The Storyteller's Tale

By Alberta Ross

In 2060 the catastrophic results of climate change lead to mass migrations, whole nations fleeing rising seas and desertification. The world at war: land, water and survival the prize. The survivors split, most scrambling to the purpose-built cities the others fortifying their settlements behind the false security of rings of landmines. Genetic manipulations lead to populations in the cities being freed from greed and violence but this has resulted in the destruction of the drive which made the human race so successful. Imprisoned behind the mines, deprived of resources, the settlements battle famine, natural disasters and despair. Populations everywhere continue to tumble.

It is 2116 and Ellen and Bix with their children and their friend Jack have moved away from the City and have settled at Blaisemill to try and gain skills to survive in the wilderness. They are to start opening up the beleaguered settlements and establish Trade Routes. Jack takes on Keira Baha, Blaisemill’s black sheep, to be their guide. Many in the village consider she is mad as well as bad and that this will prove a mistake.

Karina Morgan, friend and colleague of Maia Linne who with archivist Ris Menai has gone missing presumed dead on a field trip, has taken up the uncompleted work on the Sefuty Chronicles. Working with Keira Baha’s recording of events during the three years Ellen and Bix resided in the village and some letters from her friend, Karina puts together this next instalment of the Sefuty Chronicles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Alberta Ross
• Release date: Feb 20, 2011
• ISBN: 9781458165886

Alberta Ross

The past was interesting the present is fun and the future exciting. My writing began just before retirement, having spent many years travling the world and studying, I gained a BSc in anthropology and food science and an MA in my 40s. Among my many interests I include reading, ecology, ethics, crazy patchwork, gardening, food, climate change, music,family history and sustainable living. The Sefuty Chronicles are fed by my many interests and experiences, by my concerns and hopes for the future of the planet.

Book preview

Chapter One

Blaisemill 2116: recorder A. Stebbins

When we were kids we would listen to those ‘Once upon a time’ stories – you know the ones, where the last sentence is always ‘so they lived happily ever after’. Well, we only believe them when we are very young; I mean, really believe them. Of course some of us, and for all I know all of us, hope a little of the magic exists. We secretly dream of our heroes. I always fancied a knight in shining armour galloping up in a cloud of dancing dust, fiery steed rearing on strong haunches, ready to sweep me off my feet and rescue me from whatever dragon happened to be threatening. Our books had pictures in them and, although faded and creased, these knights shone in the sunshine in a marvellous way.

That I would need rescuing sometime was without any doubt. That my hero would be this gangling, loose-limbed, shy, aloof mongrel, I had never in my wildest dreams imagined. I never recognised him when he came; on foot, quietly with no fuss and no talent for words just at a time I needed eloquence to plead my cause.

Bix was the man I needed; actually, Bix was the man most of us girls thought we needed. He was almost perfect; I had the biggest crush on him. That smile and a laugh you would follow forever. His voice would charm the birds from the branches. Ellen should know how lucky she is, he doesn’t look at anyone else like he does her. I’ve watched from the side, I know. I’m good at the side shadows, most of my life I’ve watched from them; I know things about you all. You say I’m sly and sneaky, and maybe I am if what you mean by that is I know your secrets; I know you’re not all as good and well-behaved as you would like others to think. Maybe you don’t think so badly of me now but back then, at the beginning of my story, you did and let none of you deny it.

Well, my mongrels have persuaded me to tell you what happened. When I say they have persuaded me I mean, of course, they have cajoled and badgered, as they do every time they want me to do something: it’s expected. What is not expected is that I would agree, having had very pointed and vocal viewpoints on the subject in the past. So, I‘ve changed my mind, what is there in that? People are allowed; we change, our opinions change, I have never said my ideas were stone; just not flighty like brook water. Jack says in that case I must be like a delta: wide, slow and deep. I’m considering that remark as I can’t quite work out if he is being rude or handing me a compliment; there are times, less frequent than before, when I cannot quite read his face.

Well, this is my story and I can start wherever I want so I’ve started at that Council Meeting when my life was in the rather inept hands of the most unlikely hero I had ever imagined. My trial was heard, my sentence passed. I would not repent, what should I repent? I was what I was. I knew, when I refused, I was saying ‘kill me’.

