Page 22 of Circle of Days

The East River was still flowing, but it was shallow. Seft studied it with Tem. Seft had been head of the cleverhands since Dallo died, and Tem was his right-hand man.

When Tem had accompanied Seft to Riverbend, all those years ago, he had intended to go back to work for his uncle, Wun, in the flint mine. Then he had fallen in love with Joia’s friend Vee. Now they were a couple with a house in Riverbend and two children.

Seft and Tem were the first people to be consulted about any problem of carpentry or landscape. They knew little about living things, the ailments of cattle or trees or human beings; but they had a reputation for clever solutions to problems of inanimate objects such as houses and axes and rafts.

They worked together comfortably, and the two families often spent the evenings together. Seft sometimes thought that Tem was what a brother was supposed to be like.

The communal life of the herders suited them well. It was a collective effort, where everyone worked together and got fed and shared the rewards, if there were any—just like a flint mine.

Today they were south of Riverbend by a distance that could be walked in the time it took for a pot to boil.

Here livestock often came to drink. But in the drought, as the beasts had encroached on the riverbed in reaching for a shrinking stream of water, they had trodden down the banks, and instead of a river there was a field of mud.

The continuation of the river downstream was no more than a trickle.

Tem said: “We have to rebuild the banks.”

Seft nodded. “We need to drive stakes into the ground along the paths of the old banks, then secure the stakes with rocks on the inside and earth on the outside. If a few bushes grow in the earth, so much the better—their roots will strengthen the new banks.”

“The new waterway needs to be narrower than the old, so that the water runs high enough for the beasts to drink without stepping in,” said Tem.

“We can judge by the natural banks upstream.”

Seft had anticipated something like this, and had brought a dozen cleverhands with him. Now he set them to cutting stakes, hammering them into the mud, and piling stones and earth on either side.

With enough people the work went quickly, but still it would take a few days. Soon everyone was covered in mud, but no one minded. The spring sunshine kept them warm, and they would wash in the river at the end of the day.

Seft was marking the line of the new bank on the far side when a herder man passing by stopped to speak to him. “Someone was looking for you, Seft,” he said. “I didn’t know where you were.”

“Who was it?”

“He didn’t say his name.”

“What did he look like?”

“Big chap. One eye and a big scar down his face.”

Seft’s heart sank. It was his brother Olf. “What did he say?”

“Just that he was looking for you.”

“Thank you,” Seft said.

The man nodded and went away.

Tem had heard the interchange, and now said: “Bad news.”

“I haven’t seen Olf for ten midsummers and I’d be happy not to see him for another ten.”

Tem nodded. “As I recall, the last words you said to him were that if you ever saw him again you’d take his other eye.”

It was a different Seft who had made the threat. That young man had been terrified but defiant. Seft was no longer frightened of Olf. Big stupid men were not so difficult to deal with when you were surrounded by a large, supportive family and a host of good neighbors.

But what on earth had brought Olf here after all these years?

Seft sighed. He had better find out.

Tem read his mind. “Go on,” he said. “I can handle this. Go home and deal with your brother.”

“Thanks.”

Walking home, Seft reflected on how his life had changed.

He had longed to be with Neen, his wish had come true, and they still loved each other after ten midwinters.

He had vowed to have a family different from the one he had grown up in, and that wish had come true too.

He and Neen had three children, they loved them all, and no one was derided or tormented or beaten.

And he was no longer the mistreated runt of the litter. He was an honored person among the herder folk, someone they consulted about problems and turned to in trouble. Everyone knew him, and he was greeted deferentially by people he hardly knew.

For a long time he had thought that this life would carry on unchanged until the end of his days.

But the drought had changed that. The herder community was not invulnerable.

It might be wiped out just by the weather.

He felt a new burden, the responsibility of protecting the herder folk and their way of life.

He admired Ani for her dedication to the welfare of her people.

After the murder of Inka, Ani had devised a rationing system to prevent waste and avoid quarrels about meat. It had been adopted, though not easily. People hated it, but respected individuals such as Keff and Joia and Seft had championed it, and eventually most herders saw the sense of it.

Peace returned, and there were no more fights over food. But if the drought persisted there would be more trouble.

