Lesser Beings Read online

  For the first mile or so, Lita expected to find another bridge, but the track wound deeper and deeper into the woods. Before the turnoff, the trees lining the road had been of the tall, straight-limbed variety. But the trees in this part of the woods grew gnarled and knotty. Their branches stretched and tangled through each other, as though competing for air and sunlight, and they closed in on the wagon the deeper they travelled, until there was no room to turn. Lita bit her lip anxiously, wondering if it had been such a good idea to follow the track. It seemed to her she was now travelling in the wrong direction.

  Just a little further, she told herself, and then she would wake MaKiki. But a little bit further turned into quite a lot further as Lita put off waking her guardian. She could just imagine what MaKiki would say and no matter how Lita tried to defend herself, she knew she would be wrong. There was no winning an argument with MaKiki.

  To make matters worse, Lita had the strangest sensation she was being watched and no matter how carefully she scanned the woods, she saw nothing except birds flitting from bough to bough.

  Ahead, Lita noted that the track grew pitted and pot-holed, but it also widened just enough to allow the wagon to turn around. That decided things for her, she would go back to the highway and maybe MaKiki need never know what she’d done.

  Just as she was about to turn the wagon, something whistled through the air with a sharp pinging sound and struck the soft canvas of their roof with a whop.

  Lita twisted her head sharply, catching sight of movement behind a thicket. And then a volley of pellets pinged through the air. One caught Hodder in the rump whereupon he whinnied loudly and bolted. Though well schooled to remain steady when there were sudden peripheral flurries, unexpected booms and bangs, and unforeseen potholes, Hodder was unprepared for stinging missiles. A sting to the rump was perhaps a venomous snake, a poisonous spider, a dangerous bee, and as far as he was concerned, it had to be outrun.

  Hodder galloped faster and faster, the wagon bumped and lurched over potholes and Lita, not prepared for such an event, lost hold of the reigns.

  ‘What?’ MaKiki said, as she jolted awake. In an instant, she assessed the situation and scooped the reigns from the floor.

  The track wound downhill and the little wagon fishtailed dangerously as MaKiki pulled the reigns. ‘Whoa Hodder,’ MaKiki called. ‘Whoa boy.’

  Hodder started to slow but they still travelled too fast. The wagon rattled like a kettle of bones; pots and pans clattered to the ground leaving a stream of metal in their wake and the wheel rims groaned as MaKiki drew the brake lever.

  Lita shrank against the backrest and her knuckles turned white as she clasped the wood of her seat.

  With a crunch, the drive shaft snapped, and the front right wheel broke away and whizzed on as the wagon toppled forward and ploughed through the dirt. Almost instantly they stopped. Something squealed. It was a high-pitched keening like a knife at the whetting wheel. At first, Lita didn’t know what it was, until she saw Hodder bucking and writhing between the shafts. White foam spilled from his mouth and he tossed his head, eyes wild with fear.

  MaKiki leapt from the wagon, released Hodder from the shafts, and ran her hands across his quivering foreleg, shoulder and chest, soothing him with soft words.

  Lita hung her head and watched MaKiki from the corner of her eye.

  Having satisfied herself that Hodder was unharmed, MaKiki stormed back to the wagon. In one swift motion, she leapt to the seat beside Lita, face brittle, eyes slit. As she raised her calloused hand Lita closed her eyes expecting a blow. But it never came. Through gritted teeth MaKiki said, ‘You are never, never, never to touch the reigns again.’

  Lita nodded as she stared at the floor of the wagon. She heard MaKiki sigh.

  After a few moments MaKiki said, ‘Where the devil did you bring us?’

  ‘The bridge was closed. I took the bypass.’ Lita could not meet MaKiki’s eyes.

  ‘East or West of the bridge?’

  ‘East, I think.’

  ‘You think you brought us East. Oh Lita. Why didn’t you wake me?’

  Lita shrugged.

  ‘Go. Just go,’ MaKiki said. ‘Get out of my sight for a while.’

