Page 133 of Circle of Days
Ani said: “Let me go and investigate.” Her heart sank at the thought of another long walk across the Great Plain, but at least it would force Scagga to postpone violence for a few days. “I’ll see if I can learn where the tribe is hiding.”
Scagga looked ready to argue, but his sister said reasonably: “That makes sense. Before we send an army, we should find out where the enemy is.”
Ani found the sight of the burned wood horrific. Nothing green remained. The ground was covered with a layer of grey ash as far as the eye could see. A few trees stood still, bare of leaves, their trunks and branches blackened and lifeless, ghostly plants growing out of a dead landscape.
But farmers were at work, digging the ground, turning the earth over to bury the ash. Their furrows ran east to west, parallel with South River, so that the rain—if it ever rained again—would be retained in the field instead of running down the slope and into the river. Little clouds of ash lifted and sank as the shovels worked. The land would be green again next summer, but with regular shoots of growing wheat instead of the fecund jungle of wild woodland.
Troon had enlarged his territory, Ani thought. At a stroke he had added a huge area to his domain. She wondered if he would do the same to East Wood one day.
Yana and Pia were not there. Presumably Troon had not favoredthem with an allocation of the new lands. Ani found them in one of their old fields, Pia carrying baby Olin strapped to her back. Both women were thin but not unhealthy.
They sat on the ground to talk. Ani said: “I’m here because someone is stealing our cattle.”
“We know,” said Pia. “Zad thought it might be the farmers. He came here, and Troon let him look everywhere for beef, cow hides, and cow bones. He didn’t find any.”
Ani nodded. She was not surprised that the farmers were innocent. “So who do you think it is?”
“Oh, Bez, obviously,” said Yana. “There’s really no other possibility.”
“And where is Bez? In the remnant of West Wood?”
“No. It’s too small for a whole tribe.”
“Then where?”
“We don’t know,” said Yana. “No one knows.”
Ani walked west along the bank of the river until she came to the small surviving area of woodland. She walked all around it and satisfied herself that it was not big enough to hide a tribe, no matter how clever they might be at concealing themselves.
She then went into the wood and found a small settlement, just two houses. A handful of woodlanders were sitting around while a spitted joint of meat roasted over a fire.
It smelled like beef.
An old woman was sitting by the fire, turning the spit occasionally with a veined brown hand. Ani sat beside her. Some of the children came closer to stare at the stranger with frankcuriosity. Ani noticed that they were wearing new-looking leather tunics.
She said to the old woman: “I am Ani.”
“I know you,” said the woman.
She spoke the herder language. That was helpful.
“You had a son called Han,” the woman added.
“He’s dead now.”
“I know. Stam killed him. Stam killed Fell, too.”
“And now Stam is dead.”
“The balance was restored.” The woman nodded in a satisfied way.
Everyone suspected that the woodlanders had killed Stam for murdering Fell, but no one could be sure. And even this woman’s statement was enigmatic: a balance had been restored, but by whom? She was not saying.
Instead she said: “I am Naro.”
Ani said: “You’re cooking beef.”
“Venison,” said Naro firmly.
