Chapter 5

Goraal had arrived at Tambuk pretty late and stayed the night, but he’d left there very early and the train that should have gone the afternoon before was ready to go as soon as he arrived. “With luck the whole line’s back on schedule now. At least we know it’s all clear, there’s just some very minor landslips to clear up, nothing that affects normal working.”

A goatshed roof had collapsed at Belgaam, killing a couple of goats, and a landslide into the river at Embrouha had caused a wave that swamped a couple of small boats, but as far as Goraal had heard, nobody had been hurt anywhere. It had been a fairly minor quake – it was rather unlucky that even a goatshed had suffered.

Peyr explained how it had been a landslide into the river, combined with a damaged dam further upstream, that had caused the flood at Briggi after the quake when Berraam was killed. It had been very lucky that Briggi wasn’t flooded. It was only saved by the fact that the dam hadn’t been very full. Half the men of Briggi had worked like madmen for a couple of weeks to clear the blockage in the river before the thaw, which they knew would have flooded Briggi badly.

Our first wagon was taken over by the workmen going out to the landslips. Every train for several days was going to have one wagon reserved for the workmen. We had to stop several times to drop a few men off at each place where there was work to do, and were a bit late at Tambuk; but Diraan was late too. He’d been dropping workmen off here and there on the run from Kaahes as well; but beyond Kaahes the line was apparently unaffected.

“We’ll probably be back on schedule before we get home,” Peyr said.

Before we left Tambuk, Tambuk’s son brought several big parcels of cloth, and Peyr hid them away under the cab floor. “Is there still room for you in there, Owen? Or should I get Tamun to take one of the parcels back until my next trip?”

“Oh, I’ll squeeze in somehow. I know the routine now, and it’s not for long.”

After Tambuk, we had to stop several times to pick up workmen going home to Kaahes after their shifts.

We stopped for lunch in Kaahes. Peyr warned me, “Watch out for those two girls at Belgaam. We’ll be staying there again tonight. I saw how they were eyeing you up. They’re both on the lookout for a nice young man. There’s no-one the right age for them in Belgaam who’s not already spoken for, apart from a couple of lads who are a bit dim, to put it mildly. And they’ll guess this may be the last chance they’ll have to get at you for ages.”

I wondered what exactly Peyr thought they might do. Try to get into bed with me and then insist that I had to marry them? Perhaps with the threat of violence from their family? I didn’t feel able to ask. I was getting into aspects of culture where I needed to know the rules but was unable to find out.

Or did he have his eye on me for his own daughter, and didn’t want competition? He didn’t have to worry on that score. Those two girls seemed nice enough, but they’d not had the same effect on me that Aila had had, not in the slightest. Whether I really wanted to get involved with Aila or not I really didn’t know, but I knew that I didn’t want to get involved with anyone else just at the moment.

I wondered how on Earth I could find out the things I needed to know without asking directly, without letting Peyr know what I was fishing for. Things had seemed so simple, by comparison, in Laanoha – but probably only because I’d been shut up in their room most of the time, or out on the street where everyone was a bit wary of strangers.

I needn’t have worried. Peyr realized I’d gone a bit thoughtful, and guessed why. Back in the cab, he broached the subject again. “You don’t know the rules of the game here at all, do you? Don’t worry too much. They won’t try to blackmail you or anything like that. They’ll try to find out as much as they can about you, and advertise themselves to you as subtly as they can, but that’s all. They’ll just try to make sure you want to be in Belgaam as often as you can, nothing more than that for the moment. They’ll know they’re winning if you land there for the night with one of the other drivers, when I’m on one of the other shifts! For the time being, they’ll be allies, but if once they think they’ve hooked you, they’ll each be trying to catch you for themselves.”

It seemed to be more a bit of a laugh to Peyr than anything else, but I suspected there was a serious undercurrent in relation to his own daughter. But that question could wait for the moment.

Forewarned is forearmed. Whether I’d even have noticed the girls’ behaviour if Peyr hadn’t said anything I don’t know. He was right that they’d be subtle, but he was also right that they’d be trying to impress me, and trying to find out as much about me as they could. I spoke less than I could have, hiding behind my limited knowledge of Laana. Peyr played along with them, seeing that I was taking heed of his warning, and not wanting to sour the atmosphere.

After an excellent dinner, we all chatted late into the night, but they learnt little about me beyond what they knew already: that I was a foreigner. Everything was very friendly though, we slept well, they made us an excellent breakfast, and we parted with a friendly, “See you soon!” with no actual mention of when or even whether I’d be travelling that way again.

Then we were gaining speed again, leaving Belgaam behind. “You actually understood quite a lot of the chatter, didn’t you? I think even the locals could tell that. They’ll think you’re the strong silent type rather than really not understanding. Those girls have probably got even more interested now!”

“Maybe. Things don’t always work out the way one intends. But as long as I don’t get flirty with them, everything should be all right, shouldn’t it?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. For a while, certainly, but it could get awkward if you spend the night here often. A pity, this shift gives more time in Briggi than the other shifts – two nights and a whole day rather than just one night and two bits. I think you liked Briggi, didn’t you? Even though we didn’t get as long there as we should have done. It’d be good to get to know it better, and better to meet Graamon on his own territory in Briggi than in Laanoha.”

“I rather wished I’d met Graamon on this trip – but maybe it’ll be better if my Laana improves a bit before I meet him really anyway.”

“That’s good thinking. I have a feeling that Graamon may be the man to find work for you, with your technical knowledge, and the better your Laana is when you first meet him the better, for that. Maybe it’s a pity we asked his landlady to put him in touch with us!”

“Maybe, but what’s done is done, and it seemed the right thing to do at the time. I don’t suppose it matters a lot anyway. You could waste an entire lifetime waiting for the right time to do something. I’ll do my best to improve as fast as I can, anyway.”

