towards the funny brown figures she had instantly recognised as her brother and sister.

Kestrel hurled herself down from the last terrace and ran for the wind singer, with two big marshals close behind her. She got as far as the base of the wooden tower, when their hands closed about her and dragged her down.

‘Mumpo!’ she yelled, and threw the silver voice towards him. Maslo Inch saw it as it fell, and suddenly and completely understood what was happening. He strode across the floor to seize it. Mumpo got there just before him.