Helix and the Arrival by Damean Posner Page A

uncomfortably as though he’s sitting on anarrowhead, then says, ‘Ug. Tell Helix why his question is that of a fool.’
    Ug has to think for a moment, but then it comes to him. ‘It is written on the sacred tablets that crops from the lowlands are unclean as they grow in the same mud that the river people were formed in.’
    Speel gestures with both hands towards Ug. ‘Helix, you would do well to keep up with your Learnings like Ug here.’
    Anger swells in my belly, like a river bursting its banks. I want to tell him that I refuse to be told that something is true just because an ancient tablet says it is. The problem, though, is that my instincts are all I have to protest with. If only I had travelled the world, like my great-grandfather Herb (who no one believes, I’ll admit), then I’d be able to stand up and speak the truth.
    â€˜And what of their roundhouses,’ says Speel now. ‘Why is it that river people live in roundhouses?’
    I jump in before Ug gets a chance. ‘Why not?’ I say. ‘They’re well-built and look to be comfortable enough for a large family.’ This I know from my own eyes.
    Speel looks to Ug. ‘I think your friend’s imagination is getting the better of him. Ug, can you answer, please?’
    â€˜They live in roundhouses because caves were intended for mountain folk.’
    â€˜And what of these roundhouses?’ prompts Speel.
    â€˜They are made of the mud that the river people themselves grew out of. They are poor, sad imitations of our glorious caves on the mountain,’ says Ug.
    I put my hand up to speak. ‘Can I just say, I’ve seen their roundhouses and they are sturdy, big and clean-looking. There’s nothing wrong with them.’
    â€˜Of course they appear to be fine,’ laughs Speel. ‘They are designed to fool our eyes from up on the mountain. But up close they are a sad spectacle, worthy only of those who dwell aimlessly in the lowlands.’
    â€˜No. We’ve seen them up close from the grasslands in front of the river. Tell him, Ug.’
    Ug is being pulled in two directions. He hesitates. His eyes shift towards me and then back to Speel. In the end he makes his choice.
    â€˜I do not know what he means,’ says Ug to Speel.
    â€˜Helix, you’d be wise not to make assertions about things of which you know nothing. I am the Storykeeper and these tablets,’ he says, gesturing behind him, ‘form the truth of our people.’
    It’s hopeless.
    I nod.
    Not only is the Storykeeper against me, but so is my best friend.

I walk back into my family’s cave to find a celebration taking place. Dad has brought out a piece of dried hard-shell that he was saving for the summer solstice. He’s cutting it up into bite-size chunks. There’s just enough to go around between the four of us.
    Mum has her arm around Sherwin and is smiling from ear to ear.
    Sherwin is the happiest of all. His chest is puffed out and his fists are clenched, as if he’s just speared a bison and brought it back to Rockfall on his own.
    â€˜What’s going on?’ I say.
    â€˜Helix!’ says Dad. ‘Sherwin’s getting married!’
    â€˜What?’ Who would marry Sherwin?
    Dad goes on. ‘Korg has told us that a marriage has been arranged. The girl will be informed shortly, but the family has already agreed.’
    â€˜Korg says she’s from a good family and has a strong temperament,’ says Sherwin.
    â€˜I knew my boy would find a wife!’ squeals Mum.

    â€˜Technically, he didn’t find a wife,’ I point out. ‘A wife has been found for him – it’s not quite the same.’
    â€˜Helix!’ says Mum.
    This poor girl , is all I can think. I wonder if she knows she’s marrying one of the oldest bachelors in Rockfall .
    â€˜Congratulations, Sherwin,’ I say, because I have to say something. ‘When’s the