Giant, page 15
‘Eh? Speak up, child.’
She repeated herself, shouting.
The giant peered down and looked at Minnie properly for the first time. ‘I am Blade,’ he announced.
‘They call you that on account – of your knives?’ stuttered Robin, looking warily around the giant’s massive frame.
‘On account of my wit,’ said Blade. ‘Although – funny you should mention it – I also love a good dagger.’ And he lifted up a flap of material which might have once been a waistcoat, and treated them to a glimpse of shining knife-edges nestling in a leather pouch.
Robin made a tiny moan which he covered up with a cough.
Blade’s face twitched. ‘Very good for opening tricky nuts. Don’t suppose you have any, do you?’
‘Sorry,’ said Robin, relief flooding his voice. ‘Not today.’
Blade looked visibly disappointed. ‘Shame,’ he sighed, nearly blowing them all over again. ‘I love nuts. Such a great snack and source of energy.’ Then he seemed to remember why he’d brought the children out. ‘You are trespassing here,’ he said, reasonably. ‘Why?’ A huge finger the length of a desk was pointed at Minnie. ‘Speak.’
Somewhat reassured that they weren’t going to die, at least not immediately, Minnie swallowed. ‘I’m on the run,’ she shouted. ‘And he’s with me because … well, because he helped me, and now he’s in trouble.’
Blade frowned. ‘You? On the run? A nice girl from a respectable part of the island? With everything to live for?’ It was almost skilful how he made that sound like an insult. ‘Why?’
Maybe it was the heat, or maybe it was Blade’s actually quite kindly eyes, but Minnie decided to just be honest. ‘I have a giant. I was meant to turn her to stone today.’ To her horror, tears began to spring from her eyes. She put both hands to her face and went quiet, struggling not to sob.
‘She didn’t want to go through with the ceremony,’ whispered Robin.
‘You didn’t want to? Well, well, well,’ said Blade again, and this time his voice was soft and wondering. He looked into Minnie’s eyes. ‘I’ve never heard of that before. Perhaps there are some hearts behind those city walls.’
Minnie blinked back her tears. She tilted her head back and stared up into Blade’s face, even though it hurt her neck to do it, and she saw only wonder and sadness there.
‘Did you say you were being followed?’ said Blade, suddenly, his yellow eyes narrowed.
The children hesitated. ‘The Giant Management Company are looking for me,’ admitted Minnie.
‘Do they know you’re here?’ said Blade, his voice taut.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘There was no sign of them behind us, though, once we got to the mountain.’
Blade seemed to weigh up what to do. ‘Well, this is a tough one,’ he admitted. He pointed up to the ledge. ‘Usually, if anyone falls into my trap and survives, I pick them up and fling them back over the ridge as best I can. And if the GMC know you’re here, then you’ll have brought us trouble, and we can do without that. But –’ he eyed the children, and the jackal – ‘if an animal of the island has stayed with you this long, you can’t be all bad. And I have to admit, you intrigue me. Especially you.’ His yellow eyes blinked at Minnie. ‘Very much you. Fancy you running away from your own ceremony! This is … new. And you live right inside Quake Quarter, as well, which could be very useful for our search—’ Abruptly, he bit off the rest of his sentence, as if he thought he had said too much. ‘Never mind.’
‘Your search?’ Minnie gulped. Had Blade just admitted they were looking for children to steal? ‘Searching for what?’
But the red-haired, nut-loving, knife-carrying giant turned away, surprisingly nimble for one so vast, his many ribbons and strips of fabric whirling with the movement, and he took huge strides down a wide scorched path. ‘Follow me,’ he said, curtly. ‘Please.’ He looked at Twist, and grinned, and Minnie gasped at the sight of all those giant teeth. ‘You too, boy.’
The jackal wagged his tail and plunged after him.
‘He wants us to follow him even deeper into No-Go?’ Minnie said.
‘Seems like it,’ said Robin, slowly.
‘He didn’t even try to persuade us.’
‘He doesn’t have to,’ said Robin. ‘Or are you forgetting the knives?’
Blade turned around and smiled graciously. ‘I’m not sure if I mentioned this amid all the excitement, but you have no choice here. I just added the “please” next to “follow me” to be polite. Can’t believe I had to spell that out,’ he grumbled to himself, turning down the path again.