  Lita scrambled down the side of the wagon and tucked the torn parchment under the band of her skirt. She was barely able to see through her tears as she stumbled up the hill. She could hear MaKiki stomping and muttering - never before had MaKiki threatened to strike her. Lita wanted to be angry with her, for losing her temper, but somehow knew she could not. Their livelihood was bound to their wagon and now they had no savings, no ring and a broken wagon.

  Once Lita was far enough away that she could still see the wagon, but no longer hear MaKiki’s rantings, she stopped. She felt wretched. If only she had woken MaKiki, perhaps then they would not be in this predicament. Except, and this was the other niggling voice, the one that hated to be told, she had not done anything wrong, really. Well, she could have woken MaKiki. That was true. And perhaps she shouldn’t have taken the wagon down the bypass track. But the pellets were not her fault. Something, or someone else had spooked Hodder. She glanced nervously into the thicket. Surely she had not imagined that. There had been a movement, and then the ping of a missile. And Hodder never spooked for any old reason.

  As she scanned the underbrush, she was certain of one thing. Whatever or whomever had launched the pellets was now gone – because the feeling of being watched had gone.

  While she waited for MaKiki to cool down, Lita carefully opened the torn parchment. The seal was split, but with a little heat the wax could be joined together again, she thought. The parchment however was torn beyond repair. It would have to be copied, whatever it was.

  Lita opened the parchment very carefully, lay it flat on the ground, and pinned it down with rocks so it would not curl.

  It was very curious, she thought. Full of lines and squiggles and shadings. There were a few pieces of writing on it too. Names of places such as Tanglewood, Puddleput, Kettle, the Cawkill Ranges and Yawmouth and then she realised what she had. It was a map. She had never had a chance to look at a map before, but she knew of them because they were jealously guarded by the Seafarer’s guild. Only the most prestigious sea captains owned them, and anyone caught in possession of a map, other than a guild member, could be sent to the dungeons of Lancor City until he or she died. They would have to hide the map very, very carefully from now on, Lita thought. Still this knowledge did not dampen her curiosity as she poured over its symbols.

  Lita had always expected that a map would have little pictures of houses, ships, and folk going about their business but now she realised that so much detail could never fit onto the parchment. It was then that she started to see the greater design: the representation of mountains as small, squiggly undulations on the map, and the branches and twigs that represented rivers and estuaries. Then, and only then, was she able to see where land met sea. It was a bold, ragged line.

  On the map, there seemed to be hardly any distance between Yawmouth and Kipping. Three finger widths if that. And yet it was a distance that would take two weeks to travel. It suddenly made her realise the vastness of Dracodia’s lands.

  She traced her finger along the shoreline and wondered about the notable absence of the smaller towns they had travelled that year such as Shickleberry Uplands, Pitypendle, Homsley, Fiking and Trollopy Knolls. Why were they not on the map? And then her eyes travelled across the sea, landing on distant shores. Far, far away - the distance between her elbow and her wrist. Oh, she thought, it must take a year or more to reach that shore.

  Baaran, was the name of that other land. But it had no towns, no cities to name. There were few squiggly lines on Baaran. Only inlets and stumpy rivers that went nowhere. Baaran, she decided, must be a desert. Perhaps nobody lived there.

  From the Port of Yawmouth, there were lines drawn across the seas, and strange symbols and funny little names such as the doldrums, deep channel, here be serpents and hidd
en reef. In fact, there were an awful lot of hidden reefs. And that’s when she realised what she really had. It was a map showing the safest shipping routes from Dracodia to Baaran.

  *

  MaKiki was remarkably unimpressed when Lita showed her the map. ‘I thought you’d bought us trouble,’ she said. ‘You do realise we can’t sell it, don’t you?’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘Those slaves, the ones we saw coming off the ship in Yawmouth were from Baaran. Do you want to aid the capture of those poor folk?’

  ‘You mean folk live on Baaran?’

  MaKiki nodded.

  ‘But where are the names of their towns? Where are the roads and the rivers, and the mountains and the lakes?’

  ‘They have them too. Not that any Dracodian Seafarer would have the imagination to see that. In fact, from what I know, few Dracodians have been to the interior of that land. So how would they know what lies beyond its shores? It’s best if you burn the map because I’d hate to see it fall into the wrong hands.’