I rather wondered whether at this stage my knowledge would improve faster, and be more impressive to Graamon – I was already thinking in those terms! Oh well – if I learnt to read and write Laana as well. But how could I broach the subject without insulting someone? I’d seen no evidence of any of my friends reading or writing. I had a suspicion that Judd might be able to. But only a suspicion, no actual evidence.

And what about Aila? I was sure that Graamon must be literate.

“How often would ‘too often’ be? Do you think it’d be okay to overnight at Belgaam maybe twice more? Once next trip, to get a better look at Briggi, then miss one trip, then one more to try actually to find somewhere to stay? That’s if Graamon hasn’t sought us out by then, of course.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’ll either visit us or get a message to me to send you to him before that. You might manage that first trip in three weeks’ time, but I’d be very surprised if he leaves it nine weeks.”

We must have met someone at Sirimi junction, but I really can’t remember who, whether we had to wait for them or vice-versa. It was all getting to be such a familiar routine – and it’s got so much more familiar since, of course.

We must have had lunch at Raamba, too, or picked up a packed lunch to eat in the cab, I really don’t remember which.

I do remember stopping at the Sirimi Road crossing, though. The lady who’d waved from her gig was there. Peyr was already slowing down before the crossing came into sight, because he was expecting her. Her horse was waiting patiently with the gig, by the big rock I’d stood on three weeks and two days earlier, and she was standing on the road, right by the railway. Peyr’s control of his train was perfect: he rolled to a halt with the cab right beside her, with only the tiniest touch of the brakes at the last moment – not like the time he’d stopped for me, when he wasn’t expecting anyone, and he’d stopped with a great squealing of brakes.

She held out a paper note, and Peyr reached down to take it, but as she reached up to give it to him, she spotted me in the cab. She looked surprised, and said to Peyr, “A moment – don’t set off straight away. I know your friend!”

So she was from the big house!

Peyr climbed down from the cab, and beckoned to me to climb down too. The lady startled me greatly by giving me a big hug, and then held me at arm’s length by the shoulders, and said, “I’d ask you how you were, if I thought you’d understand!”

Peyr laughed, “You’d be surprised how much he does understand, lady, with him only having been learning Laana for three weeks.”

I was abashed, and stammered, “I’m very well, thank you. Peyr and his family have been looking after me very well.”

The lady looked me up and down, and said, “Your pronunciation is very good! Someone has been teaching you well, not just looking after you. But you must be a good student, too. Maybe we should have tried to keep you at Siroha. But what’s done is done, it seemed right to let you go when you seemed to want to go. But you must visit us some time! Everyone will want to hear your story now you can talk, and there are always interesting people here for you to listen to as well. When will you be able to come?”

I didn’t know what to say. I quite liked the idea of visiting the big house and its people again, but I wasn’t sure what Peyr would think, and didn’t want to upset him. However interested I was in the big house and its people, I valued Peyr’s friendship far more.

Peyr saw my confusion. “I’m sure Owen would love to visit you some time, lady. Just now he has commitments in Laanoha, but I’ll be here again on my next trip and we’ll work out when would be convenient for him and for you.”

“Very good. I’ll be here. We have some of his things up at the house, too. Owen, did you say his name is? Owen’s things. One of the shepherds found them up on the hill. I could bring them down on the big cart if you like, but I don’t know how you’d carry them on the train, unless you can open one of the wagons.”

The shepherd must have been totally mystified by my things, but it must have been immediately obvious to the people in the big house that they belonged to me, once they’d seen them. No wonder they wanted to hear my story! They’d probably been very puzzled by the sudden arrival of a foreigner so far from the coast or the border anyway.

“I’d be very grateful if you brought me some of my clothes. We could carry them on the train easily enough. But if you don’t mind keeping the other things for the moment that would be kind – I’ll have to work out what to do with them.”

I was thinking that Graamon would want to see them, and would know how to move them; but I didn’t want to say anything about Graamon, at least not without talking to Peyr first.

“That’s fine. There’s plenty of storage space at Siroha, it’s no trouble at all. I’ll bring your clothes down here and meet you on your next trip.”

“It might be just me, Owen might not be with me for a few weeks. But I can take them anyway, that’s not a problem.”

I don’t know whether the lady noticed the meaningful glance Peyr shot at me, but she didn’t react at all even if she did. I kept quiet.

“We’d better be getting along, anyway,” Peyr said, “Don’t want to keep Berraami waiting at Elbrouha. See you in four days’ time then.”

“Okay. I’ll have Owen’s clothes for you. Bye.”

“It’s good they’ve found my things. It’ll be nice to have some more of my own clothes – and there’s more warm clothes than I’ll ever need, if any of the rest of you would like some of them. And I expect Graamon will be interested to see some of my ballooning equipment.”

“I’m sure he will. I’d quite like to take a look at it myself, but he’ll understand what you did much better, I’m sure.”

“Some of the stuff is too big to carry on the engine, and I presume we can’t put anything in a wagon. Do you think Graamon will have some method of moving it? Or maybe he’ll be quite happy to look at it where it is – I don’t really want it all for anything other than showing to him. Or to anyone else who might find it interesting, of course.”

“Oh, lots of people will find it interesting – but it’ll only be idle curiosity in most cases. Graamon may be only person to really make use of what he learns from you. And he’ll find a way to move it if he decides he wants to – he could commandeer a wagon on a train any time he wants, they wouldn’t dare to refuse him. Oh, another thing is that if Graamon wants you to work for him, he’ll tell the railway to get papers for you. That would be really good – they’d be pretty good papers, and you could come and go whenever and wherever you like, all open and above board. I think there’s a pretty good chance of that.”

I wondered how, or whether, to raise the question of visiting Siroha, and decided not to say anything for the moment. Peyr definitely hadn’t seemed keen on the idea of me going there, and I didn’t want to seem keen if he wasn’t. He might or might not say anything sooner or later. I thought it might be best if we’d discussed it before he met the lady again in four days’ time – I didn’t think I’d be there then.

