Page 68 of Circle of Days

She said: “It will be hard work. Only healthy and strong people should volunteer. No one lazy. No one who would prefer to doze in the sun. No one who gives up easily. Only people with enthusiasm and a love of adventure!”

Now some of them were putting their hands up.

“Are you with me?”

A cheer went up.

“Spend today trading. Feast with us this evening, and hear the poets. Do whatever you like tonight. And if you are brave and strong, come here to the Monument tomorrow at dawn. Will you come?”

There was a shout of assent.

“Don’t be late!” she cried. “We leave at sunrise!”

She clambered down from the lintel. “What do you think?” she said to Sary.

Sary was flushed and breathless. “They love you!” she said.

“But will they still love me tomorrow?”

“Oh, yes,” Sary said, in the tone of one who makes a vow.

“I hope you’re right,” said Joia.

Outside the Monument, as Ani was watching the trading begin, she was accosted by Scagga. His face was red and his eyes were bulging. He was so indignant that he spat saliva as he spoke. In an angry, challenging tone he said: “How many volunteers do you expect Joia to take to the North Hills?”

Several people nearby looked up to see what the fuss was.

Ani said quietly: “Really, Scagga, you can’t speak to me like that. I won’t be bullied and interrogated by you or anyone else. Where are your manners? Speak to me politely, or don’t speak to me at all.”

“Look here—”

“What do you normally say when you meet someone?”

He looked impatient and irritated, but he said: “May the Sun God smile on you.”

“And on you, Scagga. Now tell me, calmly, what’s on your mind.”

“The number of people Joia is going to take on this mad mission of hers.”

“If this is business for the elders, there should be more than two of us.” Ani was not going to let Scagga pick people off one by one.

“Let’s bring Keff in, at least.” Keff was not far away, talking to an arrow maker.

His belly was growing again, Ani thought; a sign of the improved weather this summer. She caught his eye and waved him over.

Keff said: “What is it?”

Scagga said to him: “When we elders discussed Joia’s scheme, how many volunteers did you imagine she would take to the North Hills?”

“I’m not sure I had a definite idea,” Keff said. “Why do you ask?”

“Come on, you must have had a notion.” Scagga showed both hands, pointed to both feet, and showed both hands again. “That many?”

“More,” said Keff.

“Twice that many?”

“Perhaps.”

“Three times?”

“At most.”

“And having seen the reaction to her speech this morning, how many of those cheering youngsters will she take away from their work?”

“I don’t know,” said Keff. “Nor do you.”

“Precisely,” Scagga said triumphantly. “We don’t know. And that’s why I think we should set a limit. Otherwise it’s out of control.”

Keff said: “That’s sensible, I suppose.”

Ani’s heart sank. Joia would be furious. And who could tell how many people would be needed to move a giant stone?

She said: “What limit do you suggest?”

Scagga again indicated both hands, both feet, and both hands again, and said: “Keff envisaged three times that number, so that should be our limit.”

“Very well,” Ani said reluctantly.

“I’ll leave you to tell Joia,” Scagga said to Ani.

“No, you won’t,” Ani said firmly. “It’s your idea—you tell her.”

Scagga pretended not to care. “All right, then,” he said. “I’ll tell her.”

Some days earlier, Joia had acquired an entire pig, slaughtered and salted, ostensibly for the priestesses.

Salt was a luxury, produced in small quantities by seaside dwellers who boiled sea water in giant pans until the water disappeared, leaving only the salt.

Salt pork was a treat. Joia had used all her charm to get this boon.

Chack and Melly and their family were frantically busy preparing the feast—thin Chack humping great carcasses, fat Melly boiling nettles and dandelion leaves with wild garlic—and Joia, wanting their goodwill because she needed them to feed her volunteers on the mission, did not wish to trouble them on their busiest day of the year, so she had built a roasting frame at the back of the houses.

At the end of the day, she and Sary spitted the pig.

Cooking slowly inside its skin, it would roast all night, turned by a couple of novices.

The fire would deter owls and other creatures from stealing the pork.

Joia had just lit the fire when Scagga appeared.

She expected him to demand to know how come she had a whole salted pig, but he was too focused on what he had to say to notice what she was cooking. He had a gratified look, as if he had been proved right about something. He said: “You’ve been limited.”

With weary patience she said: “What now, Scagga?”

“The elders never gave you permission to take an unrestricted number of volunteers away from their work.”

“As far as I know, the elders never specified numbers.” Anyway, they struggled to count above thirty, she thought, but she did not say it.

“Well, they have specified numbers now.” He made the sign for thirty, then said: “That many, three times.”

Ninety, she thought. Nowhere near enough.

She was about to protest when she had second thoughts.

Perhaps the time for opposition would be tomorrow morning, when—all being well—the eager volunteers would have gathered.

Scagga would then have to try to stop people doing what they wanted to do, and that would be extremely difficult.

How would he decide which hundred people had to stay home, and—more importantly—how would he enforce his decision?

There was nothing to be gained by protesting now. However, she did not want to look too compliant—that would make him suspicious. So she said: “That may not be enough.”

“You should have thought of that before.”

“You say the elders agreed to this?”

“Yes.”

“Including my mother?”

“Yes.”

Under protest, I expect, Joia thought. “I’ll speak to her,” she said.

“She won’t change her mind. Keff backed me against her.”

“We’ll see.” She turned away and went into the dining hall.

She hoped she had misdirected him. He was now expecting a new row among the elders. He would not be prepared for mass resistance tomorrow morning.

After deploying two novices to mind the pig, she went in search of Seft, to tell him what was going on.

She found him just outside Riverbend, on the riverside path.

The track he had built had been disarranged.

Seft was picking up scattered branches and putting them back in place.

“This isn’t wanton damage,” he said to Joia.

“It’s just the effect of many people walking on the track. ”

Joia said: “What can we do?”

Seft scratched his dark beard. “We’ll have to maintain it constantly. It will be less of a problem farther north, where there are fewer people. When the stone is on the move, we’ll have a team going ahead to do last-minute repairs.”

“That sounds manageable. I’m not so sure about Scagga’s latest dodge.”

“What’s he done?”

“Persuaded the elders to limit the number of volunteers we take.” She had taught Seft the priestess way of counting, so she could discuss high numbers with him. “They have ordered us not to take more than ninety. You and I decided we needed twice that number.”

“Can we change their minds?”

“I think we should just ignore them.”

Seft frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Say nothing, and let them try to enforce their rule tomorrow, when there are a couple of hundred eager volunteers raring to go.”

Seft grinned, nodding, and said: “That’s just brilliant.”