Beguilers by Kate Thompson Page A

which secured the top of the bag but Hemmy said, with more urgency than I would have believed possible. ‘No, no! Whatever else you do, you must never open the bag unless you need to. That is the rule, the order that you must be sure that you can follow. Never open the bag unless you need to. Can you stick to that?’
    It seemed absurd to me. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’
    ‘I don’t know,’ said Hemmy. ‘But Dabbo couldn’t. That’s what made him mad.’
    A chill ran through my bones. ‘How do you know?’
    ‘He told me so. Or at least, I gathered it from some of the things he said. The first year he was back. He warned me about the bag.’
    It was easier to be sceptical. ‘Maybe he was mad anyway?’ I said.
    ‘Maybe,’ said Hemmy. She finished the rest of her drink and then said, ‘Maybe you are, too.’
    The chuffie groaned, disturbed by the changing emotions running through the room. I did my best to control my feelings. The poor creature had enough on her plate as it was.
    As calmly as I could I finished my drink. Then I tied the little bag into another corner of the shawl, which I folded and laid across my shoulder.
    ‘What else should I take with me?’ I asked Hemmy.
    The old woman shrugged. ‘It’s up to you,’ she said. ‘But remember. On this kind of journey you can never travel too light.’

PART TWO

CHAPTER EIGHT
    M Y WAY OUT OF the village led past my house. No one was there, so I slipped in and went to the room I shared with Lenko. I was shocked to discover that all my things had already been cleared out, and for a long time I stood staring at my empty corner, unwilling to believe what I was seeing.
    Until then, I suppose that it had all seemed like a game; a test perhaps, of myself and my parents. But now I knew that it was real. I had offered my Intention and separated myself from the family. They had, according to their duties under the Given Law, already removed all reminders of me from their sight. Whether they liked it or not, as far as they were concerned, I no longer existed.
    My despair drew Tigo in from the yard. He snuffled around at my face and tried to wrap himself around my legs.
    ‘It’s all right, Tigo,’ I said. ‘I can handle it.’
    ‘Wopplecryst?’ he said.
    I nodded, numbly. ‘I’m going,’ I said. ‘I just wanted to collect some things.’
    He helped me search until we found my belongings, stuffed into two cloth bags in the winter coat-room. At least they were still in the house and the discovery lit a glimmer of hope in my heart. Despite the Law, some small corner of my parents’ lives still had room for me. Perhaps this separation was as difficult for them as it was for me? The priests could regulate their actions, after all, but not their feelings.
    I emptied everything out and sorted through it, hampered continually by Tigo’s desperate efforts to cheer me up. I chose warm clothes and precious bits and pieces and put them into one of the bags. But as soon as I hefted it on to my shoulder, I knew I had chosen too much. I emptied the bag again and, after a long deliberation, decided that Hemmy had been right. I needed to travel light. I was starting a new life and couldn’t afford to encumber myself with the trappings of the old one. When I left the house, I was wearing my winter boots instead of my sandals, and my filled water-skin was slung over my shoulder. All the other things, even my snowbuck jacket, were back in the bags where I had found them.
    The boots looked and felt ridiculous as I walked through the hot, dusty streets of the village. But I soon realised that it didn’t matter. As far as my community was concerned, I wasn’t even there. No one looked at me at all. I could have been wearing a pair of antlers and a tail; it wouldn’t have made any difference.
    I couldn’t leave the village fast enough, but as I walked along the path which led to the hill-side I was plagued by reminders of all the things that I had grown accustomed to having at