At Elbrouha there was no friendly, “All clear. Berraami’s on her own.” from Peyr. I had to stay hidden down the side of the engine. I heard Peyr talking with two other men, but there was no trace of a woman’s voice. I waited. I knew there must have been a stranger on the other train, someone who couldn’t be allowed to know about my presence in Peyr’s train. I would have to wait quietly where I was until we set off, before I’d be able to go back to the cab.

It seemed an eternity. I was sure we’d not stopped long at Elbrouha before, but the waiting just went on and on.

It turned out that Berraami and Laar had been asked to swap shifts because a special passenger had asked to travel on that train, and the company didn’t want even to raise the question of whether he minded sharing the cab with a woman for two days. Then the special passenger had insisted on having a packed lunch at Elbrouha instead of getting a cooked meal at Raamba, “We arrive at Raamba too late for lunch,” he’d apparently said. He’d also insisted that both drivers should eat with him.

“Damned selfish idiot,” said Peyr as we accelerated out of the loop. “That’s going to make the entire railway run an hour late for the rest of the day. I hope that either they’ve not told Bereg that I’ll have eaten already, or he’s remembered that you’ll be with me and realized that you’ll still want something even if I’ve eaten.”

They hadn’t told Bereg, and he had food for both Peyr and me. “Ah well, don’t waste it. We’ll all fatten up a bit against lean times later,” he said. “They’ll be annoyed at Raamba, though, a meal ready and no-one paying for it.”

“Jinni will be chafing at the bit, wondering where her sister’s got to, fed and ready to set off as soon as she arrives. Then she’ll see it’s Laar, but not want to spend time walking half a train length to meet him and find out what’s going on. Tell you what – keep the chap at Raamba sweet. Here’s the money for the wasted meal, you give it to him when you get there. Laar would have wanted to, but won’t have been able to.”

“No, you keep your money, Peyr. I’ll pay him myself. Otherwise, if it turns out that Laar’s managed to pay him already, or he won’t take the money, I’ll end up with your money in my pocket.”

“Okay, if you don’t mind. We ought to be able to claim it back off the company, but I think it’s probably best to swallow it ourselves.”

“I’m sure it is!”

Bereg helped us load up with firewood and fill the water tank, and we were off again.

The sun set while we were on the long, sloping viaduct approaching the mountains. By the time we reached the end of the viaduct, the mountains looked black against an angry red sky, and the valley below us was almost invisible.

We had to wait at a signal before we entered the tunnel where our branch line joins the main line – there was a train coming up on the main line. Far below us and about to go underneath the viaduct behind us, we could see its headlight. Behind the headlight, its two fires illuminated the clouds of smoke and steam its two engines were making. They were making a huge noise. It was a passenger train, going at a good pace despite climbing hard.

“They’re late, too. They’re supposed to go through just before us even when we’re running on time. I wonder what happened to them? They’ll be glad we were even later, or they’d be stuck behind us all the way to Laanoha.”

“Wouldn’t the signalmen have held us up to let them through first?”

“Not if we’d arrived before they were in sight. They wouldn’t know how late the main line might be.”

“I’d not thought about that before. If each signalbox is in sight of the next, how does it work through the tunnel here?”

“There are two relay boxes up on the mountain. You can’t see them from the trains, but the signalman in the box down there by the main line can see the first one. The signal here is operated by a wire running over pulleys all the way from the box by the main line. It’s a horrible job being signalman in the relay boxes. All the other signalmen can ride on the trains to get to and from work, or they live near their boxes. But it’s a hell of a walk up to those boxes on the mountain, especially in bad weather. And lugging the wood up to them for the fire is no joke, either.”

“Do they get paid extra?”

“Not really. They usually work long shifts, and they get paid extra for that, but nothing more than the standard rate for long shifts. In winter they often stay up there for a week at a time, two of them taking alternate eleven hour shifts, with two hours off when there’s no trains in the small hours – except that in winter so many trains are running so late that there’s often no off time at all. And they don’t get paid extra for being there when they’re not on duty. But a job’s a job, it’s better than starving.”

“Someone must have to come here to look after the light in this signal, too.”

“Theoretically, the signalman in the box down by the main line is supposed to keep an eye on it – clean the lens and top up the oil once a week, check the wick, things like that. He can see if it goes out from his box okay. But in practice us drivers do it. It’s no trouble to us, and it’d be a real chore for the signalman, it’s a hell of a climb up the path from the box. In the dark, if the signal’s not lit, we stop and deal with it. Shiim got into trouble about it once – he’d got a railway official on board, and it was out. The company expect the signalman to do it, because every time a driver stops here when there isn’t actually a train due on the main line it costs ten or fifteen minutes running time, and a few coins in fuel. Big deal! But they could tell we do it anyway, because the path up from the signalbox is all overgrown – well, they could tell if they ever bothered to look.”

The signal changed, Peyr pulled the lever that opened the steam valve, and slowly we got moving. Setting off up that steep incline, I could understand why it cost ten or fifteen minutes of running time to stop there, although maybe that was a slight exaggeration, and nobody really seemed to take time very seriously anyway. The railway official travelling with Shiim had probably just been impatient and irritable when the train took so long to get up any speed again, and then felt the need to justify himself.

“I suppose they don’t mind the main line trains stopping for signalmen going to and from their boxes, because it’s not on a steep incline so it doesn’t take long to get going again?”

“They don’t stop, they just slow down. And not as slow as I go for you or Aila or Yaani to get on or off.”

A goods train passed us going the other way just before the end of the tunnel. I wondered whether it was the next one heading onto the branch line or a main line one, but didn’t ask Peyr. He seemed deep in thought.

“Poor Berraami’s awfully late, to be behind that main line train. Two trains behind where she should have been anyway, with getting swapped with Laar.”

We’d almost stopped at Aila’s village when Aila appeared alongside the train, and clambered aboard. She had a rucksack on her back.