So they followed the giant into the heart of the lawless mountains; the place which had haunted Minnie’s nightmares since she was tiny. And with every step she took on the black earth, that feeling of destiny grew stronger.
MINNIE HAD ALWAYS assumed the inside of No-Go would be overgrown and scary with wildness. But the track Blade led them down was just as scorched as the mountain path they’d taken earlier. With every step they took into the belly of the place, Minnie felt increasingly helpless, at the mercy of the strange giant thundering away in front of them. How on earth would they escape? Perhaps if she’d paid more attention during geography, she’d have an idea of how to flee this bleak place. But they’d never really learned that much about No-Go, apart from how terrible its inhabitants were.
Blade’s gold-flecked beard swung as he marched on. Why had he decided to move them on? And, more importantly, what would happen once they got there? While she fretted, the sun beat down on them. I’m going to burn, thought Minnie, glancing at her ankles and wrists.
They reached a vast square, at least three times the size of the Old Town. Around the perimeter were burned-out, hollow tree stumps, on which rough planks of wood had been nailed. On these were goods, the size and type of which made both children gasp. Medicine bottles the height of a pony, mammoth bouquets of dried herbs that would have made a bed collapse, shrivelled slices of fruit the length of her arm, dusty barrels of various liquids, huge tankards …
A few giants were desultorily browsing these stalls, talking in low voices with the traders behind them.
They had reached the giants’ market.
Around a makeshift bar, in various stages of wakefulness, were giants of all ages. Some were hunched over half-empty tankards; some were beginning to drain full ones. As they watched, one woman gulped down the contents of a glass before throwing it to the floor, making it smash. As her companions clapped, Minnie remembered the sound of breaking glass she’d heard from the mountain ridge. This, it appeared, was as good a game as it got within No-Go. She eyed the group fearfully. They were the fugitives. The lawless ones. The rebel ones. Right up close. She held her breath a little and shuffled a bit closer to Robin.
In between the few transactions, the stall owners spent their time glancing at the mountain peaks above them, fearfully. Minnie remembered, with a pang of surprise, that she’d been doing exactly the same thing at Florin’s ceremony. She’d never thought the giants on the inside would ever do the same thing.
What could they possibly be frightened of? Her thoughts tumbled through her. She’d always thought No-Go was a place of pure evil, but all she saw was fear and sadness. The only thing that seemed to cheer any of them up was the sight of Twist. All the giants in the market noticed him, and tried to tempt him over, holding out titbits and whistling. Twist gave them all a sweet gaze from his almond-shaped eyes, held his head proudly and trotted on, as if to say he was flattered by the adoration and not at all surprised by it, but he was quite busy, unfortunately, and couldn’t stop.
The four crossed the market and followed another charred track, Blade barely bothering to check that the children were behind him. On either side of this path grew a few short golden grasses, which eased the landscape’s misery a bit, yet the air still smelled of smoke.
‘Do you – have a lot of barbecues?’ asked Minnie.
Blade snorted, but said nothing.
Finally they reached a clearing, an area of grass stubble which had been flattened. And within this space were two giants.
The older one, a woman, was sitting on a wooden stool. She had elegant hands which were resting calmly in her lap, although Minnie noticed the backs of them were puckered and twisted with scars, like Blade’s.
The other giant, a younger woman, was sitting on the ground next to a mound of old rags. She was ripping these into long thin strips. Both had the same clothing as Blade – that is, garments made entirely of strips of fabric knotted to each other, then fashioned into loose tunics. They looked, Minnie thought, oddly comfortable. She found herself comparing the clothes to the tight, ill-fitting dress she’d had to wear to Florin’s ceremony, and knew which she preferred.
At the children’s approach, the two giants regarded them calmly. It was only when they got a bit closer that Minnie saw how still the women held themselves; their yellow eyes seemed to flicker with a million thoughts, one after the other.
‘Blade,’ said the older female giant, bringing her scarred hands together in gratitude, ‘you brought them speedily. Thank you.’
‘You heard the news then, Issa?’
