The work on the Wall had commenced in earnest. Whole forests of trees had been felled. Involved in this process were long saws and axes and cretas and sleps and back-breaking Wug work. All able-bodied males were recruited to do these tasks, while other less physically fit Wugmorts and some females started digging out the foundations on the ground where the Wall would be erected and also the deep moats on either side. Council had wholeheartedly embraced my brother’s idea of a layered defence.
I continued to work at Stacks, but I stopped finishing pretty things. I was helping to build metal straps that would hold the logs and placement posts together once they were laid into place as part of the Wall.
Delph worked harder than anyone, his great muscles pulling and pushing and his lungs near to bursting as he dragged or carried heavy objects where they needed to go. We did not speak. Neither of us had the breath.
His father, Duf, led teams of sleps in bringing the felled trees from the forest to the Wall. His trained cretas were employed to pull on the stout ropes attached to strong pulleys that lifted the logs into place, their huge chests and muscled withers straining with the immense effort. I eyed the elaborate pulley system and figured it might be one of John’s creations.
The youngs brought food and water to the workers and did some of the tasks that required nimble fingers instead of muscled arms. The females kept the stoves burning and the meals coming for the hungry Wugs. All of us were driven to work hard by the idea that evil Outliers might turn up any sliver and devour the entire place. I was still not convinced this was the case, but it was better to hedge one’s bets. And every seventh light we would go to Steeples because it was now required. Ezekiel warned us in a booming voice filled with fiery brimstone that to not complete the Wall in the shortest possible time would spell our absolute doom.
I’m sure that provided much-needed pious comfort and solace for many a Wug’s frazzled nerves. I had never been at war, but I could sense that Wormwood was becoming a place preparing to be struck by the enemy.
I set about my work with great zeal. Perhaps it was to show Morrigone that John was not the only capable member of the Jane family. Maybe it was to demonstrate to myself that I had some worth.
I rose before first light most times and was on my way to my tree with my tin of food slivers after eating a morsel or two at the Loons. I suppose as some sort of token of gratitude for John going to live with Morrigone, the Loons had been instructed by her to increase my ration portions, including a first meal, however insubstantial.
‘More food for the likes-a you and why’s that, I ask?’ Cletus Loon had barked at me one night as I was heading up to my cot. ‘We males are out there killing ourselves felling them trees. And you’re at Stacks probably skiving off most of the time. ’Tain’t fair. Wugs are brassed off, I can tell you that.’
‘I don’t skip work at Stacks. Do you really think Domitar would allow that?’ I added with a malicious smile. ‘And I thought you were patrolling with your morta, shooting little, tiny birds before they can swoop down and get you.’
‘I work the trees at light and they expect me to patrol at night,’ he snapped.
‘Well, it’s good to keep busy,’ I told him and then headed up the stairs.
Over twenty lights after John had gone to live with Morrigone, I arrived very early at my tree. Our parting had been sad for both of us. John clearly had mixed feelings. What Wug wouldn’t want to live like Morrigone, in total luxury, and with servants to do what every other Wug had to do for themselves?
Yet I knew that John did not want to leave me. It wasn’t just the tears he spilt and the soft cries he let escape as Morrigone escorted him out to the carriage without me. It was the look on his face that spoke loudest to me. My brother loved me and I loved him and that was really all there was to it. But go he did. He had no choice.
On my first visit to John, he hadn’t changed all that much. Well, he was scrubbed clean and his clothes were new and his body looked a bit more filled out. He had been both sad that we had parted and thrilled with the potential of his new life. John confirmed that the pulley system was his invention. I marvelled at how quickly he had been able to do such a thing. He had shyly accepted my praise, which made me even prouder of him. As I was leaving, he gave me a crushing hug. I finally had to gently pry myself free.
At my second visit, a definite change had taken place. John was far less sad; his excitement about his new life and his important work for Wormwood was now paramount. He wore his new clothes easily and didn’t seem the least bit awed by his luxurious surroundings. Morrigone fed me, but she didn’t leave me and John alone this time. When I took my leave, John gave me a brief hug and then bounded up the stairs to his room to, as he said, ‘Finish up some important work on the Wall.’
After this visit, as Morrigone opened the front door to see me out, she’d said, ‘He is thriving. I hope you can see that.’