“Don’t stop, Dad. I’ve got food for all three of us. I’m coming home, I’ve got a few days’ holiday. You’re awfully late, I’m freezing.”

Peyr put several more lumps of wood on the fire, and drew air through the fire with a jet of steam up the chimney. The fire perked up immediately. He opened the steam valve wider and we began to pick up speed again.

“Well, that makes up a bit of our lost time, anyway. And it’ll be nice to have you home for a few days. Nice for Owen to have someone more his own age around, too, not just us oldsters and young Grim.”

“Subtlety isn’t your style, is it, Dad?”

Peyr grinned. “I’m an engine driver, not a diplomat.”

You’d make a better diplomat than most diplomats I’ve met, I thought, but I didn’t say anything. My face felt hot. I couldn’t really see Aila’s expression in the firelight, so I guessed they couldn’t see mine, either.

“What did you think of Briggi, Owen?”

“What I saw of it, I liked. But we didn’t see all that much – we were nearly a day late arriving, because of the earthquake.”

“Oh, goodness, yes. I’d forgotten about that. It was only a little tremor in Baragi, but it must’ve been much worse up north. Where were you, and what was it like?”

Peyr answered while I was still trying to remember the place’s name. “We were at Tambuk. It wasn’t too bad, but you should have seen Owen jump! He’d have run outside sharpish, but we told him Tambuk’s built to stand a lot more than a little shake like that. Faahiha was there, going the other way, and we all stopped the night there, rather than crawl along in the dark looking out for landslips. So we got to Briggi about eighteen hours late. I was hoping we’d meet Graamon there – Owen’s got some stories I’m sure Graamon will want to hear. Well, you will too, and everyone else, but Graamon especially. But he wasn’t there, he was visiting Meyroha.”

Aila laughed. “Yes, the grapevine has some interesting stories about that! But you probably know more than I do.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know much at all – his landlady said he’s often in Meyroha these days, and she wondered if he might have a girlfriend there, but it was just speculation. That was the first I’d heard at all. For all I know he could have a railway project that takes him there a lot.”

“Oh, I do know a fair bit more than that, then. He’s been seen going to Meyroha on passenger trains, very smart. He always used to travel on goods engines. He still does, on the branch line. If he was going to Meyroha, he used to change trains at Baragi, but now he goes right into Laanoha, smartens up, and gets the passenger train. More than that is just guesswork as far as I know, though.”

“Well, it could be politics, I suppose – but it could be a girl, who knows? A good thing if it is. Fun to keep guessing, but we’ll probably know one way or the other soon enough.”

“Don’t the passenger trains stop in Baragi?”

“Not normally, no. There’s no platform there, for one thing, and for another there’s only one family there who ever use passenger trains. Normally they take a carriage or a gig into Laanoha, and on the rare occasions one of them wants to go to Meyroha or Briggi, they catch the train in Laanoha. Jerem did once get the train from Meyroha to drop him off in Baragi though. They had to stop completely, he wasn’t taking any chances. He even wanted them to charge him a smaller fare for the shorter journey, but they said he was lucky they weren’t charging him extra for the unscheduled stop.”

“Jerem’s the eldest son in the house where Aila works. They’re the only family in Baragi with any money to speak of. He’s got a girlfriend in Kromaan, but it’s a bit of a stormy relationship, I think.”

“I’m not sure he still has, actually, Dad. If he has, it’s a bigger storm than usual at the moment. He took the gig into Laanoha this morning. He asked me if I wanted to go with him rather than waiting for you this evening. I said I was on duty until two. Gamaara laughed after he’d gone, and said I was a sensible girl preferring to travel in the train with my old Dad!”

“You don’t think Jerem’s got his eye on you, do you?”

“Who knows? He wouldn’t want to marry me, that’s for sure, and I wouldn’t want him if he did. If he tried anything else he’d learn that he’d bitten off more than he could chew, and I know his parents would take my side too.”

“It’s good to be with a family where you can be confident of that.”

“It is, and I’ll stick with it a while. But Gamaara’s been teaching me to read and write, and I’m thinking to try to get a teaching job if I get good enough. They won’t want a nanny in Baragi any more when the little ones get bigger, and Gamaara thinks I’m clever enough to be a good teacher.”

So Aila is learning to read and write. There’s an interesting snippet of information!

“That’s a thing I’d been wondering about. In England, there are places – schools we call them in English – where children go for a few hours most days, where teachers teach them all sorts of things. I don’t know whether there’s anything like that here.”

“Only for children with rich parents! But surely that’s the same in England? The word is adpaask in Laana.”

“Well, for bigger children, yes – thirteen and up. But there are schools for every child from seven to twelve, free for those who can’t afford the fees. Not every child attends of course, but there are theoretically places for them all if they wanted to. In some areas, if they all tried to attend, there suddenly wouldn’t be enough places for them, but in most areas most children go to school for at least those six years.”

“Oh my goodness – so different! Here only rich people send their children to school, and not all of them, and never beyond about eleven or twelve years old. But some of them start at three or four, but that’s normally more like childminding than teaching – really just a way of having your children looked after a bit cheaper than having a nanny.”

Then Peyr broached a subject I’d hoped he would raise before too long. “Aila – you don’t know whether Gamaara or any of them know the people at Siroha, do you?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never heard them mention the place. Whereabouts is it? I can ask when I’m back in Baragi if you like.”

“It’s halfway up the road to Sirimi. It’s where Owen stayed the second night after he arrived. One of the ladies from there is one of Yaana’s customers, but she spotted Owen in the cab, and she’s very keen for Owen to go back and visit them again. I just hoped you knew something about them, but she’ll be there again on my next run so you won’t be able to find out anything before that. I wonder who else might know anything about them?”

“Well, there’s Gamaara’s sister. She lives up near the castle. I know where, and I’ve met her in Baragi a few times. But I don’t know her well enough to ask her about things like that. I can ask Gamaara anything, she doesn’t mind at all.”