Olf was not a threat to the herder society, but he was a disrupter, and his arrival felt menacing. Seft was not fearful, but wary, as he neared his home.

Olf and Cam were sitting on the ground outside the house, eating hares’ ears.

Game was not included in the rationing scheme, and Neen had been given a hare by someone whose house Seft had repaired.

The ears had to be boiled all day, then roasted, and even then they were chewy, but Olf and Cam were tearing and chomping like starving men.

They looked starved, too. Olf was half the size he used to be, and Cam was as thin as a stick.

They were also dirty and their clothes were ragged.

Olf had no shoes and Cam’s tunic was ripped.

They were in some kind of trouble, clearly. And that would be why they were here.

He looked at Neen, who was standing with her arms folded, looking guardedly at Olf and Cam, as if they were strange dogs who might not be fully housebroken.

Recalling the events of ten years ago, he realized that she had never met his brothers.

But she knew about the beating he had suffered that day and, over the years, he had told her all about his childhood.

She had asked him once or twice about his mother.

He rarely spoke about her, and did not like to remember her death, but when Neen asked he had felt the need to explain.

The way he recalled it, his mother had been kind and generous, and when she died there was no one who loved him.

When he said this to Neen, his childish grief and bewilderment rolled over him like a stampeding herd and knocked him flat, and he had astonished himself by bursting into tears.

Now Neen was visibly relieved to see Seft.

Her body relaxed and she smiled. The older children were staring at the bedraggled newcomers.

Ilian, the eldest at nine, seemed to be struggling to come to grips with the idea that such creatures were part of his family.

Denno, the older girl, five years old, just gazed at Olf’s disfigured face.

Seft decided not to tell the children that he was the one who had done that damage.

Olf himself might tell them, though. He had never had a sense of tact and Seft doubted whether he had learned one.

Anina, a year old, was lying on her belly, waving her arms and legs, trying to crawl, oblivious of the strange visitors.

This was not like a family reunion. In other houses Seft had seen them hugging and backslapping, joking and laughing, bursting with memories and anecdotes. Here the atmosphere was tense, no one saying much, little noise except for the hares’ ears being loudly consumed.

Seft did not sit down. Looking at Olf and Cam, he said: “What has brought you here, after ten midwinters?”

Olf continued chewing while he spoke. “Our father is dead,” he said.

Seft’s immediate reaction was incomprehension. What did that mean? How could it be? Father, dead? Then common sense returned. His father had been old—Seft did not know how old—and now he was dead.

The world was better off without him, Seft thought. “He was a cruel and brutal man,” he said. “I’m glad he’s gone.”

Olf said: “I’m not.”

Cam swallowed what remained of his hare’s ear and said: “Nor me.”

Seft said: “I hated him.” But there was an unexpected tear in his eye. He brushed it away impatiently. “I hated him with good reason.”

Neen said: “But Seft, he was your father.”

That was it. Cog’s malice and violence were not everything. He had filled the space in Seft’s soul marked “father,” and now the space was empty, and would remain so forevermore. A sense of loss took hold of Seft. This is bereavement, he thought. This is grief.

He said: “How did he die?”

“He died working,” said Olf.

“That’s right,” said Cam. “He carried a basket of flints up the climbing pole to the surface, and put them down, then he stood upright and said: ‘I think I need a rest,’ and fell flat on the ground. By the time we got to him he had stopped breathing.”

Seft said: “When was this?”

Cam answered. “About a year ago.”

So, Seft thought, you didn’t come here to give me the news. Something else has happened. He was about to ask when Neen said: “Let’s have something to eat.” The sun was high: it was time for the midday meal. “There’s not a lot,” she said.

Ilian fetched bowls and spoons. Neen doled out small portions from the pot on the fire.

Olf said: “Is this all?”

“Yes,” Seft said firmly.

“It’s not enough for me.”

“If you’re dissatisfied, go and get your dinner somewhere else.”

Neen said: “We have a rationing system here. Each family gets only what it needs. So we’re sharing our rations with you.”

Olf shut up and began to eat. He disposed of his share in a few mouthfuls and looked sulky.