‘I can,’ I had said.
‘Be happy for him, Vega.’
‘I am happy for him,’ I had replied truthfully.
She looked me over and then held out a handful of coins. ‘Please take these.’
‘Why? I have done nothing to earn them.’
‘As a means of thanking you for allowing John to come and live with me.’
I had looked at the coins in her outstretched palm. Part of me wanted to snatch them out of her hand. ‘No, thanks,’ I had said, and then I turned and walked back to the Loons, foregoing the offered carriage ride.
I now looked down from my high perch in my tree. I had not seen any patrols on my way here and I strongly suspected that many Wugs were unable to carry out both hauling trees during light and acting as Carbineers at night.
Thus, I backed up to the very end of my boards, took off running and leaped into the sky. The air enveloped me as I soared upward. I flew straight for a few yards and then I did a barrel roll, not once but three times, making myself a bit dizzy in the process. Still, it felt wonderful.
I landed smoothly and stood there for a sliver or two, breathing in the cool air.
I heard it before I saw anything. Four legs, moving rapidly. But I was not afraid, not this time. I had Destin, so I could take to the sky in an instant if I needed to.
It came around one tree, slowed and then stopped. Its haunches went up and its long nose came down close to the dirt. I took a few halting steps forward, hardly able to believe my eyes. It rose up and then sat back on its tail.
‘Harry?’ I said.
But of course it was not Harry. Many sessions ago, I had a canine I’d instantly loved. I called him Harry because he was hairy. He was not too big and not too small, with beautifully soft dark eyes topped by long eyelashes, and a mingling of brown, white and rust fur. He walked into my life one light and instantly loved me with all his heart. He trusted me. And I missed him terribly.
I was also the reason Harry was dead. I had walked too close to the edge of the Quag with him, and a garm had come after me. Harry had got in between us trying to defend me, and the garm had killed him. Even now, as I recalled this terrible memory, tears filled my eyes. It had been my job to take care of Harry and I had let him down, costing my canine his life. I would never forgive myself for it.
Yet this canine, I swear, could have been Harry’s twin. I took a few more steps forward and he rose up on all fours, his tail sweeping back and forth and his tongue hanging out.
‘Harry?’ I said again.
The canine came forward hesitantly and then he broke into a run before skidding to a halt inches from me. Light was just breaking as the sun began its rise.
I touched his head. The fur was soft and warm, and his eyes were mismatched: right, blue; left, green. Harry had had the same, but their order had been reversed.
I knelt next to him and took one of his front paws. He allowed me to do so with a hint of mild curiosity on his face. The paws were large and promised that the little canine would grow to be large.
Then I noted that his coat was dirty and I could see his ribs through the fur. He also had a cut on his front left leg that needed some sorting out. I scratched his ears and thought about what to do. I knew that Loon was not keen on beasts at his digs. At the very least, he would demand more coin, which I did not have. I would have to let this canine carry on without me.
I rose and started to walk away. But he followed me. I picked up my pace, and so did he. On sudden impulse I took off running and soared into the air. I thought that would be the end of it. But when I looked down, he was right there, running hard and keeping up with me somehow. I swooped lower and landed, and he skidded to a stop at my feet, panting and his tongue hanging out. His blue and green eyes were fully on my face. He seemed to be wondering why I had just done what I had.
I opened the tin in my tuck and held out a knob of bread for him. As hungry as he no doubt was, I expected him to snatch it from between my fingers. But he slowly lifted his snout, sniffed at it and then gently eased it from my hand before devouring it.
I sat next to him and pulled out the bit of meat, a slice of hard cheese and the one egg that, along with the bread, was supposed to constitute my first meal. I laid them on the ground. Again, he sniffed at them before gobbling them up. Then he rolled over so I could scratch his belly, which I did.
When he turned back over, he nudged my hand on to the top of his head. Harry used to do that too. Yet maybe all canines do. Harry was the only one I’d ever had. I stumbled on to him in much the same way as this, walking in the woods and seeing him darting between the trees, chasing a rabbit. He didn’t catch the rabbit, but he did capture my heart.
Now I pondered what to do.
‘I can call you Harry Two,’ I said.
His ears peaked and he cocked his snout at me. Adars can understand Wugmorts, but I knew that canines really could not. Still, Harry Two seemed to know that I had just given him a name.
