No wonder the diggers had shown no surprise when he lit a fire. They must have their own method of striking sparks, though what they used fire for, he was unsure. And why would the diggers light fires and build such conspicuous mounds if they were so afraid of the Monks? Maybe the Monks did not come this far from the mountains. Maybe they only took captive those trespassing on the ground where the metal objects had been so carefully arranged. Perhaps the Monks resented other creatures coming close to them.
He stopped the wagon between two of the humps, for it was too big to bring into the central space, and unfastened the tow ropes. The settlement had been alerted by the diggers that had run ahead, and when they walked into the central space, dozens of the little creatures stood gazing at them. Every second more were emerging from doorways to stare and whisper.
‘They are asking what we are,’ Bily told Zluty softly. ‘The ones that brought us are telling them we serve Redwing and the Monster. They probably think that because we were pulling them along in the wagon. The gestures they are using when they speak of the Monster mean One-who-hears or Listener. They are using gestures for Redwing, too. They call her Lastling.’
‘What do they call us?’ Zluty asked, his head ringing with the strangeness of it all.
‘Something like those-who-are-not,’ said Bily.
‘Not what?’ Zluty asked.
Before Bily could respond, another digger emerged from the nearest hump.
From the sudden respectful hush, Zluty guessed it to be the clan leader. Rather fat as diggers went, it had a very grand manner. But its eyes were curious and clever as they darted from Zluty and Bily to the wagon. Finally, it offered a loud and solemn ‘Ra!’
The clan echoed the greeting softly and then the clan leader made a welcome speech. It spoke very clearly and slowly, and Zluty was able to follow most of it. Bily responded with gestures and some sounds Zluty recognised as a polite and rather flowery ‘thank you’, then a small digger plucked impatiently at the clan leader’s elbow and led him not to the Monster, as Zluty had expected, but to where Redwing sat still perched on the edge of the wagon.
The clan leader gazed at Redwing with delight and astonishment, then made a long speech to her. Zluty understood none of it, for the digger kept breaking into birdlike trills. But Redwing cocked her head intelligently this way and that, as if she understood, and when it was done, she sang a long descending note that made Bily gasp.
‘What did she say?’ Zluty asked, but Bily did not hear for the clan leader had suddenly thrown up its paws and cried out that her coming was a sign. Some of the diggers glanced at one another in confusion, but the clan leader simply bowed again, deeply, to Redwing, and allowed itself to be led around to the sleeping Monster. It lay asleep, occasionally writhing and hissing in pain.
The clan leader spoke a few words to Bily.
‘They can give us something that will numb its pain but it will take time to prepare. He says the salve must be brewed afresh each day. He also offers diggers to groom Redwing.’ Bily frowned. ‘He seems to feel the clan is guilty of something to do with her and he wants to make amends.’
‘You call the digger He?’ Zluty asked.
Bily flushed a little and said, ‘It . . . he asked it. He told me it is the way of the clan. He thinks it very strange that I call the Monster It. He said the diggers who brought us here first thought the Monster our prisoner, because we use that word.’ His tail coiled a little. ‘Do you suppose the Monster is offended by our not speaking of it as male?’
Zluty did not know what to think. The plains diggers had always been very strict about not calling them he and she, and so had the birds. He and Bily only referred to Redwing as she because she had asked it. Seeing Bily was really worried he said, ‘The Monster knows you care. It would know that was just our way.’
‘But it is not really our way, is it?’ Bily said. ‘It is the way of the birds and the plains diggers, which we accepted. Now I think we must live by the rules of the places we come to.’
Zluty opened his mouth to protest, and then closed it again, because perhaps Bily was right. They had left the plain behind and it was silly to try to drag the rules and ways of that lost place with them. ‘All right. So tell me again what the clan leader . . . he, said about Redwing and why you think the diggers feel guilty about her. And did I understand rightly that he called her a sign?’