I’ve always been ill-fitting in the village; possibly from the cradle. I cannot remember a time that I didn’t feel constrained by my life here, like a garment a year too small. Outside of the children’s games; irritating the adults. I scowled, not smiled, on my world. I didn’t understand my neighbours and they never understood me. Had I ever tried to fit in? I can’t answer as I don’t know. By the time I was old enough to think, to know, I was already in the side shadows, hating everyone. The fact is I was not born to be of the village. At the time of my trial that was all I knew but there was nowhere else to go so . . .

I was scared, of course I was; dying was not what I wanted although I knew it would be quick and painless and that I would never see it coming. I was young and life screamed inside me. That was the point that no one could understand, life screamed for release, any life but this slow, suffocating death that was village life. I wanted something; I never knew what, excitement maybe, variety or change. Maybe it was a faster pace or just a different pace. I never knew what I wanted, only what I didn’t.

I had six months for a final change of heart, six months with no ‘social discourse.’ Instruction only; orders all meant. Life’s just one command after another here. It was a waste of your pity, I would not yield. That night I went to my place in the paddock. It was the furthest I could get from everybody without being in the minefields. I’ve always gone there when I felt I would burst from the anger inside me. I would stare at the low rooflines, watching you all moving around in your steady community spirit. I’d mutter sullenly that I hated you but of course I didn’t really. You’re my family, my neighbours; I’ve lived with you for all my life and you’ve tried so hard to guide me, I know this now. I hated the life not you, but it is so much easier to hate the people. I stayed all night, my back against the fence. I huddled my arms around my knees against the chill and maybe slept a little; I wouldn’t go back to my bed, not after that trial. No one came to fetch me, they knew I wouldn’t come, but still it might have been nice if . . . well, no.

I saw Jack come across next day. He had been talking to John and then he had come over, so I knew they had been talking about me. I scowled at him but he didn’t seem to notice. Jack had come along with Bix and was helping build the cottage for Ellen and the babies. We didn’t know him very well, not like we thought we knew Bix. Jack was quiet and shy. Where Bix would start conversations and tell jokes, Jack would only answer if you spoke to him and although he liked a joke he never made them. We all thought he was slow at thinking, that he had no original opinion. As I say, we didn’t know him well.

He squatted down next to me; you know the way they have, the Ferals, one leg stretched out in front and their weight on the crouching leg. They seem to be able to sit for hours like that. I tried it once and it was maybe two seconds before I tipped over. He stared ahead as he spoke to me, just casual-like, enquiring what exactly it was I wanted from my life. Well, I didn’t know so I told him so. Jack being there felt quite nice, he wasn’t telling me to conform, it seemed like he even understood when I said I would rather be dead than a villager. He was a companion for a while but he had very little to say, well he never did have. I was sorry when he left me; watching him as he ambled across the paddock I was comparing him with Bix. Bix might have an answer, I thought, if he wasn’t besotted by Ellen. Maybe . . . I let myself dream for a while about Bix rescuing me somehow and making me his own, then I laughed at myself and contemplated my short future.

He left the village, Jack I mean, unexpectedly, just up and goes back to the City. Then there was no one to talk to. I sat and walked in silence; ate, breathed and slept in silence. It tried to suffocate me this silence; I didn’t let it. Jack came back and next thing there’s a Council Meeting called and I am informed I must attend. Why? That was what I demanded from John; he frowned and told me just once in my life to behave myself and let others do the talking, Jack had a plan that might save my skin. I stared at him in total shock, Jack had a plan! Jack! My life, it seemed, was to depend on Jack, who could not string more than a few words together at any one time and then only when prompted. If they had a plan I needed Bix, he could make the Council do anything; what could Jack do?

At the end of that Council Meeting I realised, with some lowering of the spirits, that Jack was my knight in shining armour. He had saved my skin. He had done it by talking slowly and carefully. I called Jack before he left and thanked him as graciously as I could; it was difficult, I couldn’t think straight. Jack was the one? This had been my dragon for sure, but, Jack?

I did try. Mostly I tried. I had never been able to take orders. There never seemed to be any good point to blindly following someone else’s decision on how one should behave. Jack gave them gently enough but they all seemed as pointless as the orders in the village.

