The Journey by John Marsden Read Free Book Online Page A

n the first night after the company left Ifeka they camped on a low windswept plain near a small lake. There was a strange tang in the air, a taste on the wind, that Mayon told Argus was the first sharp bite of the ocean. Argus was excited and enchanted. He sat late that night at the big fire, enjoying the cold salt ruffles of air on his face, until the only people left around the coals were Ruth, Mayon, the male-female Tiresias, the storytellers Delta and Cassim, the spidery Titius and a dark, attractive young girl named Temora, who had been employed as a stringer just before the convoy left Ifeka.
    Argus was only half listening to the conversation, which was about the town of Wintle, where they were headed. With zest and good humour, Ruth was recounting the story of her last trip to Wintle, when she had apparently married a man who had deserted her a week later. Argus did not know how much, if any, of the story was true, but it did not seem to matter to anyone else. ‘A good story is a good story’ was the creed of the professional storytellers of the fair, and Argus was inclined to agree with them.
    â€˜It was a wonderful honeymoon,’ Ruth sighed romantically, ‘until we had an argument one night over who should put the cat out. Well, you know how hard it is for me to get up at nights. Every other night he put it out, but this night he dug his little heels in and nothing would shift him. Maybe I’d worn him out.’ She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘So there was nothing else for it but for me to get up and do it myself. Oh, I wasn’t half mad. So after I’d put the cat out I came back and put him out too. He kicked and struggled but I wasn’t having any. I threw him out the door, down the steps, and that was it. After I’d closed the door on him I never saw him again.’
    â€˜Yes, I remember,’ said Cassim. ‘He was only wearing a pair of shorts. Jud took pity on him and gave him a bed for the night but he went early the next morning, taking Jud’s only good set of clothes. And that was the last any of us ever saw of him.’
    â€˜Well, he could have been worse off,’ Ruth sighed. ‘Remember Marma, the fat lady who used to work on the east coast years ago? Did you ever hear what became of her and her man?’
    â€˜No, what happened?’ Mayon asked.
    â€˜Well, she passed out as they were going up a set of stairs one day in the house that they’d bought for their old age. And she fell back on top of the little fellow and crushed him to death. She came to an hour later and found him dead underneath her.’
    None of the company seemed to be much moved by this sad tale, except the new girl, Temora. ‘It must be hard being a fat lady,’ she said quietly.
    â€˜Well,’ said Ruth, delighted at finding a sympathetic ear, ‘it’s hard when you have to walk any distance, especially if it’s uphill. There’s no gainsaying that. And it’s not nice when people make unkind remarks to you, like they do in the tent sometimes. But most people just enjoy a chat. I’d have to say, all things considered, that it’s been a good life. You see, I’ve been especially blessed.’
    â€˜How’s that?’ asked Temora.
    â€˜Well, you see dear, being a lusus, it means you’re given a very fortunate life.’
    â€˜What’s a lusus?’ Argus whispered to Mayon.
    â€˜A kind of a freak,’ the man whispered back.
    But Temora was pursuing the point. ‘How do you figure that, fortunate?’ she asked. ‘I mean, no offence, but I guess most people think if you’re born a lusus you’ve been given a pretty tough deal.’
    â€˜Oh no,’ the fat woman remonstrated as though the idea had never occurred to her before. ‘Oh no, quite the opposite. I mean, everyone’s a freak anyway. I’m just lucky that I don’t have to work at it. I make a good living out of being