Walking the Tree by Kaaron Warren Read Free Book Online Page A

day. People wondered aloud at his patience and dedication; in private they wondered at his obsession. Once the bench was finished, people brought him objects to work on: chairs, chopping boards, cradles. He sanded the cradle Logan and Lillah slept in, rock rock rock rock . It was solid, stories carved into the feet and the sides. It took a long time to carve and sand, all those tiny crevices, but he did it, sitting patiently on the beach and humming in time to the waves.
      Lillah sat with the baby as he dozed. She closed her eyes, letting memory take her, letting it drift her and transport her.
      Lillah thought back to when Magnolia's school had arrived at Ombu.
     
    Lillah was nineteen and word came ahead that the Number Taker was coming, travelling with the school from his own Order, Torreyas. The Number Taker always came from Torreyas, receiving training in numbers above all else. The Number Takers were known to like things ordered. They usually wore broad-brimmed hats because they didn't like to look up; the Tree with its branches and leaves was far too chaotic to make them feel comfortable.
      The children at school with the Number Taker became well versed in counting, because everything was tallied.
      If there were no dwellings to count, or people, or animals, it would be stones on the beach, piled into tens and counted in thousands.
      The arrival of the Number Taker always brought great excitement. It was so rare a man travelled and stopped to visit. The women who had missed out on being teachers looked at the Number Taker as a potential husband. Word would be sent ahead about his looks and manner.
      This one was coming with eight teachers and fifteen children, a huge parade. Word was he liked to laugh. He wanted to be amused. And that the school teachers with him were beautiful.
      Logan carried on with his business: fishing and collecting the wood. He pretended he had no interest in the teachers, that he wanted to remain single and have to worry about no one but himself.
      "Why should I take on a dependant? I'm perfectly happy with you and our parents demanding things from me."
      "So why have you taken your shirt off, then? Not trying to get browner in the sun out there?" Lillah said. She cupped saltwater in her palms and flicked it at his back. The droplets hung on the pale hairs there and he shivered.
      "Right!" he said. He put down his net and picked up a wooden bucket. Lillah squealed as he scooped it full.
      "Children!" their mother had called. "Stop playing and get moving. Come on, they'll be here soon." They could see her shaking her head on the shore.
      "You see? If I get married, no one will call me a child anymore. I'll have to be a man."
      "There is nothing manly about you," Lillah said. "Nor will there ever be." They grinned at each other. Logan went back to catching fish.
      "They won't be here for three days, though," Logan said. "We'll need to keep the fish in the water basket."
      He lowered the fish into a basket kept anchored on the shore, then dropped it under the water. The fish swam frantically, banging against the walls of the basket, able to breathe but not able to escape.
      Lillah felt breathless for them. How awful, to be locked in a cage in the water. She grimaced. "The poor creatures. It must be terrible to be trapped like that, still able to breathe but not able to swim away. Or even move very much. It must be awful."
      "We have to keep the fish fresh, Lillah. We don't want to poison the Number Taker."
      They both widened their eyes at the very idea.
      "I'd better go back and see what Mother needs," Lillah said. "I hope she doesn't let hopelessness take over. Her knees go weak and that's all she can think about."
      Lillah walked back to shore, feeling excitement in her heart. She hoped Logan's future wife was coming. Someone fun, clever, to keep him thinking and not let him turn into a mess of a man, flesh with eyes, like so many of