He was most insistent I learnt how to obey instantly any order given. Well that wasn’t what I imagined when he said they wanted me to join them. What about equals, I argued. Everyone had to obey orders, he smiled at me, lives might depend on it. I scowled at him; no stupid smiles were going to convince me. Lives might depend on it indeed! Did he think I was a child to be so fooled? Apart from that it wasn’t so bad. I joined him every day and learnt how to build a cottage which, although it wasn’t exciting, was different from the endless chores in the village. He didn’t expect work all day long either; it seemed that long, lazy rests in the sunshine were part of the day as well. It irked me a bit; it did seem a bit wasteful of the daylight but still, if that’s what he wanted.

The crazy thing was they wanted me to teach them how to cook and things. Stuff men don’t normally do. Jack said we all had to know everything, apart from mine clearing of course. On their travels there might just be men; not me, not Ellen just them two and they liked to eat. I didn’t mind, it just seemed odd that’s all. They were good at learning, didn’t have to be told more than a couple of times, which was just as well as they didn’t seem to know much. They couldn’t light a decent fire, cook, chop wood or anything useful. They said they had always had everything given to them, in the army and on the Line. I could see why they needed time to learn skills; even I could do better than them out here.

They were always asking questions: from me, the men, and the Elders. Everything seemed to interest them. It was quite good actually; I got to trail around after them and listen in. You villagers got used to me standing there silently listening. They were both trying to learn everything as fast as they could; it’s not possible in a short time, we had all spent our lives learning to fit into this environment. Even I, who did not fit, knew I would always know more than them. They knew nothing, how could two men be grown without knowing things? This puzzled me for months.

I asked Jack all about being a Rider. As I said, he could talk if someone started it. He was quite interesting really. Life certainly sounded more exciting being a Feral. I asked him a lot about that, about being a Feral I mean. I never really understood about how Ferals came to be, he wasn’t too clear but he did his best.

I asked Bix once but he had told Jack all he knew, it seemed, on the subject. So that was that. I sort of worked out what had happened with the babies and all. After all plants cross-pollinate, I could see how a new species could arise. That seemed the easy part although it appeared the scientists thought it odd. Ah well.

I watched Jack mostly but Bix too when he was in the village, it was usually one or the other; it seemed they were watching Ellen because she couldn’t be trusted to behave herself. Ellen? Maybe I would be able to get along with her after all.

It seemed to me that Jack and Bix had some things in common despite them being so different. What? Well, like they have this stillness about them; I’ve seen them immobile for hours you’d think they were dead, never a twitch. They walk so softly, you must have noticed, that might be soldier training of course; they just seem to appear next to you, make you jump; although I made myself not react, they weren’t going to intimidate me. They never seem to get stiff; you know, long hours in one position and then they could be up and running without a thought and they never seem to tire when they do get going.

I enjoyed watching them both. I like watching, I’m good at it and these two were so unlike any of you villagers. It was interesting, trying to figure out what was human, Feral or just training as a soldier. I watched but I didn’t trust them, not then anyway. I couldn’t figure out why Jack had saved me. What had he saved me for? It didn’t make sense. He said he knew all my bad faults but he never mentioned if he thought I had good points. Why would he, they, want me to join them? They were up to something. I spent many hours trying to understand what it was. I kept my senses alert; one thing was sure, no one was going to get the better of me.

You ask why I agreed to link up with them. Well, I wasn’t exactly weighed down with options or opportunities back then, was I? These Ferals at least gave me a breathing space, and who knows what opportunities, sometime in the future, might come around. Maybe I’d stay with them, maybe move on; I hadn’t decided back then at the beginning. They had given me a way out of the village and I might have been all things stupid but what I wasn’t was imbecilic.

Sometimes they were both together, Ellen being on ambassadorial duties in the City, watched over at a distance by the other Riders. It was then they were also working at clearing the mines for the village and this I watched for many a long time. Here they didn’t play the fool but occasional smiles and muffled laughter showed they were still joking. They were slow and patient, working as close as felted fibres. There, in among the mines, you could see the depth of their friendship; they trusted each other as no other I have seen. They worked and thought as one entity; that fascinated me.