‘We did. Something this rare travels fast.’ She looked at Minnie and Robin, as if sizing them up, and then said, to Blade: ‘Have you got a sharp knife?’
Blade beamed with delight. ‘I do! Let’s see now …’
Minnie and Robin shared a terrified glance. They’d been tricked! All their wildest fears had been right. While Blade reached into his peculiar multi-coloured waistcoat and pulled out the longest, shiniest knife he had, Minnie’s blood turned to ice. We should never have come, she thought, furious and scared at the same time. I was right all along.
BLADE HELD UP a knife that was as long as a carriage, and sliced it slowly through the air, grinning with menace.
‘Something like this?’ he said, turning the knife edge this way and that. Robin made a tiny whimpering noise. Minnie grabbed his hand and tugged it, but her legs were too wobbly to run.
The older giant looked at Blade’s offering and smiled gently. ‘Yes, that will be perfect. Chesca, please bring out the cake.’
Minnie and Robin glanced at each other. Cake?
‘You must be hungry and thirsty, children. We took the liberty of preparing you food and drink.’ Issa smiled ruefully. ‘It’s simple fare, as we can’t grow much, but it should fill you up.’ Behind them, the younger giant was carrying a large tray. On this was heaped a huge circular object, the size of which made Minnie and Robin gasp, for the sponge underneath was at least the width of a carriage wheel.
‘That’s a cake?’ said Robin.
Issa beamed proudly. ‘It is indeed. An old recipe, going back hundreds of years.’
‘I – I’ve never seen giant food before,’ murmured Robin.
‘Me neither,’ said Minnie, realising it for the first time. Back at home, Speck ate what they ate – except more of it, if it was available. Minnie used to think there was something undignified about the way Speck had to gobble several portions of food to feel full. Now she wondered if there was something wrong instead with the way humans fed giants such tiny portions. Wasn’t there something cruel about it? Was Speck permanently hungry?
‘Bark cake,’ said the older giant, breaking into these thoughts. ‘We grind the bark of trees for flour. Then we soften it with any seaweed we can salvage from the beaches. Those trips aren’t made many times a year, as, if we are caught, we get thrown into the dungeon. Please, I’d like you to have some.’
Minnie grimaced at the mention of seaweed.
‘Giants have died for that cake to be made,’ Blade growled. ‘Eat some.’
‘Sounds delicious,’ said Minnie, hastily.
‘Wait,’ said Blade, agreeably. ‘Let me cut you a slice each.’
Blade sliced down into the sponge with obvious enjoyment at the excuse to use one of his knives. Once he’d finished, he placed a slice each into Minnie and Robin’s outstretched hands. Each piece was as big as a pillow, and required both hands to hold it, so Minnie found herself staring, for the first time in her life, at a literal armful of cake. It smelled a little of seaweed and salt, and it was extremely heavy.
The children shot surprised looks at each other. It didn’t take long for their arms to begin to shake. Robin raised an eyebrow, said, ‘Here goes nothing,’ opened his mouth and plunged straight in. Within seconds, his face had disappeared into the slice. He made a tiny surprised noise, hesitated and then continued eating. Without any cutlery or plate, Minnie realised she had no option but to do exactly the same …
It wasn’t a sweet cake. It was barely, really, a cake. It tasted exactly of what it was made of, and she couldn’t say she hadn’t been warned – and it dried her mouth out, but it was food, at least, and she didn’t want to appear rude by spitting it out. When Twist nudged her leg pointedly, Minnie was happy to accidentally on purpose drop most of her piece for him. She thought longingly of the pastries in Quake Quarter, and glanced over at Robin, but the boy was licking his lips.
‘Reminds me of the mud cookies Mum used to make,’ he said, ‘when times were really hard.’ He blushed a little. Minnie looked down at the ground, embarrassed for a moment.
While he ate and the jackal snuffled on the ground for more of the bark cake, Blade and the two other giants muttered to one another. Fragments of their conversation came to Minnie.
‘In the trap,’ Blade was saying. ‘… Quake Quarter … wants to prevent … ceremony, she said.’
There was a loaded pause.
