William Nicholson - The Wind Singer

‘Pocksicker pocksicker pompaprune!

Banga-banga-banga plop!

Sagahog sagahog pompaprune!

Udderbug pongo plop!’

Maslo Inch gazed up at her for a few moments, as if to familiarise himself with her face. He said nothing more. The girl had mocked and insulted everything that Aramanth most respected. She would be punished, of course; but the case called for more than punishment. She must be broken. Maslo Inch was not a man to shrink from hard decisions. Young as she was, it must be done, and it must be done once and for all. He gave a single brisk nod of his head, and turned and strode calmly away.

4

Practising for Maroon

By the time Bowman returned with his father, the arena was empty and the wind singer was silent. The marshals guarding the perimeter refused to let them enter. Hanno Hath told them he was the wild child’s father, and had come to take her home. The marshals sent for their captain, and their captain sent for instructions to the College of Examiners. Back came a simple order.

‘Send her home. She’ll be dealt with later.’

As father and son made their way down the arena steps, Bowman asked in a low voice,

‘What will they do to her?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Hanno.

‘They said we’d lose points from our family rating.’

‘Yes, I expect they’ll do that.’

‘She said pompaprune to the Emperor. She said the Emperor doesn’t exist.’

‘Did she now?’ said her father, smiling to himself.

‘Does the Emperor exist, pa?’

‘Who knows? I’ve never seen him, and I’ve never met anyone else who’s seen him. Perhaps he’s just one of those useful ideas.’

‘Will you be cross with Kess?’

‘No, of course not. But it would have been better if she hadn’t done it.’

They reached the wind singer, and Hanno Hath called up to the top, where they could see Kestrel curled up among the leather scoops.

‘Kestrel! Come down now, darling.’

Kestrel looked over the edge, and saw her father below.

‘Are you angry with me?’ she said in a small voice.

‘No,’ he replied gently. ‘I love you.’

So Kestrel climbed down, and as she reached the ground her courage suddenly forsook her, and she started to tremble and cry. Hanno Hath took her in his arms, and sat down on the bottom step of the arena, and held her close. He hugged her, and let her sob out all her tears of anger and humiliation.

‘I know, I know,’ he said over and over again.

Bowman sat beside them, waiting for his sister to calm down, and shivered, and wanted to cuddle close to his father too. He moved nearer, and leaned his head against a wool-rough arm. Pa can’t help us, he thought. He wants to, but he can’t. It was the first time he had ever thought this thought, clear and simple like that. He said it to Kestrel in his head.

Pa can’t help us .

Kestrel thought back, I know. But he does love us .

Then they both felt it at the same time, how much they loved their father, and they both started kissing him at once, all over his ears and eyes and scratchy cheeks.

‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘That’s my bright birds.’

They walked home quietly, the three of them arm in arm, and nobody troubled them. Ira Hath was waiting for them, with Pinpin in her arms, and they told her briefly what had happened.

‘Oh, I wish I’d heard you!’ she exclaimed.

Neither of Kestrel’s parents blamed her, or said she’d done wrong. But they all knew there would be a price to pay.

‘It’ll be bad for us, won’t it?’ said Kestrel, watching her father’s eyes as she spoke.

‘Well, yes, I expect they’ll want to make an example of us somehow,’ said Hanno, sighing.

‘Will we have to go to Maroon District?’

‘Yes, I think so. Unless I astonish the world with my brilliance at the next High Examination.’

‘You are brilliant, pa.’

‘Thank you, darling. Unfortunately whatever brilliance I have remains undetected in exams.’

He pulled a funny face. They all knew how he hated exams.

There was no visit from the marshals that evening, so they had supper together, and Pinpin was given her bath, just as if nothing had happened. Then before Pinpin’s bedtime, as the setting sun turned the sky a soft dusty pink, they made their family wish huddle, as they always did. Hanno Hath knelt down on the floor and reached up his arms. Bowman nestled under one, and Kestrel under the other. Pinpin stood with her face pressed to his chest, and her short arms round his body. Ira Hath knelt behind Pinpin, and wrapped her arms over Bowman on one side and Kestrel on the other, making a tight ring. Then they all leaned their heads inwards until they were touching, and took turns to say their night wish. Often they wished for comical things, especially their mother, who had once wished five nights running for the Blesh family to get ulcerated boils. But tonight the mood was serious.

‘I wish there were no more exams ever,’ said Kestrel.

‘I wish nothing bad happens to Kess,’ said Bowman.

‘I wish my darling children to be safe and happy for ever,’ said their mother. She always wished like that when she was worried.

‘I wish the wind singer would sing again,’ said their father.

Bowman nudged Pinpin, and she said, ‘Wish wish.’ Then they all kissed each other, bumping noses like they always did, because there wasn’t an agreed order. Then Pinpin was put to bed.

‘Do you think it’ll ever happen, pa?’ said Bowman. ‘Will the wind singer ever sing again?’

‘It’s only an old story,’ said Hanno Hath. ‘Nobody believes it any more.’

‘I do,’ said Kestrel.

‘You can’t,’ objected her brother. ‘You don’t know any more about it than anyone else.’

‘I believe it because nobody else believes it,’ she retorted.

Her father smiled at that.

‘That’s more or less how I feel,’ he said.

He had told them the old story many times before, but Kestrel wanted to hear it again. So to calm her down, he told them once more about the time long ago when the wind singer sang. Its song was so sweet that everyone who heard it was happy. The happiness of the people of Aramanth angered the spirit-lord called the Morah –

‘But the Morah’s not real,’ put in Bowman.

‘No, nobody believes in the Morah any more,’ said his father.

‘I do,’ said Kestrel.

The Morah was angry, went the old story, and sent a terrible army, the army of the Zars, to destroy Aramanth. Then the people were afraid, and took the voice out of the wind singer, and gave it to the Morah. The Morah accepted the offering, and the Zars turned back without destroying Aramanth, and the wind singer never sang again.

Kestrel became very excited as she heard this.

‘It’s true!’ she cried. ‘There’s a place in the wind singer’s neck for the voice to go. I’ve seen it!’

‘Yes,’ said Hanno. ‘So have I.’

‘So the story must be true.’

‘Who knows?’ said Hanno quietly. ‘Who knows?’

Kestrel’s words reminded them all of her defiance that afternoon, and they fell silent.

‘Maybe they’ll just forget about it,’ said Ira Hath hopefully.

‘No,’ said Hanno. ‘They won’t forget.’

‘We’ll have to go down to Maroon District,’ said Bowman. ‘I don’t see what’s so bad about that.’

‘The apartments are quite small. We’d all have to sleep together in the one room.’

‘I’d like that,’ said Bowman. ‘I’ve always wanted us to sleep in one room.’

Kestrel thanked him with her eyes, and his mother kissed him and said, ‘You’re a dear boy. But your father snores, you know.’

‘Do I?’ said Hanno, surprised.