  ‘Oh. I guess I made a big mistake then.’

  ‘Not the first,’ MaKiki said with a sigh, and then looked pointedly at the ruined wheel and drive shaft. ‘Nor do I expect it to be the last.’

  And that was the end of the discussion because now it was going in places Lita did not want to visit. She folded the parchment and slipped it neatly inside her tunic. She could always burn it after she’d had a good chance to study everything on it.

  As the sky darkened, bats flitted through the air, clicking and squeaking. Having collected a pile of wood for their fire, Lita struck a flint and blew as tiny sparks fell onto the tinder. Smoke curled lazily from the tinder and she blew again until a red flame travelled up the tiny stalks.

  MaKiki laboured over the broken wheel, her face dark with frustration. Though she said she might be able to make a new drive shaft out of a roadside sapling, the task was proving impossible. None of the saplings were straight enough. Nor did she have the right tools to mend the wheel. Wisely, Lita had kept out of MaKiki’s way for most of the afternoon.

  Now, as Lita settled onto her haunches, she heard a rumbling in the distance. A traveller, she wondered? It was odd for anyone to be travelling so late, usually tinkers and traders set camp before dark. She went to the back of the wagon, grabbed the sword from its sheath and slid it into MaKiki’s waiting hand. Together they faced the road.

  The small fire lit the angles and planes of MaKiki’s face from beneath, making her appear fierce and with her long hair tied back by a scarf, and sleeves rolled past her elbows, she looked just like a bandit.

  Through the darkness, a light bobbed, and as it drew closer confirmed what their ears had heard – a horse and cart. It carried one occupant only, a whiskery chinned man with deep wrinkles around the mouth and a pipe drooping from his bottom lip. He drew to a stop. ‘Got troubles, I see.’

  Oh, not a man, Lita thought, on hearing the voice and as she peered more closely, Lita noted that the driver wore a skirt and had rings on her fingers. The woman tapped her pipe against the rail of the wagon and tipped the ash to the ground.

  MaKiki looked past the woman’s shoulder into the tray of her cart, before meeting her eyes. ‘You could say that.’

  ‘These woods aren’t safe,’ the woman said with a smile, showing yellow teeth.

  MaKiki nodded. ‘No woods are entirely safe. Do you know any blacksmiths around these parts?’

  ‘Nobody but me for miles, unless you count the bandits in the Cawkills over there. Apart from that, the nearest blacksmith will be at The Downs or maybe Yawmouth.’

  Lita noticed the way MaKiki tensed at the mention of the Downs, or perhaps it had been the thought of returning to Yawmouth – where they’d encountered the slavers.

  ‘But,’ the woman continued, ‘as luck would have it – there’s a spare in my wagon. Which I’d trade for a fair coin.’

  ‘Which would be?’

  ‘Two golds or ten glems.’

  MaKiki scraped the dirt with the tip of her sword. ‘I think you’re taking advantage of our situation.’

  ‘That’s my offer. Take it or leave it. It’s all the same to me.’

  ‘Well, I don’t have that sort of coin and I’ve already traded at Yawmouth, so there’s little point returning there. Tanglewood is about the same distance. I could make enough to cover the cost of the wheel, but then I would need a wheel to do so, wouldn’t I?’

  The woman barked with laughter and narrowed her eyes. ‘Your problem, not mine.’

  ‘I’ve got two glems. That’s more than a fair price. Other than that, we can trade in pots and pans…or books.’

  ‘Books? Who do you think I am? Sia Muck?’

  MaKiki rubbed her forehead. ‘I’ll wait for another wagon.’

  ‘You won’t see another traveller on this road ‘til next spring. It’s hardly used at the best of times since most folk stick to the highway. When the rains start, which may be any day now, this track turns into a swamp.’

  ‘Well there’s nothing else I can offer.’

  Except the map, Lita thought.

  ‘What if we made another deal.’ The woman’s eyes slid over Lita, like a farmer sizing up a donkey at auction. ‘I expect you’d call back for the maiden.’

  MaKiki’s response was immediate. ‘We’ll not be parted.’

