“So you’re late,” the man said. “But now you’re doubly in trouble, because you don’t belong here.”
“Throw us off,” Elata said.
“I should,” he agreed.
Terrified, Seldom backed away.
Again, the beast inside the box gave Diamond a good hard sniff. Then a sour deep voice said, “Odd, odd, odd.”
Diamond stepped back.
The nose followed him. And again, the creature’s voice said, “Odd.”
The attendant looked at the three of them, ending up with Diamond. A polished club was fixed to a heavy belt, and he pulled the club free, passing it from one hand to the other and back again. Seldom moaned, and Elata put her feet apart, ready to move. But then the man knelt and struck the box hard three times, shouting, “What’s odd, growler?”
“Smell is.”
“Whose smell?”
The nose looked halfway human, sniffing Diamond again, sniffing hard.
“That boy?” asked the man.
“No boy,” the growler responded. Then it put its nose under Seldom, sniffed and said, “Nothing like this boy. Nothing this nose ever smelled ever.”
The attendant rose, studying Diamond’s face.
“What’s a growler?” Diamond asked no one in particular.
“They do work,” Elata explained. “They’re big and strong, and smart enough to follow orders, if their trained right and willing.”
“I am willing,” said the beast in the box. “I am a heroic worker.”
Except for the big nose, Diamond couldn’t see what was under his feet. Putting both arms around his chest, he gazed out into the air, at a tree even larger than Marduk that was laced with tunnels and houses and covered with big walkways, and maybe twenty blimps were tied to structures that reached out like arms, and beneath every walkway were other structures where still more people lived.
Not even at his dreamiest best had Diamond imagined so many people alive in the world.
The attendant approached, holding his club with both hands.
“What’s wrong with you, son?”
There was that word again. “Son.” Diamond took a deep breath and looked down at his silly feet, and then he looked up and frowned. “I’m sick,” he said. “I’m dying.”
He didn’t believe that story anymore, but he could offer the words with convincing despair.
The man said, “Oh,” and dropped his gaze.
Nobody spoke for a while.
Then Seldom said, “We’re close.”
A smaller walkway was directly above. Elata took Diamond’s hand again and tugged, smiling at him until he smiled back. She didn’t tell him that they would jump, but he knew what her face was saying. Then she turned forward, and he kept watching her profile—the smile swirling inside fatigue and fear and undiluted stubbornness. Real faces weren’t paint on wooden soldiers or wooden statues. A human face was much more complicated, and if you stared at any face, it showed you more and more that you hadn’t noticed before.
Wood sawed from other trees had been carried to this important place and pinned together to form rooms and hallways, windows and doors, and the entire building was painted a brilliant shade of blue that Diamond had never seen before. Like a giant hand, the school had grabbed hold of Marduk. Every room was lit by daylight. Students dropped to school on ropes and ladders, and they climbed up to it, and strung-out groups scampered along parallel walkways. There was endless motion, yet nobody seemed to hurry. Every day in the world began when it began, and every day lasted as long as it would last. Time was fluid. Starts and endings were never clearly defined. This was morning and not necessarily late in the morning, and it felt like the right time to begin school, and school would last to that vague, still distant point in the afternoon when minds grew too tired to function—student minds as well as those of the teachers.
Someone said, “Seldom.”
The boy nodded vaguely, pushing on.
A girl approached, asking Elata, “Where’s your uniform?”
“Laundry,” she blurted, her excuse at the ready. “My mom forgot again.”
“Who are you?” The girl was short and stocky, and she liked to touch what didn’t make sense. She put both hands on Diamond’s arms, saying, “I don’t know you. Where are you from?”
“My old tree,” Elata said.
The boys looked at her, surprised.
“He’s visiting,” she explained. “His family’s thinking of moving to Marduk.”
“The world’s best tree,” said the girl. And she ran off.
The three of them continued to walk. Then Seldom said, “I know better, but I almost believed you.”
“Lying is my gift,” she said, smiling.
The first few doors were avoided. Planks and a minimal railing created a rising staircase that nobody else used. Elata climbed and paused, waiting for Diamond. “This man we want to see,” she began.
“Master Nissim,” he remembered.
“There’s a story about him,” she said.
Seldom acted self-conscious and nervous, and that was why the teacher noticed him. Standing at the bottom of the stairs, she shouted, “What are you doing there, Seldom?”
He stopped, hands wrestling in front of him.
“Come down here,” she demanded.
“We have an appointment,” Elata called out.
The teacher hadn’t noticed Elata or Diamond. “An appointment?” she asked skeptically.
“This boy is transferring to school.”
“And where are his parents?”
“We’re looking for them.” Elata nodded with authority. “Have you seen two new adults, Master?”
The woman considered and said, “No, I don’t think so.”
“We’ll keep looking, Master. Thank you.”
Elata broke into a crisp run and the boys followed, reaching the next walkway and turning into the first doorway. A tunnel led inside the tree, and suddenly the world became wonderfully quiet.
“What is the story?” Diamond asked.
Elata paused. “What story?”
“About Master Nissim,” he said.
“Oh, he isn’t a teacher anymore.” She showed him a wink and smile. “He used to be. I guess. But something happened long ago, something very bad, and you can never ask about that. Is that understood?”
He thought, No.
But he nodded and said nothing more.
Power saws and pneumatic chisels had carved an enormous room, apparently for no purpose but to be filled up with ash-stained vents and giant grills, cupboards taller than any person and ovens large enough to cook meals for hundreds of growing bodies. Smoke hung in the close damp air. Yesterday’s garbage needed to be thrown out. Jammed into the aisles were block-like tables where food was prepared, each table holding a long rack filled with wooden spoons and huge pots scorched by hard use. Men and women wore uniforms that might have started the day white. Every apron was filthy with plant juices and blood. Everybody was talking, and as the three of them stepped into the kitchen, one woman in back shouted a few words that Diamond didn’t recognize—funny words, judging by the laughter rolling toward them—and then another woman yelled the warning that everybody feared most. “Children,” she called out.
The laughter didn’t die immediately, and several adults repeated the new words. But then the place turned quiet enough that Diamond heard the ticking of ovens and a cauldron of water boiling with enthusiasm.
A different woman stepped forward. “Not now, he’s busy,” she told Seldom.
Seldom hesitated.
“Besides,” the woman continued. “It’s class time and you two aren’t dressed.”
Elata smiled pleasantly while nodding, as if ready to apologize and leave again. But then she told everybody, “This is Diamond. He’s starting school today, and according to tests, he’s even smarter than Seldom.”
Seldom bristled with that news but kept quiet.