to lead us in.’
They rolled on confidently to the outskirts of the city, their band marching in front of them playing the Fantasia’s triumphant music. Ozul and Maska rode not far behind them, like careful wolves following a herd, hoping for the chance to scavenge some slow prey from the herd edges. The Fantasia clustered at the main gate, van after van, with riders spreading out around them. A whole tribe of officials came hurrying towards them. Swerving sideways as they approached the towngates, Ozul and Maska hesitated, then, nodding to each other, chose what looked to them like the shortest queue. Almost immediately other straggling people closed in behind them.
Columns of smoke were rising from behind the city walls and a great mixture of smells, swelling up and out in an invisible cloud, came softly over them to sink around the waiting people. Garland sniffed sawdust, hot metal and, above anything else, food. Boomer, drum and all, came prancing down from the head of the Fantasia queue.
‘Here we are! Here we are!’ he was shouting.
‘How long will we have to wait?’ asked Eden a little wearily. It was his turn to put on the baby sling and carry Jewel but she kept slipping from side to side, grizzling and complaining. Now he hoisted her straight again, and patted her back just to let her know she was being looked after.
‘I’ll take her,’ offered Timon, but Eden knew that things had to be fair.
‘No, it’s my turn,’ he said. ‘She’s probably a bit hungry.’
‘It’s awful waiting,’ piped Lilith, ‘but I’ll entertain her.’
Garland groaned aloud, but Lilith took no notice of Garland . She began to dance and sing, kicking her legs, beaming at Jewel and holding her skirts out on either side.
‘There’s a rainbow round the corner
With room for you and me …’
Her voice wavered and she lost the tune for a moment (Garland often imagined Lilith as being tangled up in lost lines of dying songs). Her kicking sank down into a shuffle. But then she remembered the tune and the words once more.
‘Where all my cares are bluebirds
That fly across the sea …’
A young man suddenly burst out of nowhere and began running alongside the queue, shouting as he ran.
‘No more oil slaves! No more oil slaves!’
He shoved Lilith roughly to one side as he ran by, but already Gramth officers were closing in on him, flourishing the long metal poles they called their rods of office. One of the officers reached out, touching the young man’s shoulder with the rod. ‘No more …’ he was crying yet again. But there was a curious sound … half-zing, half-crackle. The man’s words melted into one another, becoming a scream, while his running turned into a shapeless leap. He stumbled; he fell. Officials closed around him.
‘Hey! Awesome!’ said Boomer in a quavering voice.
‘Think so?’ said Timon. He watched two officers hoist the young man onto their shoulders and carry him away, then looked anxiously to the head of the queue. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said as he watched officials in grey uniforms studying the papers Yves and Maddie were passing towards them.
‘No. It’s always like this,’ said Garland, then thought that perhaps it
was
different this time, because it was Yves, not Ferdy, wheeling and dealing at Maddie’s side.
But Maddie was turning and gesturing back along the Fantasia line in her commanding way. Boomer shot off, drum and all, anxious to be part of the band again, and the Fantasia leaped to life. The grey officials passed the papers back to Yves, Garland noticed with annoyance. Then chief guard waved and the great gates opened. To the sound of its own music, the Fantasia marched though down the main street of Gramth making for the big square in the middle of town.
Looking around as they drove through the main gate, Garland suddenly glimpsed Ozul and Maska caught up in the next queue along, trapped by the people in front of them and the people behind.
Surely Ozul
They rolled on confidently to the outskirts of the city, their band marching in front of them playing the Fantasia’s triumphant music. Ozul and Maska rode not far behind them, like careful wolves following a herd, hoping for the chance to scavenge some slow prey from the herd edges. The Fantasia clustered at the main gate, van after van, with riders spreading out around them. A whole tribe of officials came hurrying towards them. Swerving sideways as they approached the towngates, Ozul and Maska hesitated, then, nodding to each other, chose what looked to them like the shortest queue. Almost immediately other straggling people closed in behind them.
Columns of smoke were rising from behind the city walls and a great mixture of smells, swelling up and out in an invisible cloud, came softly over them to sink around the waiting people. Garland sniffed sawdust, hot metal and, above anything else, food. Boomer, drum and all, came prancing down from the head of the Fantasia queue.
‘Here we are! Here we are!’ he was shouting.
‘How long will we have to wait?’ asked Eden a little wearily. It was his turn to put on the baby sling and carry Jewel but she kept slipping from side to side, grizzling and complaining. Now he hoisted her straight again, and patted her back just to let her know she was being looked after.
‘I’ll take her,’ offered Timon, but Eden knew that things had to be fair.
‘No, it’s my turn,’ he said. ‘She’s probably a bit hungry.’
‘It’s awful waiting,’ piped Lilith, ‘but I’ll entertain her.’
Garland groaned aloud, but Lilith took no notice of Garland . She began to dance and sing, kicking her legs, beaming at Jewel and holding her skirts out on either side.
‘There’s a rainbow round the corner
With room for you and me …’
Her voice wavered and she lost the tune for a moment (Garland often imagined Lilith as being tangled up in lost lines of dying songs). Her kicking sank down into a shuffle. But then she remembered the tune and the words once more.
‘Where all my cares are bluebirds
That fly across the sea …’
A young man suddenly burst out of nowhere and began running alongside the queue, shouting as he ran.
‘No more oil slaves! No more oil slaves!’
He shoved Lilith roughly to one side as he ran by, but already Gramth officers were closing in on him, flourishing the long metal poles they called their rods of office. One of the officers reached out, touching the young man’s shoulder with the rod. ‘No more …’ he was crying yet again. But there was a curious sound … half-zing, half-crackle. The man’s words melted into one another, becoming a scream, while his running turned into a shapeless leap. He stumbled; he fell. Officials closed around him.
‘Hey! Awesome!’ said Boomer in a quavering voice.
‘Think so?’ said Timon. He watched two officers hoist the young man onto their shoulders and carry him away, then looked anxiously to the head of the queue. ‘Something’s wrong,’ he said as he watched officials in grey uniforms studying the papers Yves and Maddie were passing towards them.
‘No. It’s always like this,’ said Garland, then thought that perhaps it
was
different this time, because it was Yves, not Ferdy, wheeling and dealing at Maddie’s side.
But Maddie was turning and gesturing back along the Fantasia line in her commanding way. Boomer shot off, drum and all, anxious to be part of the band again, and the Fantasia leaped to life. The grey officials passed the papers back to Yves, Garland noticed with annoyance. Then chief guard waved and the great gates opened. To the sound of its own music, the Fantasia marched though down the main street of Gramth making for the big square in the middle of town.
Looking around as they drove through the main gate, Garland suddenly glimpsed Ozul and Maska caught up in the next queue along, trapped by the people in front of them and the people behind.
Surely Ozul
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