The first field they completed they stood and stripped off their protective clothing, straightened their backs grinned at each other and then, noticing me leaning on the fence, grinned at me. They walked back towards me then Jack scooped up a clod of turf and threw it at Bix who, catching it, hurled it back and within moments they were playing some game, with no rules it seemed to me. How did they dare? What if they had missed a mine? There they were running, jumping, not looking where they put their feet. They were still heading towards my end of the field and then Jack called for me to join them. Join them? How could I know if they had got all the mines out? The villagers had been planning on driving the pigs over to the field to dig up the land and find any mines that had been missed.

Jack stood holding out his hand to me. I saw Bix murmur something but Jack laughed and continued inviting me. I put my foot on the lower rung of the fence and then hesitated. I heard Jack’s voice telling me it was safe, it was fine, come and join in the fun. Ah well, I thought, they wouldn’t willingly put their own lives in danger; if Jack said it was safe it most likely was, and I leapt the fence and ran to join them. It was fun; I discovered the men gave no allowance for me and I had to work hard to keep up with them. When at last the clod finally disintegrated, and we lay on the ground our lungs heaving air, I felt good.

Bix rolled over and ruffled my hair and I didn’t even complain. He smiled and said I had courage and he thought not one of the villagers would have dared until after the pigs. Staring at the sky Jack smiled and I knew this is what he had told Bix, that I had the courage to dare and I felt a warmness, here, you know, that he thought me brave. All of you had watched the game from the fence and then some of the young men ventured into the field, but it had been me there first.

I was giving serious thought to my role amongst the Ferals. Show them how to survive out here away from the City. Sounds easy. No. The more I talked to them, listened to them, watched them the harder that simple request was becoming. They knew nothing, well next to nothing.

Food was the first priority and Barculo had said I could have seed. Now with the field cleared I could start the gardens but we would need more than that. I would stand and stare at the land we had, trying to imagine how we could use it for the best. With Ellen and her children we had to feed four adults and three young growing ones. I would look over at the village with an uncertainty in my mind but one day I took a deep breath to calm fluttering nonsense within me and set of across to Barculo’s homestead.

He welcomed me in politely. I was a little worried when I saw Johnson there, I didn’t know him well and had always got the feeling he didn’t approve of me, or the Ferals. I hesitated a moment and then, looking at Barculo only, asked him where I belonged, the village, or the Ferals.

‘The Ferals’ Johnson said immediately. ‘They agreed to take her on as part of their company.’

‘Yes, but’ Barculo said slowly watching me all the time. It was uncomfortable having an Elder look so, ‘we have laid restrictions on the Ferals. She is not allowed to join them entirely until Ellen comes. We have decreed she cannot live with them until then.’

‘Well no, of course not. We don’t know if she will be safe. I am sure Bix and Jack are trustworthy but we don’t know this. Of course we had to protect the girl.’ Johnson cut in immediately and with some indignation it seemed to me.

I didn’t say anything; indeed I thought maybe they forgot me for a moment.

‘Yes, but why worry about the girl if she is no longer a villager?’ Barculo said and my heart did sink a little; I had thought he would be on my side, but then again why should he be. I felt my heart pounding a little harder as he continued ‘You see, either she is still ours and we protect her or she is the Ferals and then her protection is their business. By restricting her contact with them I think we have signalled that the girl is ours until she has someone who may be able to look out for her.’

I didn’t sigh but I wanted to. I looked at them anxiously as they both turned to look at me again.

‘We seem to have left you in some kind of limbo’ Barculo said slowly. ‘I think you are still a villager. We must, of course, remember that we have granted the Ferals a temporary residence in the village also so they too are villagers of a sort.’

Johnson frowned at this and sat staring at the ground in thought. Looking up he smiled at me.

‘The last comment I think we could discuss further, Barculo, but I agree, I think the girl is ours until such time as Ellen arrives.’

Barculo also smiled at me, was I reassured? He wanted to know, was this the answer I needed? Was all well now? I shook my head and then, taking courage from my pockets, said

‘If I hadn’t done wrong, when I was seventeen you would have given me my own livestock.’ The two men stared at me blankly. I continued as calmly as I could. ‘If I am still a villager will I still have the right to that livestock in three weeks?’