‘Interesting. Thank you, Blade,’ said the older female giant, who wore a faded collection of light turquoise fabrics, gathered and tied round her in a series of tight knots. She plucked at one of the strips and Minnie noticed, again, that scar on the back of her hand.
Blade reached for a slice of cake, finished it in two bites, wiped his knife on his sleeve, and put it away carefully. ‘I won’t stay. There are only two other lookouts patrolling the entire barrier. Goodbye, children. Don’t forget to speak up.’
He saved his warmest smile, however, for the jackal, who gave a whine as Blade walked out of the clearing, but stayed where he was, much to Minnie’s relief.
‘I am Issa,’ said the older giant pleasantly, reassembling herself on her stool. ‘I suppose I am the elder of No-Go. And this –’ she indicated the young giant who had brought over the cake, but who had now gone back to ripping fabric – ‘is Chesca. She reached us last year from the GMC, and has stayed with us ever since.’
‘She ran away from the compound?’ gasped Minnie.
Chesca gave her a loaded look, and nodded, while a dark thrill ran through Minnie. Chesca was a criminal. Minnie felt guilty just looking at her. Once Robin had finished his cake, there was a pause.
‘And so,’ said Issa, matter-of-factly, ‘what can we do for you?’
‘P– pardon?’
‘You must be here for a reason. No one ever just strolls through. So what is it? If you tell us, maybe we can be of some assistance.’ Issa smiled. ‘And in return – perhaps you can help us.’
Robin swallowed. ‘How would we do that?’
‘Oh, there’s always something. Knowledge, usually.’
Minnie took a deep, shuddering breath. ‘Can I just check one thing?’ she said, nervously.
‘Yes,’ said Issa.
‘Are you going to harm us?’
‘Or eat us?’ said Robin.
Chesca snorted, but said nothing.
‘Harm you? Eat you?’ said Issa mildly. ‘No. Whatever gave you that idea?’
Were they teasing?
‘Well, we know that you try to steal human children on a regular basis,’ Minnie said, tentatively. Issa didn’t deny it. ‘Why would you be doing that, if it wasn’t to do something – nasty?’
A flicker of pain raced across Issa’s features. She took a deep breath. ‘You’re partly right,’ she admitted. ‘But we don’t want to harm a child. We’re not trying to steal anyone. We’re searching for one.’
‘Isn’t that the same thing?’ said Robin, going a bit pink at his own daring.
‘Not really,’ said Issa. ‘But enough of that, for the time being. Why are you here?’
Minnie remembered what Blade had told them: how the truth was their most valuable currency in No-Go. She puffed her cheeks out, and decided she had nothing to lose. ‘Well, I have a … giant. A servant. Like a lot of people have, where I live.’
Chesca ripped a piece of fabric extra loudly. Twist’s ears swivelled in alarm, but he settled on the ground, watching them all.
Issa nodded. ‘Yes. We know of your customs. What is the name of the giant who cares for you?’
Minnie’s lips trembled. ‘Speck. Well, that’s her nickname. I don’t know her real name.’
Issa and Chesca looked at each other.
‘My ceremony was meant to happen yesterday.’ Minnie paused. ‘Do you know what a ceremony is?’
‘Yes,’ said Issa. ‘We know. We see the statues that preserve your bridges and mansions. We see them every time we venture down on to the plain. The giants who gave their lives.’
‘Y– yes. For the good of the … well, anyway, I – I decided that I wasn’t ready for my ceremony. It was sprung on me, last minute, because of the quake. Did you feel it?’
The two giants shook their golden heads, slowly. ‘It didn’t quite reach us,’ said Issa after a while. ‘They generally don’t.’
‘Oh.’ There it was again; that earthquake glitch that Minnie was only just beginning to realise existed. Why did the quakes only target bits of the island, and leave the others alone? And why would Mrs Primrose lie about it? ‘Most of Quake Quarter was destroyed,’ Minnie continued. ‘They needed an urgent supply of statues. They wanted me to do my ceremony earlier than planned. I didn’t think I could. So I ran away.’
‘Why?’ said Issa, and she and Chesca seemed to go very quiet.
‘Because if I stayed away, then – then my giant wouldn’t—’
‘Be murdered by your barbaric tradition?’ suggested Chesca, quietly.