‘He said she was a sign of change,’ Bily said. ‘And I told you the diggers called us those-who-are-not, but it is more like: those-who-do-not-belong-to-the-plan. Or those-who-are-not-included.’
‘The plan again!’ Zluty huffed. ‘Made by the mysterious Makers, who used to live with the Monster’s people, until they went away to live in the clouded mountains with the Monks. What exactly is the plan, I’d like to know?!’
Bily only shrugged rather apologetically, which made Zluty aware that he had been shouting.
Forcing himself to calm down, he asked, ‘Well, what do the diggers call themselves, then?’
‘Diggers,’ Bily said. ‘But the gestures they use mean those-who-failed.’
‘Failed what?’ Zluty said, beginning to feel dizzy.
‘The plan, I suppose,’ Bily said. ‘Everything seems to come back to that. One of the diggers said the Monks fix what diggers won’t fix.’
‘It sounds like a lot of nonsense to me,’ Zluty said.
‘They seem very serious about it,’ Bily said. ‘I will try to learn more when I am down in the burrows.’
Zluty stared at him. ‘How can you go into the burrows? And why ever would you want to?’
‘The clan leader invited me to see the making of the salve for the Monster. As for the tunnels, they must be bigger than the ones the plains diggers made or he would not have asked me to go into them,’ Bily said. Then he frowned and added, ‘He told me the potion will numb the Monster’s pain and that once the infection fades, they will heal its . . . his metal, then he will be able to get well.’
‘His metal?’ Zluty echoed, thinking he had misheard.
Bily shrugged. ‘Perhaps they think the Monster has metal in its paw.’
Zluty shook himself. ‘All right. You go with them and see what you can find out about this quick way across the mountains. I will get our bedding and the cooking things out.’
As soon as Bily vanished into one of the humps with his guide, Zluty got out their bedrolls and the cooking things, then he donned his pack, filled a water bulb to attach to his harness and took up his staff. Slipping from the settlement, he made his way back to the mountains.
He was determined that if they must wait for the Monster to heal, he may as well at least see the mysterious Monks. He could move faster without the wagon and be back before anyone even noticed he was gone. Bily always forgot the time when he was preparing healing potions or mixing dyes, and if he did finish before Zluty was back, he would just assume he was foraging. He ignored the little tug of guilt he felt at misleading Bily, but he would just worry terribly if he knew what Zluty intended to do.
He had been walking for about half an hour when he looked back at the digger humps. They were visible only as slight rises in the horizon, ruddy with the approach of dawn. But even as he turned West to continue, a movement caught his eye. He continued walking for a time and then turned very suddenly and swiftly. This time he saw two diggers dodge out of sight a moment too late behind a boulder. He waited sternly for them to catch up.
‘You are following me,’ he said. They hung their heads. ‘You must go back to your burrows. I will return soon.’
Neither of the diggers would look at him, but one shook its head. Her head, Zluty saw.
‘Were you told to follow me?’ he asked.
She nodded.
‘Clan Leader wanting watching over he-who-is-not,’ the male digger said. He had to repeat himself and use gestures before Zluty could understand clearly what he meant.
‘There is no need for anyone to watch over me,’ Zluty insisted, wondering what the
y thought they could do if some danger did arise. ‘I just want to see what the Monks look like.’
This caused the little pair such distress that Zluty had to explain he did not mean to get close enough for them to smell or hear him. ‘I will make sure they don’t see me,’ he promised.
This seemed to reassure them, but they would not go back without him. Zluty sighed and told himself it did not truly matter if they went with him, since he meant what he had said about staying well hidden.
The sun was rising by the time they reached the foot of the mountains and Zluty was careful to keep lumps and outcrops of rock between him and the field of metal objects. But there was no movement.
The she digger shook his arm, and chattered until he understood she was telling him they must find a better hiding place.
Unless he had changed his mind, the he digger added, hopefully.
Zluty ignored this and found a great boulder well back from where the metal objects were laid out, and large enough to conceal the three of them completely. It had a crack down the middle that would give him a good view without him having to lift his head and risk being seen. Nor was there a breath of wind to carry their scent to the Monks, if their noses were very keen. If they even had noses, he thought.