That this was a question they had never considered was so obvious one could have laughed. Before they could say anything I hurried on ‘If the animals haven’t been allocated to anyone else yet please may we have them? The Ferals are no good at catching food and we will need animals.’

Barculo questioned me closely but it was true, Bix and Jack had never had to catch food for themselves. I told him that I had shown them how to use the slingshot and they had managed to down some birds on their travels. Told him that they were using the City’s pastilles for food at the moment but they would soon run out. To survive we needed livestock. So, as they had been allocated to me, if we had them the village wouldn’t have to go short themselves by providing the meat and other products.

He stared for a moment then with no expression in his voice said he would have to discuss something like that with the rest of the Council. I had expected that so wasn’t so despondent but then, when he would have supposed I would leave and made gestures to accompany me out of the door, I said I had more to ask. Johnson muttered that maybe I should sit down; he was getting a crick in his neck looking up at me. So, with great nervousness, I sat and started to outline my plan to them. At the end Johnson asked curiously if this was the Ferals’ plan or mine.

‘Them!’ Maybe I sounded less than polite about my companions so added ‘they don’t even realise they need any of these things’ I said.

‘Do you think maybe they should be consulted?’ He asked quietly.

Frowning at the thought I asked them both if they thought I should and they both agreed. I couldn’t see why myself but I was very young and this was new to me. Barculo showed me out and shook my hand with a smile. I was shocked and embarrassed.

‘I will let everyone know you are still village and will give you an answer on the other matters very soon I promise you and Keira . . . ’ I looked at him anxiously ‘anything you need help on please do feel free to ask. Anyone. We will all help.’

I hadn’t mentioned the conversation to Bix or Jack when Barculo came calling the next morning. They were good at faces, they never let it show that all was new to them. Barculo said the Council accepted my reasoning on the livestock and that of course it was mine and, in the circumstances, they felt not only should I be given it straight away but, as the Ferals had been accepted into the village, extra stock would be allocated. They accepted that pregnant or young animals were of more use to us than not and also agreed in principle my terms on repayment and exchange on grains. Everything I had asked for.

There was some future discussion on this but he, Barculo, said would make sure I was guided well. He smiled at Bix and said he thought I would be of great benefit to his family, better than anyone expected. Bix agreed with a smile and a sideways glance at me. I looked down at the ground and wondered if I was in trouble. Barculo also suggested some other variations on my plans. Which were good, some of them. He extended an open invitation to us all to join the communal meal each day and, when Bix started to protest, said it would help them in their learning, much was discussed during the meal. Bix accepted with a smile, and the three of them chatted for a few moments more before Barculo left us.

Then there was silence, I wouldn’t look up. I knew they were both staring at me.

‘Animals?’ Bix began.

‘More to the point, Bix, where are they going to live, these animals of ours?’ Jack had gone straight to the awkwardness. They waited and eventually when I didn’t move I felt Bix’s hand under my chin as he gently tilted my face up. He didn’t look cross but what did I know of them.

‘He didn’t give me time to tell you.’ I moved my chin from Bix’s hand and sat a little straighter. ‘You need the animals. I made a good deal for you.’

‘Where are they going to live?’ Bix looked at our field, his eyes narrowed, as he calculated. ‘I thought you had sown seeds in there and . . . ’

‘You only have to clear another field, but the Council are alright with the idea, you heard’ I interrupted.

They stared at me for a moment and then started laughing. What was there to laugh at? I frowned at them as they roared merriment.

‘Only clear another field’ I heard Jack say.

‘Oh I am so pleased the Council approve.’ Bix smiled at me when they had finished. ‘Well, Jack lad, it seems we have work to do and there we were thinking we could have a few weeks’ leisure.’

Why had they laughed and why weren’t they angry? I didn’t understand these two at all. I had got them a good deal. We had livestock and by next year we would have increased the numbers well. We could, if the fates that are all things malignant left us alone, have a good surplus the next year. We would have meat and cheese for preserving, fresh milk and eggs for the children, fleeces for our clothes and bedding. The pigs, goats and birds for our fields each year. Manure for the crops. I had bargained some of our surplus for grain and flour. I had done a good deal. Did they appreciate it? Who knows, they laughed too much to make sense.

