Page 115 of Circle of Days

“I know that, Joia. Kindly refrain from instructing me.”

Joia persisted. “We should at least replace priestesses who die.”

“It would be wise to wait until the crisis is over.”

That was typical. Ello always had a reason for doing nothing. Joia said: “But—”

Ello interrupted. “No novices will be recruited until the drought has come to an end. That is my decision.”

Joia knew just how bad the crisis was. Before the drought, she had devised a way of estimating how many cattle the herder community had. The exercise had needed the highest of the new numbers Soo had taught her ten midwinters ago.

She had imagined an oblong with its corners at the Monument,the village of Riverbend, a riverside hamlet called Watermeadow, and Three Streams Wood. She had walked the sides of the oblong counting every cow she could see. Guessing that she had probably been unable to see half of them, she doubled the number and got ninety-six, which she rounded up to one hundred. Then she guessed that the Great Plain probably encompassed about twenty oblongs, so the entire herd was two thousand cattle.

That had been before the drought. She had repeated the exercise a few days ago and arrived at a total of five hundred.

It was a frightening change. How soon would the number fall to nothing?

When dinner was over, and they all went outside, Joia saw her sister, Neen, waiting for her. She was always glad to see Neen. Although their lives had gone in different directions, they still had the old affectionate relationship, in which Neen was the wise older sister and Joia the youngster who needed to be looked after.

They both loved Seft, but in different ways. Joia spent a lot of time with him and they shared a dream. Neen admitted that this had bothered her, once. She had talked to their mother about it. Ani had said: “A woman knows when a man loves her, and she knows when he stops.”

“Seft hasn’t stopped loving me.”

“Then don’t worry. He’s fond of Joia in a different way.”

Neen had related that conversation to Joia, who thought their mother was absolutely right, as she usually was.

Now Joia looked at her sister’s round face and lush hair and felt a surge of affection. Then she noticed that Neen was not wearing her habitual broad smile. “Is something wrong?” she said.

“You must come to Mamma’s house,” said Neen. “There’s a woodlander there, insisting on talking to all three of us.”

“It’s probably Bez,” said Joia. “I wonder what he’s doing here. He should be hunting deer in the Northwest Hills.”

They walked quickly to Ani’s house. Bez was outside, looking solemn. Neen’s two girls, Denno and Anina, were staring at him with a mixture of curiosity and fear. Denno had seen six midsummers; Anina was still a toddler. The eldest child, Ilian, was away with Seft.

Bez held in his hands a small package wrapped in leather.

They all sat down, and Bez unwrapped the package. It contained an old pair of shoes, very large and laced on top. “Those are Han’s shoes,” said Ani grimly.

Joia gasped, fearful, and Neen put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her.

Bez passed the shoes to Ani. Her voice was shaky as she said: “What is this stain? It looks like blood!”

Bez said: “I have come to tell you that Han is dead.”

Joia cried: “No!” Tears flooded her eyes. “He can’t be dead!”

“I’m sorry,” Bez said. “He was killed by an arrow.”

Joia turned her head in to Neen’s shoulder. “He can’t be dead, he’s my brother,” she said. Neen was crying too.

Ani’s voice was unsteady, but she had questions. “Was it an accident?”

“Not an accident.”

“Who shot the arrow?”

“Stam, the son of Troon.”