  The woman fiddled with her reins, gazed into the darkness ahead and cleared her throat, ‘When you change your mind, come find me. Half a mile from here there’s a track on your left. I live at the end. But my price will be twelve glems by then.’

  Lita’s heart pounded. It was a large sum of money but MaKiki’s mouth was set firmly, and her knuckles had turned white against the hilt of her sword. Lita leaned in close to MaKiki. Her voice trembled as she made her offer, ‘What if she’s right? What if nobody else comes before the rains? I’ll go. I can look after myself.’ In part, she knew she was trying to appease her guardian.

  ‘We’ll take our chances …’ MaKiki said, shielding Lita with an arm.

  ‘Tipple’s the name,’ the woman replied, as she released her brake lever and flicked her horse’s reigns. The horse took no notice. It continued to arch its neck, straining to reach the grass on the verge until the woman produced a switch and rapped it twice across the rump. The cart lurched forward and then rumbled away into the dark.

  *

  The following day, MaKiki succeeded in making a new drive shaft but there was nothing she could do to unbuckle the metal rim of the wheel. As predicted, no one travelled down the road. Lita hovered by MaKiki’s side all day, trying to pre-empt her every need, fetching tools and offering tea.

  Finally, MaKiki said something about it. ‘I’m not angry with you any more.’

  Lita tugged at a button on her sleeve. Still unable to gaze directly into MaKiki’s eye she said, ‘I’m sorry about yesterday.’

  ‘It was a very foolish thing you-’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘But what I was about to say,’ MaKiki said, raising her voice slightly and pursing her lips, ‘is, I’ve been a bit of a fool too. Yesterday, I was so disappointed in myself, so caught up in my own head. And when I nodded off, you were probably too afraid to wake me after the way I’d been.’

  ‘I thought you were really cross at me.’

  ‘Ah Lita,’ MaKiki said, shaking her head. ‘I’m as much to blame for all of that. Anyway, let’s put it behind us now. Somehow we’ve got to fix this wheel.’ MaKiki wiped her dirty hands against her skirt and groaned as she straightened her back. ‘Without an anvil and forge, there’s no way I can fix that wheel.’ She kicked it and it fell over with a clatter. She looked to the sky and rubbed the small of her back. ‘Did you snare any rabbits today?’

  Lita shook her head. She had not set any traps the previous evening. It seemed wrong to eat a rabbit now, but she didn’t want to say this to MaKiki because she would have to explain why.

  ‘I found some nuts and berries,’ Lita said.

 
‘Berries?’ MaKiki sighed. ‘Well I suppose it will have to do.’

  After their meal, MaKiki said little as she stared pensively into the fire. Lita wondered what her guardian was thinking. Was it about their worries of the moment, something from the past, or thoughts of an old love? No, that was silly. She had never seen MaKiki take an interest in a man.

  Lita stretched her legs and felt the map dig into her skin. If she’d been alone she would have taken it out and had another good long look at it. But she did not want to remind MaKiki that she still had the map. She wasn’t finished studying it yet and she had decided she would only burn it once she could remember all the details. She wondered then about the slaves they’d seen in Yawmouth. Where did they come from? Were they sad they had been taken from their home? Did they work beside the Beasts who tunneled the Shindalay mines? There were all sorts of questions she would have liked answers to, but the topic was tied up with the map, the damage to the wheel and their current strife, and she had to face it, every little piece of strife was a result of her actions.

  ‘Kiki,’ Lita said.

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘I think we should take up that offer. You know, with that woman – Tipple. I was to blame for the wheel therefore, I should be the one to get us out of trouble.’ She tried to sound determined, in the way that MaKiki expressed herself. ‘She was right. I don’t think anyone will be coming along. Apart from that, we’ll starve if we’re stuck here. We don’t have a choice. I can wait at her place and look after myself and if she tries to harm me I’ll runaway and hide in the woods until you return.’

  MaKiki grinned wryly. ‘I know you mean well, Lita. But something about that woman bothers me.’

  ‘She smelled funny.’

  ‘She smelled like a distillery.’

  They both stared into the fire for a while.

  ‘Then what about the other place she mentioned?’ Lita asked. ‘The Mounds, no Downs, or something like that. Maybe it’s close enough to ride there.’