I looked to the sky. Soon, it would be time for me to go to Stacks. I rubbed Harry Two’s ears, letting my fingers slide up and down each one. Harry had liked that and I figured this one would too. He did, and licked my hand in appreciation.
I came up with a plan. On the way to Stacks, I threw sticks for Harry Two to chase. And he brought them back each time. I scratched his ears, and when we reached Stacks, I paused, bent down, pointed to Stacks and told him to wait.
He immediately sat down. I put down a small tin cup pulled from my tuck and poured some water into it from the cork-stoppered pewter bottle I carried. There was a tree above to provide shade. I figured if he were still out here when I finished work, I would worry what to do about him then.
I left Harry Two and walked into Stacks. After I put on my work clothes, I walked out on to the main floor and approached my workstation. I eyed the stairs up. Ladon-Tosh was no longer guarding them. He was probably felling trees along with all the other hardy Wugs. I was actually one of the few Wugs left at Stacks. All but three of the Dactyls were gone, using their muscle to bring down the great trees and strip them of their bark. The ones who were left had to do the work of many Dactyls, to whack and gong metal into the requisite shapes and thickness for straps. There were a few Mixers left, who were using all of their energy to ready the metal for the Dactyls. From the Dactyls the still-hot metal moved to the Cutters, who made the strips into the necessary lengths and widths. And then it was left to me to finish them. There seemed to be an infinite number of straps required for the Wall. That was testament enough to the enormity of the project.
During my meal break, I went outside and was heartened to see Harry Two still lying in the grass where I had left him. I went over and petted him.
‘No beasts in Stacks,’ barked a voice.
I turned to see Domitar behind me. I thought it ironic that he would not allow a canine in Stacks when jabbits were permitted to run freely.
‘He’s not in Stacks, is he?’ I countered.
Domitar drew closer. ‘Is he your canine?’
‘Perhaps. We’ll see.’
‘I had a pet once,’ said Domitar. I was stunned when he squatted down next to Harry Two and rubbed his ears.
‘You had a pet, Domitar?’ I wondered if it had been a jabbit.
He looked embarrassed. ‘When I was a very young of course. It was also a canine.’
‘What did you call him?’
He hesitated, perhaps afraid that I might consider him soft by naming a beast.
‘Julius,’ he finally answered.
‘Your given name?’ I said.
‘Yes. You think that’s peculiar, do you?’
‘No. You can name a canine whatever you want.’
‘What is yours called?’
‘Harry Two.’
‘Why Two?’
‘I had a canine named Harry when I lived with my parents, but a garm killed him.’
Domitar looked down. ‘I am sorry for that.’ And he indeed did look truly sad.
‘And Julius?’
‘He died when I was still a very young.’
‘How?’
‘It doesn’t matter, does it? Not much matters any more, not really.’
When I looked down into his face, I was surprised to see his eyes gazing out listlessly over the terrain in front of Stacks. He was a Wugmort who seemed totally lost.
‘Times are changing and Wugmorts must change with them, Vega,’ he said. ‘But we must carry on here. No bodge jobs ever at Stacks. Quality work through and through, so long as I’m in charge.’
I looked over my shoulder at the entrance to Stacks, my curiosity, always close to the surface, compelling me to ask a question. ‘Domitar, what did this place used to be?’
He didn’t look at me, although I saw his body stiffen with the query.
‘It has always been Stacks,’ he said.
‘Always?’ I said sceptically.
‘Well, since I have been alive.’
‘But you haven’t been alive as long as this place has been here, Domitar. I bet it’s hundreds of sessions old, maybe more.’
‘Then what good would an answer to your query be?’ he replied.
The words seemed harsh, though truthfully his tone was one of resignation.
‘Do you think the Wall will hold the Outliers back?’
Now he glanced up at me. ‘I am certain it will.’
The way he said it troubled me greatly. Not because I didn’t think he believed his own words, but because I could tell he absolutely believed them to be true.
‘Mealtime is over,’ he said, his usual harsh tone back in full force.
I headed back to Stacks. But when I turned around, I saw Domitar was still squatting next to Harry Two and petting him. I saw him pull out a piece of bread and some cheese and feed it to my canine. I even thought I saw Domitar smile.
Times indeed were changing in Wormwood.