“And if you can’t, I certainly can’t. But maybe your mother could, mothers of daughters your age can ask all kinds of things people like you and me can’t.”

“Dad! I don’t want my employers getting to hear that my family’s asking questions like that on my behalf, thank you. Anyway, it’s for Owen’s benefit, not mine.”

“No, I suppose not. And your mother can only ask on Owen’s behalf if it’s indirectly asking on your behalf, and you don’t want anyone thinking that, either.”

“Well, no, you’re right, I don’t want them thinking that.”

I still couldn’t see Aila’s expression, but I could hear the change in her tone of voice, and my heart gave a little leap. Her tone had said, it’s true, but I don’t want them thinking that.

Peyr had obviously heard it too. He laughed, put his arm round his daughter’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

It really was very cramped under the floor of the cab, with even more – or bigger, I wasn’t sure which – parcels under there with me. Aila was very concerned, and adjusted the parcels around me to make me as comfortable as she could. Peyr shut me in with a laugh, and I could hear him joking with Aila, “How long should we keep him in prison, then?”

“Dad! Don’t be horrible!”

I tried to say, “Don’t worry, I know he’s joking,” but I don’t think they could hear me.

Then the clattering of the metal bridge under our wheels drowned out whatever else they might have been talking about above me, and I was left to my own thoughts.

Peyr knows I like Aila. Aila probably knows too. Aila likes me, and Peyr and I know that as well. How serious is she? How seriously does Peyr take it all? How serious am I? If I’m serious, what should I do now? What if she’s not serious? And if I’m not serious and she is, then what?

Who can I ask about this kind of thing? Not Peyr. Judd? I don’t think so.

Inspiration: Yaana. Not Yaani, definitely, but Yaana. Yes. She’ll tell me straight, and won’t break any confidences. And I get to spend plenty of time alone with her, making clothes.

Or did. Will I, now Aila’s at home for a few days?

Ah well, who knows? What will happen, will happen.

Look at yourself, Owen – you’re beginning to think like a Laanohan, and thinking in Laanohan expressions.

Nothing wrong with that – and it’s probably the same as thinking like a Briggian or a Meyrohan for that matter. They all speak the same language, and it’s called Laana, not Meyra. Why? What is this country called? Is it a country at all, or just an area of the world? They talk about “the border”, so it must be a country. Or am I misunderstanding that word?

I am a Laanohan now, sort of. I’ll be more Laanohan than English before long. And actually, I think there are differences between Laanohans and Briggians, anyway – hard to tell after just one day in Briggi, but that was definitely my first impression. I think I might actually like Briggians better – but I like Laanohans a lot, too. At least, I like this family. Shouldn’t generalize from the particular!

Now there’s a very English thought. Thought in English, not Laana, too.

Ah, well. How much longer stuck in here? We must be near the end of the bridge by now.

Perfect timing; at that very moment, the clattering stopped. We were coasting, steadily losing speed as we climbed the slope up into the city. The railway sloped, but the ground rose steeply, the streets zig-zagging up the hill, with staircases as short cuts for pedestrians. Even the staircases zig-zagged in places. But the railway went from a high level bridge into a cutting through the top of the hill. We rolled to a halt at the summit in the cutting, where the city guards were waiting for us.

Somehow everything seemed to go more smoothly than before – possibly something to do with there being a pretty girl in the cab with the driver. Most of the exchanges were too indistinct for me to hear what was being said, but there was no mistaking the last words of the guard who’d climbed into the cab, “Sorry to have kept you so long, Miss.”

Then I heard him climb down, and we were off again. Moments later I was climbing out of my prison, and helping Peyr and Aila to get the parcels out. Yaani was already alongside, complaining about having to wait so long in the cold, but jokingly, knowing it wasn’t Peyr’s fault.

“Is everything good at Baragi, Aila? Are you okay?”

“Don’t worry, Mum. I’ve just got four days’ leave, that’s all.”

The last parcel went over the side, followed by Aila, and finally me. I didn’t miss my footing this time, but Grim was there ready in case I did. Yaana had already gone with the first few parcels, but this time there were so many that Grim and Yaani had an armful each, too.

Nobody had mentioned that there was a surprise waiting for us back at the room. Grim and Yaani led the way up the stairs, and when Grim opened the door, I could see that the oil lamp, which Yaana couldn’t reach and which was never left bright when everyone was out, was already bright. I guessed there was a visitor, but I’d no idea who it might be. Aila was in front of me, and she didn’t say anything, but from behind I saw her put her hand to her mouth in surprise.

A rich, deep voice came from somewhere near the fireplace, “Aila! What a pleasant surprise!”, then, as I entered and saw the speaker – a tall spare man of an age difficult to guess, but neither young nor old – he addressed me, “You must be Owen. I’m very pleased to meet you. I would greet you in English, but I’m afraid I know only a few words, and I’ve no idea how to pronounce them.”

For a moment, I was dumbfounded. Then I realized that he must be Graamon, but I wasn’t confident enough to say, “You must be Graamon. I’m very pleased to meet you too.” I didn’t know what to say for a moment, then mumbled, “Yes, I’m Owen. I’m very sorry that my knowledge of Laana is little better than your knowledge of English.”

“Come, come. Your Laana is extraordinarily good, for someone who’d never even heard of the language four weeks ago. Don’t be so modest! Faahiha has told me a great deal about your exploits, and the way you have mastered the language so quickly. I’m most interested to hear more about your ballooning. But you need food and drink, there is plenty of time for talk later.”

“I thought you must be Graamon when you first addressed me. I wish I’d been more confident. I’m certain now. You must have met Faahiha somewhere between here and Tambuk, and decided on the spot to turn round and come back here. I’m honoured if that was to meet me.”

“So you even know the names of the stations between here and Briggi already? How many times have you made the trip?”

“No, not really. They’re probably all familiar by now, but I don’t think I couldn’t list them in order. I remember Tambuk particularly because we were there when the earthquake struck. We spent an unscheduled night there, and I heard Faahiha’s story. This is the first time I’ve made the round trip. I’d ridden with Peyr from the Sirimi Road crossing to Laanoha before I’d learnt a word of Laana.”

