Page 195 of Circle of Days
Two days later Ani did what Biddy had done, and approached Farmplace through East Wood so that she would be hidden until she emerged a few steps from Pia’s house. But when she was halfway there she heard the voices of a group of men and she stopped, listening.
She could not make out the words, but she could tell that they were farmers, not woodlanders. The voices seemed casual and amiable. The men were involved in some more or less harmless activity, she guessed.
She crept closer, staying in thick vegetation, until she glimpsed them. She saw one carrying a bow, then another shooting. There was quiet while he aimed, then muted comment afterward, presumably on how accurate he had been.
They were doing archery practice.
She diverted around them, well out of their sight, and continued on her journey. She asked herself why farmers needed shooting practice. It seemed unnecessary. Arrows could bring down the largest deer, but farmers rarely hunted: they were too busy tending their crops.
She reached the southern edge of the wood and stood in the shade, taking in what was in front of her.
A burly guard stood outside Pia’s house. The doorway was firmly blocked by a full-size wicker gate, which was unusual at this time of year: in warm weather everyone used a half gate, which let the air in. Pia’s goats were roaming free, and eating the wheat shoots in the plowed field.
Ani could not see a way to get into the house, so she decided to shout through the walls.
The guard was sitting down and concentrating on something he was doing with his hands. Ani watched for a moment and figured out that he was making string. He was rolling tough, flexible animal sinews on his thigh to twist them together, and he had a basket beside him that probably contained more cleaned and dried sinews. A long, thin branch leaning against the side of the house was the right length and heft for a bow. It lacked a bowstring, and clearly that was what the guard was making.
It seemed the farmers were arming. But what for?
She walked across the field toward the house, stepping softly. The guard continued to focus on his string.
She was almost there when he saw her out of the corner of his eye. He looked up, stared for a moment, then shouted: “Hey, you! Go away!”
She spoke without stopping. “I just want to talk to Pia. You wouldn’t stop me, would you?”
He stood up and strode toward her.
Ani yelled at the top of her voice: “Pia! Are you there? It’s Ani!”
Pia’s voice answered her, muffled by the walls of the house but just audible. “Ani! I’m in here!”
“Are you all right?”
“We’re prisoners.”
The guard came close to Ani but she dodged him and shouted: “Is Olin all right?”
“Yes, but I have to tell you something.”
The guard struck Ani with his club from behind, a hard blow on the head that was agony. She fell to the ground, hurt and dazed. She could hear Pia shouting but could not make out the words. She wanted to get up but she could not summon the energy. She got on her hands and knees and tried to focus her eyes. Pia was shouting something about Joia’s mission, but Ani could not make it out, and the guard started yelling at her.
She felt herself picked up off the ground and carried away across the field. Every step of the guard’s stride hurt her head. “You’ve got to leave Farmplace and never come back,” he said to her. “But I’m not leaving you at the wood. I’m taking you all the way to the Break.”
He stopped and let her down, holding her arm so tightly it hurt, then he marched her across the fields, past farmhouses and stores. The people at work stared at her. Many of them would recognize her. Probably they all knew what had been done to Pia and her family.
Ani took everything in and would reflect on it all when her head stopped hurting.
The guard did not let her go until they were at the northernedge of the Break, where grassland took over from cultivation. He pushed her on and said: “If I ever see you again, I’ll kill you.”
She staggered on until she was out of sight of the farmland, then she lay down on the turf and rested. Slowly the pain in her head receded and she began to think straight.
Pia and her family were all right, though living very uncomfortably. But something dangerous was developing in Farmplace. Target practice, bowstrings, guards: the farmers were getting ready for war. And it was going to start on Midsummer Day.
“I told you so!” Scagga roared. “I said we’d have a war with the farmers one day, and now I’ve been proved right!”
Keff said: “Yes, Scagga, you were right. Now, how do we prepare for it?”
Scagga was enjoying himself. “Luckily for you,” he said, “I’ve got a store full of bows and arrows that I had made after the stampede three midsummers ago. We can arm practically our whole adult population.”