As the diggers reluctantly settled themselves beside him to wait, Zluty slipped his backpack from his shoulders and rummaged for the package of nuts and dried berries at the bottom. Setting the backpack aside, he laid out his neck kerchief and spread the nuts and berries out so the diggers could help themselves. They ate companionably, taking turns to drink from the water bulb. It was so cold their breath came out as little white puffs of mist.
All at once the diggers froze, ears twitching. Zluty could hear nothing, but he turned very quietly and pressed his eye to the crack in the boulder.
At first he saw nothing, then there was a movement part way along a misty fold running vertically down the stony face of the mountain. It was hard to see through the mist floating between their hiding place and the mountain, but whatever was descending moved with a gliding swiftness that reminded Zluty of the way the giant slug slipped along the bottom of the desert rift.
As the sun rose higher and the mist dispersed, Zluty could see that whatever was coming down the fold was grey-furred, with long arms and a snaky tail like the Monster’s. It was not sliding down the fold as he had first thought, but descending on a platform suspended from thick cables. When the platform reached the ground, an enormous beast emerged from the shadowy fold. It was dark-furred and powerfully built about the shoulders and arms. Its legs were thick and strong-looking, too, but they were bowed under the weight of the enormous metal object it carried on one shoulder. The Monk, for what else could it be, laid the object down next to the others with reverent care.
Zluty wondered if the metal objects were thick on the heights and the Monks were trying to clear them away just as he had shifted stones from the area around the cottage so that Bily could plant his garden. But if so, why not simply throw them down the mountainside?
Other Monks followed, until there were ten of them, each bearing a metal object. As far as he could tell, there were two platforms – one going up while the other came down. There must be at least another ten Monks atop the mountain to lower and raise them, he decided. Perhaps more. Most of the Monks had mottled grey fur, but a few were paler or darker and one had a coat that was so white it reminded him of Bily’s.
It was full daylight now, and Zluty knew he would be seen at once if he moved. Too late now to wish he had muddied his coat and hidden further back. He watched closely as each Monk set down their burden and then moved through the metal objects, examining this or that one and sometimes getting down to peer closely at one. It seemed to him they were looking for something, and it was clear they valued the useless things.
Perhaps it was like some of the birds that nested in the garden of the cottage and liked making treasure of tiny bits of metal that had broken off objects or shiny stones. These pieces served no real purpose save that they pleased the birds and might be used to attract a mate. It would explain why the Monks would attack any creature they found near their treasure, though not why they would make captives of them. Unless that was only what the diggers imagined would happen if the Monks caught them.
Again the she digger tugged at him and gestured urgently that they should go.
Zluty was unwilling to risk trying to explain aloud that he dared not move while the Monks were there. Yet Bily would be frantic if he did not return for hours and hours, and there was no telling how long the Monks would linger. He used gestures to ask if one of the diggers could carry a message back to Bily. Finally the she digger nodded and slipped away, keeping the boulder between her and the Monks. She had just vanished from Zluty’s sight when the remaining he digger pinched Zluty hard and began to gesture frantically towards the mountains.
Zluty put his eye to the crack and his heart gave a great leap of fright, for one of the Monks was coming straight towards them at a lumbering run. It could not possibly have seen them behind the boulder, but the Monk would spot his bright yellow fur the moment it drew level with their hiding place. He gestured the digger away urgently. It did not argue and Zluty did not watch it flee. He pressed himself around the bottom of the boulder, pushing his face against the stone.
The smell of the dry, cold earth made him want to sneeze, but Zluty lay absolutely still, praying the Monk would not notice him. The footsteps stopped abruptly and the Monk gave a grunt of triumph. Zluty froze, but hearing the Monk’s rasping breaths and grunts he realised it had not discovered him but was doing something very close by. He could not imagine what, until he heard the sound of cloth tearing. Then he realised what it was doing. It must have spotted his backpack! He had set it to one side of the boulder. The Monk would only have to move forward a little, and it would see him.