I did try explaining, once when they were in a more sober mood, how I figured that we needed help; tried to explain the sheer effort and manpower needed to produce food; how with all of us there all the time it would be an almost impossible task.

‘You won’t always be here’ I told them. ‘Ellen you say has to go to other villages and keep going back to the City.’

‘Part of the deal’ Bix nodded.

‘Well, you’ll go with her. Two down.’

‘Jack?’

‘He has to lead your Ferals down the trail for mine clearing’ I retorted. ‘Sometimes you will all be here, sometimes only me and one other and I reckon sometimes only me. And’ I added with a scowl ‘the children.’

I waited but they made no comment and, as I said, I couldn’t read their faces so well back then. ‘I can’t manage livestock, vegetable gardens and grain crops on my own.’ I tried to sound reasonable. ‘I could maybe manage livestock and vegetables with the children’s help and if you two are around at the right time we could manage some hay, maybe some flax and nettle.’

They were still silent, watching me. I found the silence un-nerving and scowled more at them. ‘This is, of course, if all or any of you can learn the skills necessary for it all, which sometimes I doubt.’

Jack laughed softly and then Bix smiled in response. ‘We will try’ he said. ‘We will try.’ He came back to me a couple of days later just before he left for the City again to ask if I was sure I could manage. I knew what had happened. He had been talking to someone in the village, John or Simon probably, and had been told I couldn’t do it. That I wasn’t capable. I put my chin up and stared Bix right in the eye. Told him he shouldn’t listen to malicious gossip. Told him I could do it fine. Told him I could lick even Ferals into shape. Told him I didn’t back out of any commitments made. All I got was laughter back and then half seriously

‘We won’t think less you know if it turns out too difficult.’ It wasn’t a remark I considered needed a reply so I turned on my heel and left him.

We have to shame the devils sometimes and speak truth and the truth was I thought you villagers were right. I didn’t have the skills myself and I had never been in charge of anything let alone livestock and the provisioning of a family. I knew almost as little as the mongrels I was so contemptuous of. My heart would bruise my ribs with its violent racing whenever I stopped to think of my foolishness. Would I admit it? You know that answer, of course not.

I was on at Jack then to get shelters finished for the animals. He and Bix had fenced the first field to secure them in from the mines and had half-cleared the next. It would be enough for me to start. Bix had promised the field would be finished as soon as he returned.

While he was gone I still helped Jack with the cottage when I wasn’t planting and tending our animals and he would often join me, laughing at my seriousness. He learnt because he wanted to lift work from me. He was kind I thought.

Jack and I would talk a lot as we worked. He was interesting when he could be bothered. Likes peace and quiet does Jack. He told me about life as a Feral, how it had happened, a little of what it was like as a boy of ten on the battlefields. How he had met Bix. I wondered about their relationship often when on my own. They were so rude to each other sometimes, yet . . . yet there was this underlying spark of something. We didn’t have that many brothers in the village but Jack and Bix they were, I thought, a bit like that, but it seemed to me it was closer than brothers. It was seen better when they worked the minefields, then it was like they were one. Oh, I don’t know how to say it but they seemed to think the same.

He told me about the mine clearing and riding the Sefuty Line. I asked about the bars and he smiled and said some things were best left alone. He told me about Ellen. We had all wondered about what Ellen had done, it never made sense to us that she would allow alteration to Feral. Can’t say I was much clearer after he explained.

‘It was a kind of gesture’ Jack said hesitantly. ‘She was saying she was for Bix for all time. No going back to the City if life wasn’t to her liking.’

‘Rubbish gesture’ was my reply. ‘She could have come with Bix without Alteration. She might have died.’ Really, I did think it was stupid. Jack laughed and rubbed my head saying I was no romantic. Well I wasn’t. Romance, well that was for ‘Once upon a time’ stories, real life is real life.

I was interested in Ellen’s behaviour as she waited to be released from the City. Jack told me about the wall climbing and why there had to be someone with her all the time. How tall was the wall? I asked, thinking of our house walls in the village. Jack said they were much higher. How much? He looked around then pointed at our tallest tree. At least as high as that, maybe higher. I stared at the tree and thought of it made of bricks. Ellen had climbed it in the dark! I tried to put Ellen in my mind climbing the tree of bricks and it didn’t seem to be correct. I frowned over the information for so long Jack had slept in the sun again, as he does.