“And Faahiha heard your story the same night, and knew that I’d be most interested. Then there I was at Belgaam, to hear all she knew. So here I am. But food and drink!”

“A drink maybe, but couldn’t we wait for Peyr to get home before we eat?”

“Of course, of course. I don’t suppose he’ll be long. Grim, there’s a flagon of Keroo in the corner by the table. A mug for everyone!”

I’d heard of Keroo, but I’d never tasted it before. I didn’t know the procedure, either, but nobody minded that I was watching everybody else for clues about what to do. At least this time I understood what people were saying – mostly! Graamon wished me a long life and a happy one, or words to that effect. Actually what he wished me was a large family, and living to see my great-grandchildren grow up, but it’s a standard formula, and the real meaning is simply a long life and a happy one. I think so, anyway! I thanked him, and wished the same for everyone present, which I thought, and still think, was the right thing to do.

Yaana laughed, and said that seeing her great grandchildren grow up might be a little something I could help her out with. I didn’t know where to put myself.

Aila knew. “Gran! You’re worse than Dad! And he’s twice as bad as a Dad should be!”

Yaana laughed again, and said, “Isn’t he just! And you love him to bits, don’t you, sweetheart?”

Aila looked deflated. “Yes, Gran, I do. You’re right.” She looked at me with a pleading look in her eyes. She wanted me to change the subject quickly, I was sure, but I didn’t know how.

Graamon knew how, and was aware of the need. “I don’t know how much the rest of you know about Owen’s story. Probably not very much. Faahiha says that as far as she knows, he’d not really told anyone his story until the night after the earthquake – I assume everyone felt the earthquake?”

Nods all round. Everyone was still holding their mugs up a little, not drinking, and I copied them.

“Well, Peyr and Owen and Faahiha all stayed at Tambuk that night. They didn’t want to run into any landslips, either by going too fast to see them in time, or in the dark if they slowed down. Very wise of them! And you all know Faahiha’s story, of course, and Owen heard all that. And Owen told his story, for the first time, I believe.

“I’ve come here to hear it directly from him myself, because it’s a very interesting story, and I think there’s a lot more to hear than what he’s already told Faahiha.

“Your Owen is an extraordinary young man. You’re very lucky to have him, and I hope that with his permission you’ll share a little of him with me.

“I’d also like to say that he’s also very lucky to have you. It’s not every family in Laanoha who would welcome a stranger into their midst the way you have. I shall reiterate his toast: large families and grown-up great-grandchildren in your lifetimes to all of you!”

He raised his mug high, then took a sip. The rest of us followed suit.

Keroo is a bit spicier and a bit tarter and a bit less sweet than skiir, maybe a different combination of fruit, or different proportions of each. It’s red, not brown. But it’s not really a lot different.

Like skiir, it’s non-alcoholic. I’d not met an alcoholic drink since I left England. I thought I might have smelt alcohol at the waterside inn where we’d had our evening meal in Briggi, but I wasn’t sure. It might have been the slightly disreputable atmosphere of the place that made me imagine it.

Peyr and Judd arrived just as we were sitting down.

“You might have told me we’d got a visitor, Yaani,” he said, but he clearly knew already. He didn’t seem surprised at all.

“And let Owen know before he got here? I knew Judd would tell you.”

Yaani and Grim were already starting to serve food at the table. This was no ordinary family meal such as I’d eaten many times in this room. It was much more like the food at Siroha when I first arrived. There were plates and cutlery that I’d never seen in the room before, too.

I didn’t know whether Yaani and maybe Yaana had prepared it, or whether Graamon had brought part or all of it from somewhere else. I couldn’t ask, obviously. I wanted to know whether Graamon always ate like that, or whether this was a very special occasion, but I couldn’t ask that, either. Maybe I’d be able to ask Yaana privately later.

Another thing was puzzling me rather. How had Yaana known so quickly that Aila and I had our eyes on each other? Was it really so immediately obvious to any observant person who knew us both? Or had the grapevine somehow got the news to her before we arrived? Or maybe she was just joking without any foreknowledge at all, in which case our reactions might have been a bit of a surprise for her.

Over the meal, there was a lot of small talk in pairs or small groups. I was between Judd and Grim, and Aila was just the other side of Grim. At one point she mentioned to Grim that she was learning to read and write, and that in England nearly all children, not just a few rich ones, went to school for about six years.

Grim turned to me, “Did you go to school, Owen? What did you learn? Did you learn to read and write, like our Aila?”

Well, it wasn’t me who’d raised the question, but I couldn’t avoid the subject any longer. “Yes, I can read and write English. But I can’t read and write Laana, it’s a complete mystery to me.” I could feel everyone looking at me. I looked at Peyr, to see how he was reacting, but I don’t think he’d even heard. He was deep in conversation with Graamon.

Judd had heard, though. “Would you like to learn to read Laana, Owen? I’m no expert, but I know the basics and can teach you as much as I know.”

“I’d love to – but one thing I want to avoid is hurting Peyr’s feelings. He can’t read, can he?”

“No, Peyr can’t read. But I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt his feelings a bit if you learnt. You’re like another son to him, he’d be proud of you. He’s proud of you already. And I know how proud he is that his daughter’s learning, he was telling me on the way here.”

Everyone was beginning to clear their plates. There had been second helpings on many plates, and thirds on a few, and the food hadn’t run out by any means, but people were definitely flagging. Graamon announced another toast, and Grim refilled everyone’s mugs – not all of them had yet been emptied from the first toast, but all were topped up.

“I’ll be brief this time, we’ve had all the proper formalities. This feast is in honour of our guest and friend, Owen from England. None of us had ever heard of England until Owen arrived, and none of us has any idea where it is. I know Judd had met a few English-speaking sailors before, but he didn’t know they came from a place called England. Having heard Owen’s story secondhand, I suspect but do not know that Owen also does not know where England is, or perhaps from his viewpoint, where Laanoha is. Am I right, Owen?”

