Page 79 of Circle of Days

On the day of the Spring Rite, Joia was happy. The drought was over. Last summer the farmers had had their first decent harvest for four years. The winter had been mild and wet. On the Great Plain, the cows were pregnant and the herd was growing again. The sun was shining.

The gods must be pleased about the giant stone, she thought.

The number of priestesses had doubled. The thrill of rebuilding the Monument was one of the reasons, but people also said that recruits wanted to join because of Joia. She would not have said that herself, but in her heart she knew it was true.

The priestesses spent every afternoon making rope. Each of Joia’s six teams would need its own supply. To relieve the boredom Joia got them practicing songs while they worked.

The Autumn and Midwinter Rites had attracted larger crowds. Everyone wanted to see the stone. Attendance today was greater again, with hundreds more people. Joia was thrilled. Her project was bringing people back.

And the people were different. No one was scrawny or sick. They no longer walked slowly and looked scared. They did not scan the ground for something edible: a bone, a dead bird, a puppy. There was a spring in the step, a tune on the lips, a look of optimism.

It was easy to identify the different communities.

The farmers were always muddy. The miners had abrasions on their hands and arms, from working with sharp stones.

And those from beyond the Great Plain looked subtly different: they had longer or shorter tunics, shoes of a different pattern, odd-looking hairstyles.

Life would have been perfect for Joia if Dee had been with her. But the Midsummer Rite was soon—and it would arrive more quickly if only Joia could stop thinking about her all the time.

Meanwhile, the priestesses performed the Spring Rite at sunrise, with the more disciplined singing and dancing that Joia had introduced.

Today for the first time she encouraged them to wear feathers in their hair.

And she had introduced a rattle—a wooden box with pebbles inside—that Sary shook rhythmically to keep them all in time.

There was one change to the Monument, introduced overnight, probably not even noticed by most spectators: leaning up against the giant stone was a ladder, a slender tree trunk with notches cut into its sides. Seft had made it.

When the ceremony ended, Joia and two novices did not exit the Monument but instead ran to the giant stone.

While the novices held the tree trunk steady, Joia climbed it, using the notches as handholds and footholds.

She had practiced five days ago, as soon as Seft had finished it, but she was still unsteady.

It wobbled, despite the efforts of the novices, and she had one or two anxious moments.

But she pressed on as fast as she could go, and with great relief reached the top.

She stood up and raised her arms, and the astonished crowd roared their appreciation.

She was famous now, and those who did not recognize her guessed who she was.

She revolved slowly, arms still raised, until she had turned full circle.

Then she made calming-down gestures with both hands, and they quickly went quiet.

It amazed her to have such control over so many people.

She repeated what she had said at the Autumn and Midwinter Rites: that the next Midsummer Rite would launch another holy mission.

Again she would be calling for volunteers, fit and strong and ready for adventure.

And this time they would bring nine giant stones to the Monument.

“Tell your friends and neighbors,” she shouted.

“We need many more people than before. And remember: at the end we will be exhausted, but we will be so very proud!”

They cheered and she climbed down the pole. The novices looked at her with shining eyes, thrilled that their leader had been cheered rapturously by the crowd. She hurried out through the entrance, eager to avoid getting waylaid by admirers, and took refuge in the priestesses’ dining hall.

She rested for a while. She was surprised at how tiring it was to be idolized. She let the hysteria die down, then, when she judged that people would be concentrating on trading, she went out again.

Many people shook hands with her in the herder style, holding their hands up and clasping. Right-to-right was formal; right-to-left was casual; right-to-left and left-to-right together was affectionate. Most people offered her the four-handed clasp, even if she had never met them.

She found her mother trying to resolve a dispute—her frequent duty after Rites.

A basket maker wanted a flint, but the flint knapper said the basket was not worth a good sharp flint.

The basket maker was outraged, and wanted to insist on the deal.

Ani was trying to explain to him that the flint knapper was free to refuse if he wished, but the man did not want to hear that.