Then he told me about her trying to walk outside, about the blinkers a Feral called Matt had designed for her. Blinkers? Jack demonstrated for me. I smiled at the thought of Ellen so neat and trim stumbling in blinkers. I did know it wasn’t funny though. I’ve been scared often enough to know what efforts Ellen was making to get outside with Bix and the children. I was mixed about it, part of me said I could deal with someone like her the other, bigger, bit said beware of her: too good, too well loved.

I would tell him about the village, about you all. Maybe I wasn’t so kind in describing some of you but Jack, it seemed, was able to sort the spite from the truth. I tried to explain our seasons. Told him what I knew of the history of Blaisemill. Talked about the celebrations we had, when seasons were kind. How hard life was if seasons turned away from the expected.

I told him about the little school, this seemed to interest him. Ferals, it seems, have no schooling and Ellen had very little. I knew our Elders were interested in the Child Exchange Programme that Ellen was working on. Me? I thought it daft and dangerous. What did we know about the City except that they entrapped you inside rings of death for decades, turned their children into mongrels to die on the battlefields and grew babies in the science rooms? I thought it stupid, stupid to have anything to do with the City. So I told Jack, he just smiled and said nothing was simple. Well, I know when I’m being patted on the head even if it’s only a thought so I left him, a scowl on my brow and his laughter on the air behind me.

I asked Jack about the feral when we were sitting in the evening sunshine. I like to know things, why cat I wanted to know. The surprise was that it wasn’t cat.

‘Mixture of genes, Rags, whatever was useful for a fighting man I guess.’

I thought about that one for a while. It made more sense than cat; after all soldiers fight in groups didn’t they, cats don’t do that. It was difficult though to drop the notion of cat. Something to do with their silence and patience I supposed. Mentioned it and Jack agreed. He smiled at me.

‘Marshal wanted us to be as safe as possible. To begin with it was straight forward gene exchange; I believe over the years it’s become less haphazard, less dangerous an operation, better. Oh, I don’t understand all the ins and outs. Our sight, hearing, reactions have all been fine tuned over the years. Our muscles have been redefined; heart and lungs all work slightly differently to yours.’

I looked up at him with a frown as I listened, such a mixture of changes. Did it make him a bit feral a lot of human or all feral I asked. Rude you say? Well yes, I suppose, but I was with them, had a right to know I thought, so I asked. Anyway he didn’t think it was rude, considered it carefully. Told me he didn’t know, apparently Bix was considered more feral than human so he thought he might be as well. The city no longer considered them human apparently. Was what had shocked them when Ellen became pregnant, it shouldn’t have happened.

We were both silent for a while, then I asked him why they were called Ferals. I had always thought feral meant wild, untamed, mean and vicious.

‘And you don’t think we are any of those?’ He laughed at my frowns but I didn’t mind that much, I shook my head.

‘You follow orders, hardly untamed; have discipline, not wild and have you seen Bix with Ellen, hardly mean and vicious. Why Feral?’ He didn’t answer so I untangled it myself and after a while hesitantly tried it out on him. ‘Because everyone thinks that’s what feral means. If you are known as having feral genes, and you are called Ferals everyone will know not to … they will know you are to be feared.’

His smile of satisfaction told me I was right. I smiled a bit too. It made such sense I approved straight away.

‘Don’t think for one moment, Rags, though that we can’t be any of those things. We are fighters who never take prisoners and never surrender. When we fight we are like Ferals trust me.’ He sounded a bit grim but when I glanced at him it seemed he smiled still and I didn’t take his words seriously. Not then.

‘So why the madness gene?’ was what I asked next, that last one worried me a little I have to say. He shook his head. ‘Isn’t there a madness gene either?’ I wasn’t so shocked this time, he smiled.

‘Its bats.’

‘Bats? Bats like those . . . ?’ I didn’t know what to say; scared I would say something stupid.

‘Um, those little furry flying mice that come out in the evening. Bats.’

‘But bats aren’t mad’ I argued and then ‘are they?’