“Yes, that’s quite true. I’m pretty certain that it’s a very long way – thousands of miles – but that’s about all I really know.”

I was beginning to get a little nervous about telling my story. It had been so easy with just Peyr, whom I knew quite well, and one other interested listener who kept interrupting with questions for me to answer.

“I’ve rambled on enough! To Owen’s long life and grown-up great-grandchildren in his lifetime!”

Mugs high in the air, not including mine; everyone took a sip, then looked at me expectantly. I knew I had to begin.

“I don’t have the gift of words like Graamon has, not even in my own language, much less in Laana, a language I’ve only been learning for four weeks.

“This meeting was a complete surprise to me. I’m honoured, of course, but I’ve never thought how to tell my story, where to begin, or anything. When I told Peyr and Faahiha, we were sitting at a table in the inn at Tambuk, with no particular plan to tell any stories, and it all just came tumbling out – mostly in response to questions. Please do ask questions, whatever you like. The easiest way for me to tell the story would be to answer questions.”

I took a sip of keroo, then realized I should have held the mug high for a moment first, as an invitation for people to ask questions. I held it high for a moment after taking my sip instead. Several people laughed in a friendly way.

There was a short silence, then Graamon spoke.

“Perhaps I should start the questions, then, although I do have the advantage over everyone except Peyr of having heard at least a version of the story already.

“Owen, why did you want to leave England?”

Now this was a question to which everyone but Graamon did already know the answer, but I felt that a more measured answer was required in the circumstances.

“England is ruled by a ruthless, authoritarian regime. In some ways, it’s quite similar to the regime in Laanoha – but it’s much more efficient. It’s very hard to avoid the authorities, or to do anything without their knowing exactly what you’re doing. If they don’t like it, they will very effectively thwart your activities, by whatever means they think will work.”

“That sounds a bit like Meyroha,” Yaana observed.

“Maybe, from what I’ve heard.”

I suspected that the authorities in Meyroha had rather less sophisticated technology available to them than the authorities in England had, which probably made their control less complete, but I didn’t say anything about that.

“The whole system exists purely for the benefit of an elite, and everyone else is treated very badly indeed. I was born into an elite family, but my parents believed in a fairer and more just society, and campaigned against the regime. They kept on campaigning, even after the authorities first told them to stop, then cut off most of their income and confiscated much of their property. Finally, they were murdered while I was away from home, studying at school. I was sixteen then.”

Aila interrupted, “You were still studying at sixteen?”

“I understand you’re still studying, Aila. How old are you, now?”

Yaana laughed out loud. “Owen, that is a question you’re not allowed to ask a lady, certainly not in public! I’ll answer for her. She’s a fair bit older than sixteen!”

“I’m not studying at school, though. I’m studying privately, just one of me with someone who wants to teach me.”

“Ah, okay. Schools for older people in England are a bit different from schools for children, and you gradually change from being taught by teachers, to studying more and more independently, and finally working to find out new things that nobody else could teach you because nobody knew until you find out. Then you become a teacher yourself, as well as a student.”

Graamon was nodding. “We have a place a bit like that in Meyroha, but it sounds as though it’s much better established in England. Do go on, anyway. What happened after your parents were murdered?”

“The headmaster knew my parents had been murdered, and he’s a good man. He arranged for my school fees to be waived, and for my accommodation and food to be provided by the school. He said I was a favourite student among the teachers, doing more unusual and interesting work than many of the other students. I think he was taking a bit of a risk himself doing that, but the authorities weren’t too bothered about it. They thought that getting rid of my parents was enough.

“I reached the stage where I was beginning to make the transition from student to teacher, doing a bit of each, and some independent research of my own. But I am a rebel like my parents, and as I grew older it became harder to hide the fact. I received a warning, but of course that just makes a rebel angrier.

“Luckily for me, the headmaster intervened, saying that I was a potentially valuable teacher to the school, and that the authorities should put a curb on my rebelliousness without interfering with my studies.

“Ruthless authoritarian regimes are not necessarily stupid. They listened to him. I don’t think they like him much, but they recognize his value. They placed me under house arrest, but allowed me to continue my research. But I felt stifled.”

“So you decided to escape. Very wise. But how could you escape, with armed guards all around the building?”

I was grateful for Graamon’s prompting. He already knew the answer to that question from Faahiha, I presumed, but he was right that I needed leading.

“It wasn’t just a building. I had a garden, too. I had some contact with other members of the school – but I had to give notice when I would be meeting with anyone, and there was always a guard present. Not just an average brainless guard, an intelligent guard who could generally make sense of what was going on, and who would often ask intelligent questions if he didn’t understand.

“Over the four months I was under house arrest, I got to know that guard quite well. I could sympathize with his position: he had a wife and two small children to support, and his income depended on him doing his job well. I really didn’t want to make life difficult for him. I hope the authorities didn’t think he helped me to escape. He certainly didn’t.

“My guard only monitored discussions between me and my colleagues, he didn’t take any notice of what I was doing in my house or garden, or my workshop, when there was no-one but me at home. So I could do pretty much whatever I liked.

“I hope they don’t think the headmaster helped me either. He didn’t. I don’t think there is anyone there who could have guessed I was about to escape, or who could work out afterwards where I’d gone.”

Judd interrupted, “It’s always hard to work out how anyone does magic. And it can only be magic, disappearing out of a place surrounded by armed guards, and re-appearing on a hillside so far away that no-one in either place knows where the other place is. A hillside miles from the coast or the border, and miles from anywhere else for that matter.”

I knew that Judd was being ironical. He was a thoroughly down-to-Earth, practical man. He knew I’d got a practical method of doing it, he just didn’t know what it was, and he wanted to know.