Joia left her to it and moved on. She ran into Seft. He had spent the winter at Stony Valley, making sleds, and Neen had moved there with the children. They were back for a short visit. Joia would have to go there soon, to make sure everything necessary was being done.

Seft said: “The climbing pole worked all right, then?”

“As you saw,” Joia said. “Thank you for making it.”

“They loved it when you stood on top of the stone. To those who couldn’t see the pole, it seemed as if you had flown up.”

“People love to think they have seen a miracle.”

“You should do the same thing after the Midsummer Rite.”

“Absolutely.”

She spotted Scagga’s sister, Jara, who caught her eye and came over. “My brother will attend the next meeting of the elders,” she said.

Joia tried to say something neutral. “He’s changed his mind, then.”

Jara went on: “I agree with his cautious approach, but I hope you and I may be polite to one another.”

This was disarming. “I hope so too,” Joia said.

“Thank you.”

Jara moved off. Joia would have liked a little time to think about what Jara had said. It had seemed like a peace offering. But people were crowding around Joia to clasp hands, so all her conversations were short.

The flint miner Bax shoved through the crowd and said: “Is Dee here?”

Bax had made Joia foolishly jealous by talking to Dee naked in the river. Now Joia suppressed her resentment and said: “No, but she’s coming at midsummer.”

“She’s a fabulous woman. I’d like to see her again.”

“Me, too.”

“Oh, don’t be coy. She fell for you just as hard as you fell for her.”

Ani had said something similar. Joia was embarrassed to think that her private feelings were so obvious to everyone.

Bax went on: “Lucky you. And lucky her.”

That was such a nice thing to say that Joia hugged Bax.

Then someone else wanted to clasp hands with her and she had to turn aside.

She noticed Shen, Troon’s sidekick. He was here to snoop, of course. He would go back to Farmplace and tell Troon everything he had seen and heard. Troon would be angry about Joia’s popularity and her big plans. Joia gave a mental shrug. So be it.

A few days later, Joia walked to Stony Valley.

The track looked good, to her surprise. It had bedded in, probably because of winter rain and snow, and the branches had sunk into the ground. It would need fresh branches to be added, but a useful base had formed.

She took a group of priestesses with her, including some of the new novices. They all carried coils of rope they had made. They were young, and a day’s walk was no challenge to them, even carrying rope.

As they began the climb into the North Hills, Joia became vividly conscious that she was now near Dee.

“My place is not far from here, to the east,” Dee had said when she and Joia were camped in Stony Valley.

It had not occurred to Joia then to ask for more precise details.

If it was close, Joia might have been able to walk there and back in a day.

Or Dee might come to Stony Valley to check on her grandfather.

It was painfully tantalizing to know she was close but not know where.

The sun was sinking as they arrived at the ridge and looked down into Stony Valley.

Half the trees in the valley had disappeared.

She had noticed en route that some of the flimsy branches-and-earth track had been replaced by embedded logs.

Also, Seft’s team had built decent houses for themselves and their families, replacing the makeshift shelters of last year.

She saw four new sleds in a row and one still being made. Ropes were coiled and stacked.

Her sister, Neen, came out of one of the houses and welcomed her. “Have supper with us tonight and we can chat,” Neen said.

“With pleasure.”

“The food’s almost ready.”

“Let me make sure my priestesses are all right.”

She told the priestesses to build a fire and gave them some beef and a large cooking pot. Chack and Melly were not required to feed the relatively small number here: their specialty was cooking for large crowds.

Joia returned to Neen’s house. The children were there, too, and she was pleased to see her nephew and two nieces. They ate together, then put the children to bed and sat talking until dark.

Joia remembered the night she had fallen asleep holding Dee’s hand. She imagined she was doing the same now, and again fell into a contented slumber.

That spring in the farmer country green shoots appeared in the plowed furrows, and Pia and Duff weeded regularly. They liked to be together in the fields. Pia loved Duff as much as she had loved Han, but in a different way. She had adored Han, but she saw Duff as an equal partner.