‘Neither are the Ferals’ Jack said mildly, but with a grin which I thought, sourly, looked a bit insane.

‘Why then?’ I dragged it out.

‘Bix asked Ellen to find out. Marshal thought it was to do with a very old expression, oh years before the great wars when people were called batty if they were a little, you know, crazy. He wasn’t sure about it, muttered something about belfries, and when Ellen asked what belfries were he said it was to do with churches …’ I had to interrupt, belfries, churches, what were either of those? Jack confessed he hadn’t any idea. ‘We never got beyond that; anyway it’s nothing to do with insanity. Rest assured little one.’

I turned away at that. Stared across the paddocks, looking at, but not seeing, the animals going about their lives. Thinking about madness genes. It was known the Ferals were mad. If they weren’t mad why the alteration? What did they need that the feral didn’t give them? What could they possibly need from a bat? I didn’t know so much about bats, why would I? They flew, ate insects, came out in the evening and roosted high. Nothing there for the Ferals.

I’m not sure how long we sat there; Jack said nothing as is his way. Just enjoying the sunshine while it lasted. The long shadows of the evening had melted into the twilight when I turned towards him again.

‘The feral gives you speed, good sight, hearing and hunting patience; the bats must have something special to offer, for that alteration.’ He smiled faintly, his eyes closed. I hesitated and spoke slowly because I was thinking out loud; you know, teasing it out as I spoke. ‘They are good at hunting because they can find the insects by some kind of sound, I’m not sure what; something nothing else can hear, or something like that.’

He didn’t speak. There had to be more then. He wasn’t going to tell me, but what did I know about bats, or was it about Ferals I needed to know about? I tried to recall every book I had ever read, which had mentioned bats? What else did bats do apart from fly around in the dark?

‘They don’t bump into things in the dark, not because they can see well’ I said slowly ‘but because of this sound thing, they make a noise and . . . oh, I can’t remember.’ I was frustrated; you know when you have something just there at the edge of your thoughts and it darts away and gets lost?

‘Sound bounces from objects back to them’ he offered helpfully.

‘Yes, but you can see in the dark with the feral’ I objected. ‘You don’t need that.’ Then I thought I might have it. ‘Is there something else they can hear that no one else can hear, can locate something that people need to know about?’ I thought wildly, I knew I was almost there, could feel Jack waiting. What did Ferals need, why would those evil scientists put bat genes in the children? Why, why?

‘Bombs? No, no something that can’t be seen normally.’ Then with a clearness like well water I knew I had it. ‘I know. It’s the mines isn’t it? The land mines, can they hear the land mines. Are the mines making a noise?’ I was facing him, excited, I was sure I was right; Jack was grinning again.

‘Well, it’s not hearing like we know it, but all to do with sound waves; but, yes, you’re right it’s the land mines, clever girl.’

I liked the praise, I was proud of myself. I smiled, then felt shy and turned away from his pleasure.

‘So, they let people think it was madness . . .to keep them fearing you more?’

‘Uh huh, the bats in the belfry stayed as madness gene. All to do with our image.’

The elation of working it out vanished as I thought about it all. Part of me had wanted the madness. With madness I felt I would belong more. Without thinking I sighed. Ah well.

‘Rags?’ Jack was looking intently at me. No hope the twilight would hide my face, they could see long past this hour. I turned my face away, but he turned it back with his hand. ‘What?’

I shrugged. It wasn’t a subject I wanted to discuss.

‘Did you want us to be mad?’ He was puzzled.

He was on the scent now but I made him work as hard as he had made me. I knew him well enough even then to know he wouldn’t leave it. I had to admit eventually that I had thought to be more like them, to blend in better.

‘You think you’re mad?’

I hesitated, did I trust this man enough I wondered. I wanted to, but did I? Would he laugh? I asked him.

‘No laughing Rags, that’s a promise. Come on, tell.’

Promises, I’d had them before, I knew what they could be worth. I studied my fingers. After a moment he said softly

‘A Feral promise, Rags’

Was that supposed to be different? I looked up at him for a moment. He must have seen the doubt.

‘Ferals take promises very seriously, made seldom but must be honoured or they are disgraced. We say only death can prevent a promise being redeemed and maybe not even then.’

He could just have been