Page 2 of Circle of Days
He heard Olf say: “You come back here.”
Seft ignored him.
“Right, I’m coming after you.”
Seft turned around, walking backward. Olf was marching toward him.
A year ago Seft would have given in and done what Olf said. But since then he had grown bigger and stronger. He was still scared of Olf, but now he would not yield to his fear. He reached back over his shoulder and took a flint out of his basket. “Do you want another stone to carry?” he said.
Olf gave an angry roar and broke into a run.
Seft hurled the flint. He had the powerful arms of a young man who spends all day digging, and he threw hard.
The stone hit Olf’s leg above the knee. He howled with pain, limped on another two paces, and fell to the ground.
Seft said: “The next one gets your head, you dumb bullock.” He turned to his father and said: “Tough enough for you?”
“No more of this nonsense,” Cog said. “Olf and Cam, lift your loads and get moving.”
Cam said: “What about the stones Seft has left on the ground?”
“Pick them up, you stupid fool.”
Olf staggered to his feet. Clearly there was no serious damage, except to his pride. He and Cam collected the flints and put them in their baskets. Then they followed Seft and Cog. Olf was limping.
Cam caught up with Seft. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“It was just a joke,” Seft said.
Cam fell back.
Seft walked on. His heart was beating fast: he had been frightened. But he had come out of it all right—for now.
In the days since the Spring Rite, he had made up his mind to leave his family at the first opportunity. But he had not yet figured out how he would make a living alone. Mining was always a team effort, never a solo job. He had to plan his future. It would be too humiliating to have to go back to the family, dispirited and starving, and beg to be allowed to resume his old role.
All he knew for sure was that he wanted Neen to be part of his plan.
A high earth bank surrounded the Monument. The entrance was a gap in the circle that faced northeast. Some distance away was the cluster of houses belonging to the priestesses. No one went inside the Monument today. The Midsummer Rite would be held tomorrow.
People came to the Monument for the quarterly ceremonies, but the gathering of so many people from near and far was also an opportunity, and they often brought with them things to trade. Some were now setting out their wares. They knew not to go inside the sacred circle. They favored the area near the entrance, and stayed clear of the priestesses’ houses.
There was a rumble of chatter and a sense of excitement in the air as Seft and his family drew closer. People were arriving from all directions. One group met every year at a hilltop village four days’ walk away to the northeast, then followed a well-worn trail, said to be an ancient road, new marchers joining them as they went from village to village, until they arrived, a long column of people and livestock, at the Monument.
Cog stopped next to a couple called Ev and Fee, who made rope out of honeysuckle vines. The miners emptied their baskets, and Cog started to build a pile of the flints.
Cog was interrupted in his work by another miner, Wun, a small man with yellow eyes. Seft had met him before, several times. He was a gregarious type, everybody’s friend, and he loved to chat, especially to other miners. He always knew what was going on. Seft thought he was nosy.
Wun shook hands with Cog, using the informal left-to-right handshake. Right-to-right was formal, indicating respect more than friendship. The affectionate handshake was right-to-left and left-to-right at the same time.
Cog was as taciturn as ever, but Wun seemed not to notice. “All four of you here, I see,” he said. “No one guarding your pit?”
Cog looked suspiciously at him. “Anyone who tries to take it over will get his head broken.”
“Good for you,” said Wun, pretending to endorse Cog’s belligerence. All the while he was taking a good look at the pile of part-finished flints, assessing their quality. “By the way,” he said, “there’s a trader here with a huge collection of antlers. Marvelous.”
The antlers of the red deer, almost as hard as stone and with pointed ends, were among the most important of the miners’ tools, being used as picks. Olf said to Cam: “We should see that.”
They were all looking at Wun, and no one was taking any notice of Seft. Seeing his opportunity, he quietly slipped away, quickly disappearing into the crowd.
