with the clay pots Lillah's Order specialised in, to hold the perfume. In the next Order, where they made jasmine oil, the pots were well respected too.
The night before they left, the Order gathered for a party. The celebration turned rowdy. Raucous laughter, shocking stories. Lillah felt light-headed. Queasy. She walked away from the group to give herself some space.
"Who's there? Who is it?" she heard.
"It's me, Tilla. It's Lillah. Your rhyming friend."
The Bark of the Tree was very dark, mottled in places. Sometimes Bark shed like dried flakes of skin from the scalp. Tilla's face, old and lined, reminded her of the bark.
"Good. Come and tell me what's going on."
Lillah had not forgotten how poorly he had treated her in the Tree Hall, but she walked towards his voice, squinting in the moonlight. She found him sitting on a jutting rock, his fat walking stick resting beside him, his old legs dangling down.
"However did you get up there, Tilla? You can't manage to fish or wash, but you can climb onto a giant rock."
Tilla snickered. The sound gave Lillah the giggles. Most people laughed loudly, mouths wide open. "I am the watcher, looking out for secrets. I climb where I can. What's going on over there?"
"Why don't you come and see?"
"Hah! Expect me to talk to those fools?"
"You'll have to talk to somebody some time."
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
"Yes, but Tilla, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going away with the school."
Tilla choked and Lillah stepped closer, thinking he had swallowed a night bug.
"Tilla? Are you all right?"
He was crying. Tears trickled down his old face and he didn't wipe them away.
"Why do they send our best to die?"
"I won't die. I'll find my partner. I'll send news back with the school."
"They won't be back. They never come back. Haven't you noticed? They go away to die." Lillah realised that was why he had been so hard on her earlier, in her teacher interview.
"Oh, my Tree Lord, Tilla," she said. "You went yourself. Don't you remember?"
"I remember a strange dream a long time ago, that's all."
He gazed out to sea. "The shore gets smaller every year. I can see it. Every year the Trunk gets thicker and thicker. It won't be long before the beach is gone altogether. The pot my ancestor buried for my inheritance is covered, now, by the Tree. I'll never get to it."
He looked up the Tree. "There's stories up there long forgotten. Lost. No lesson learnt."
"You still remember a lot of it. And the younger men are learning it. Some of our people tried living in the Tree, you know. Many years ago. But it went wrong, very wrong. They could not put their babies down, you know. Not even to sleep. This is not the way a person should be. A person needs to sleep alone at times."
He scrabbled in his pocket. "Here," he said. "Tell them to bury this with you. At least they'll know where you came from."
He handed her a flat rock. She could feel that it was etched but couldn't see the design.
"Look at it tomorrow," he said. "Go now, I'm tired."
"Will you tell me just one story? One I can share with the children on a lonely night between Orders?"
"I'm tired." But he smiled at her; he loved to tell stories. "I'll tell you about a time when the canopy was not so vast. When we could stand at the water's edge and receive sun all the time, not just when there has been Leaffall. Every year we lose more sunlight as the Tree grows and casts more shadow."
"Tell me the story."
"This is the story of your uncle. Your father's brother. We were dear friends."
"He doesn't talk about his brother."
"He misses him too greatly."
"I know that he floated out to sea on a large piece of Bark he found shed from the Tree. I never knew him; he sailed before I was born. He said he was seeking the other side of the world, but he never returned. The Order believed he'd been taken by the sea monster. I
The night before they left, the Order gathered for a party. The celebration turned rowdy. Raucous laughter, shocking stories. Lillah felt light-headed. Queasy. She walked away from the group to give herself some space.
"Who's there? Who is it?" she heard.
"It's me, Tilla. It's Lillah. Your rhyming friend."
The Bark of the Tree was very dark, mottled in places. Sometimes Bark shed like dried flakes of skin from the scalp. Tilla's face, old and lined, reminded her of the bark.
"Good. Come and tell me what's going on."
Lillah had not forgotten how poorly he had treated her in the Tree Hall, but she walked towards his voice, squinting in the moonlight. She found him sitting on a jutting rock, his fat walking stick resting beside him, his old legs dangling down.
"However did you get up there, Tilla? You can't manage to fish or wash, but you can climb onto a giant rock."
Tilla snickered. The sound gave Lillah the giggles. Most people laughed loudly, mouths wide open. "I am the watcher, looking out for secrets. I climb where I can. What's going on over there?"
"Why don't you come and see?"
"Hah! Expect me to talk to those fools?"
"You'll have to talk to somebody some time."
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
"Yes, but Tilla, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going away with the school."
Tilla choked and Lillah stepped closer, thinking he had swallowed a night bug.
"Tilla? Are you all right?"
He was crying. Tears trickled down his old face and he didn't wipe them away.
"Why do they send our best to die?"
"I won't die. I'll find my partner. I'll send news back with the school."
"They won't be back. They never come back. Haven't you noticed? They go away to die." Lillah realised that was why he had been so hard on her earlier, in her teacher interview.
"Oh, my Tree Lord, Tilla," she said. "You went yourself. Don't you remember?"
"I remember a strange dream a long time ago, that's all."
He gazed out to sea. "The shore gets smaller every year. I can see it. Every year the Trunk gets thicker and thicker. It won't be long before the beach is gone altogether. The pot my ancestor buried for my inheritance is covered, now, by the Tree. I'll never get to it."
He looked up the Tree. "There's stories up there long forgotten. Lost. No lesson learnt."
"You still remember a lot of it. And the younger men are learning it. Some of our people tried living in the Tree, you know. Many years ago. But it went wrong, very wrong. They could not put their babies down, you know. Not even to sleep. This is not the way a person should be. A person needs to sleep alone at times."
He scrabbled in his pocket. "Here," he said. "Tell them to bury this with you. At least they'll know where you came from."
He handed her a flat rock. She could feel that it was etched but couldn't see the design.
"Look at it tomorrow," he said. "Go now, I'm tired."
"Will you tell me just one story? One I can share with the children on a lonely night between Orders?"
"I'm tired." But he smiled at her; he loved to tell stories. "I'll tell you about a time when the canopy was not so vast. When we could stand at the water's edge and receive sun all the time, not just when there has been Leaffall. Every year we lose more sunlight as the Tree grows and casts more shadow."
"Tell me the story."
"This is the story of your uncle. Your father's brother. We were dear friends."
"He doesn't talk about his brother."
"He misses him too greatly."
"I know that he floated out to sea on a large piece of Bark he found shed from the Tree. I never knew him; he sailed before I was born. He said he was seeking the other side of the world, but he never returned. The Order believed he'd been taken by the sea monster. I
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