“There wasn’t much point tunnelling out. It would have been an incredible amount of work, very difficult or impossible to keep secret, and where would it have got me? Still in England, and easily caught. And if I was caught, what then? I’d be lucky if the worst that happened was to be returned to house arrest. I might very possibly be killed instead.

“So I had to think of another method. Well, you know those floating lanterns, where you put a candle in a thin paper lantern with a closed top, and it floats up into the sky? Well, I worked out a way that I could do a similar thing on a much bigger scale, big enough to lift me and carry me away like a candle in a paper balloon. England often gets very foggy nights in autumn, and I chose a foggy night to float up from my garden, so no-one would see me go.”

Graamon said that he wanted to know a lot more about exactly how I’d made a balloon capable of lifting a man, but that he was happy to hear about the details later. He was also very interested to know how confident I’d been that it was a safe thing to do.

“Oh, I wasn’t confident at all. I thought there was a very real risk that I would die in any one of several ways, or that I wouldn’t get far enough away, and that I’d be recaptured. Even if I got as far as some foreign country, the authorities in all the countries close to England have agreements with England about handing over people wanted by the authorities. I knew I had to get a very long way away. I thought my balloon could keep me in the air for several days, and I hoped that would be long enough to get a very long way. I was pretty sure that the wind got faster and faster the higher you went, so I wanted to float pretty high. It was certainly risky, and I thought long and hard about whether there was any other way out. I couldn’t think of any other. And I couldn’t face a life under permanent house arrest.”

I told the story of my flight much as I’d told it to Peyr and Faahiha at Tambuk. Once I got going, I lost my nervousness, and it just flowed.

Halfway through, Grim topped everyone’s keroo up, finishing the flagon.

Yaana was asleep long before I’d finished, but everyone else was still wide awake, even though it was long past midnight and most of us had been up early that morning.

“I really have to catch the first train back to Briggi tomorrow – well, today now – and I’ve got a few things to get ready first, so I’m going to have to get moving straight away. But I really want to hear all the details as soon as I can. Could you possibly come to Briggi with Peyr on his next trip, and stay with me at least until the trip after that? I think we have a great deal to talk about.”

I hadn’t mentioned my ballooning equipment at Siroha, and I didn’t really want to mention it in front of everyone, I wasn’t sure why. But Peyr saw an opportunity to perhaps find out about the people at Siroha.

“Before you disappear, Graamon, do you know the people at Siroha? That’s the place where Owen stayed the second night after he landed. They entertained him very well, but he only stayed the one night, and was unable to communicate much at all. A lady from there met the train this morning. They’re very keen for Owen to visit them again now he’s learnt a bit of Laana.”

“I can imagine they are. It’s not often they get unexpected visitors there, especially a foreigner who’s apparently somehow freshly arrived right in the middle of the country. Yes, I know them well. But they’re rich people, and you know what rich people are like. They’re not bad, as rural rich people go, but I wouldn’t really want to be one of their tenants or their employees.

“You’ll probably have to go and visit them eventually Owen, or they’ll cause trouble. We’ll have to work out some strategy to prevent them ensnaring you for a long stay, though.”

“I rather wondered whether that might be an issue, and I said that Owen had commitments in Laanoha and might not be with me on my next trip.”

“Well done Peyr, that was good thinking. I think the best ploy would be for him to hide while you pass the Sirimi road crossing. You’ve obviously got a pretty good hiding place somewhere on the train to have smuggled him in and out of Laanoha so neatly. Those commitments in Laanoha, whatever they are, can keep them off his back for a while yet.

“If you’ll excuse me, I really must go and prepare. I don’t want to miss the first train.”

“Well!” said Peyr, after Graamon had disappeared into the night. “I didn’t expect him to track you down quite as quickly as that! He seems as keen as I expected him to be, maybe even more so. You should definitely go to Briggi with me next time, and be ready to stay there for a while. You’ll be missed here, actually, you know, and not just because Yaana’s got a lot of work that she was hoping you’d help her with the cutting out for. But you can’t miss a chance like this.

“Talking of Yaana’s work, I’ve got an order for her, Judd. The Sirimi Road people. Well, they’re the Siroha people, as we just discovered this morning. I still don’t really know where Siroha is – somewhere between the crossing and Sirimi, that’s all I know. Owen will know better.”

“I think I could find it again, okay, yes, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever need to. If – seems like I mean when – I go there again, I guess they’ll pick me up from the crossing.”

“Or Graamon will take you there, I suspect. He’ll want to see your ballooning stuff, and maybe take it away. And he won’t want to let them hold on to you for too long, either. He’s one of the few people who can probably stop them.”

Peyr pulled out two little packets from his pocket and gave them to Yaana and Yaani. I remembered that I had a similar packet for Aila, and dug it out of my rucksack.

The three ladies admired their scarves, and put them on. Yaana fingered Aila’s scarf admiringly, “That’s a real beauty he’s got you, Aila. He’s got a good eye!” Aila’s eyes seemed to sparkle as she thanked me.

Then she pecked me lightly on the cheek, but somehow that seemed false, a little distant, and my mood fell like a stone.

Peyr handed Judd the note the lady had given him. If I’d observed the arrival of an order before, I’d have known that Judd could read. It didn’t matter, I knew now, I was going to learn, Peyr’s nose wasn’t going to be put out of joint a bit, and Graamon was interested in me even though he knew I couldn’t – yet – read Laana.

And Aila is learning to read and write too. She and I are both going to be here for three nights and two days, but then she’s going back to Baragi, and I’m going to Briggi. When will I see her again?

Hmm. Will we even still want to see each other again by then? Maybe the attraction will wear off, who knows? It doesn’t feel likely right now, but who knows?

What are the rules of this game in this country? Peyr and Yaana seem to have made up their minds already. What if Aila doesn’t agree? Or if I don’t?

After Graamon had gone, we all went to sleep pretty quickly. Judd, me and Grim nearer the door, then Peyr and Yaani, and finally Aila and Yaana nearer the fire.

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