He heard the sound of something metallic falling to the ground and the Monk gave a growl of interest. Zluty thought of the metal egg he had found in the Northern Forest and he must have made some slight sound, for suddenly the Monk gave a snarling growl and great long claw-tipped fingers closed around his ankle. Zluty cried out in fright as he was hauled roughly from his hiding place and lifted into the air.
The Monk released his ankle and he fell to the ground, hitting his head with such force that he saw stars. He was still half-stunned when it grasped him around the middle and lifted him up to peer into his face. Its eyes were huge and dark, its breath hot and strange.
‘What this being?’ the Monk muttered. It shook him as if it wanted to hear his bones rattle.
‘I . . . I am Zluty,’ Zluty managed to gasp.
The Monk gave a hooting cry and swung around to lumber back to the other Monks. Zluty’s head spun as the enormous creatures passed him from hand to hand, sniffing and prodding him. Then the one that had captured him showed the metal egg to the white Monk. They seemed very excited by it. Zluty hitched a breath and gasped, ‘Please, I mean . . . no harm. . . ’
The white Monk ignored him, nodding to the grey Monk dangling him upside-down by one foot. ‘Take unplanned strangeness to Machine,’ it grunted.
‘Please . . . listen,’ Zluty gasped.
The Monks ignored him so completely it was as if they could not hear him, yet he heard and understood them. Somehow this frightened him more than the rough carelessness of their hands. He might have been no more than a stone to these great terrifying creatures with their long hairy arms. The Monk holding him passed him to a smaller dark-grey Monk, repeating the words of the white Monk. The dark-grey Monk grasped Zluty by the middle and set off at a rocking lope towards the platform. Zluty’s head banged against its leg at every step and the Monk was holding him so tightly he could hardly breathe. He struggled feebly in the hope of making it loosen its fingers, but it only tightened its grip.
Zluty’s last thought before he blacked out was of Bily.
Bily followed his guide back through the tunnels, clasping t
he beautifully coloured pot of numbing slave he had been given and marvelling at all he had seen. He had been fond of the plains diggers near the cottage, but they had only ever wanted to talk of food or fluffs and other simple matters. They had made bowls and cups from a light, transparent material they created, but they did not decorate them. He had not seen the inside of their burrows and tunnels but he felt sure they had been as simple and functional as the cups. Certainly they made no medicines other than a poultice of mud and spit for drawing out thorns. Nor had they used fire or made songs.
It was hard to think of the diggers here as the same kind of creature. It was true they did not cook their food, but they used fire for warmth and light and to soften and change the shape of golden bits of metal they scavenged from broken objects. And, incredibly, they got fire from a small metal object that spat out flame!
It stood on an earthen dais inside one of the huts and, seeing Bily’s curious glance as they entered, his guide had stopped to work a lever on the side of it. Bily had cried out in astonishment to see a little tongue of flame shoot out from it!
He had been even more astonished when the digger had brought out a long thin device and used the flame maker to set its tip alight. Immediately it had begun to flare and hiss and give out dramatic sparks of cold, blinding brightness.
There had also been a fire in a large pit beside the flame-making object, which the digger explained was kept constantly alight in the winter. He had been shown rows of little lantern-like metal containers that could be filled with embers to be carried here and there throughout the burrow system, and flat pockets of moss into which embers could be placed. These would smoulder gently for a long time, giving off a sweet-scented smoke and a soft orange glow of warmth. His guide also explained that when the fire in the pit became very hot, small bits of metal scavenged from the broken metal objects could be lowered into it until they grew red and soft and then they would be withdrawn and beaten into whatever shape was wanted. His guide had shown him a tiny dagger made in this way. The blade had been wickedly sharp and the sheen of it had reminded him of the white moon’s reflection in water. It was a lovely, deadly thing that gave Bily a shiver.