Page 207 of Circle of Days
“Of course. But what do I say about the risk that the farmer army is not yet defeated and may attack again?”
“Tell the truth. You never do anything else.”
“They may walk away.”
“In that case, so be it.”
That was wise, Joia reflected grimly.
Dee added: “But the sun is setting. You need to do it now, while they’re all here.”
“You’re right,” said Joia. “Let’s fetch the climbing pole.”
They placed the pole against the stone they had brought last summer. The sun was now a low, dark-red circle in the west, turning the grey rock to a soft pale pink. When she reached the top and stood up, its rays made her glow.
She did not make her usual triumphant gesture, but they cheered her all the same. She was still a hero.
She began: “I’m tired.”
They laughed and clapped and shouted that they were tired too.
Then she said: “But I’m going back.”
They cheered.
“I’m going back tomorrow. We haven’t finished the job, but I have to give you a warning.”
The noise died down. This was not how Joia usually spoke.
“Yesterday some of our friends were killed. And when we bring the last three stones to the Monument, we may be attacked again, and more of us may be killed. So I must say to you: there will be no disgrace, no shame, for those who decide not to return with me to Stony Valley tomorrow morning. No one will reproach you. Your life is your own, and no one has the right to give it away.”
They remained quiet, subdued.
“Speaking for myself, I want to finish the job. I want to defeat the farmers.”
There was a cheer for that.
“I’m going back—whatever the danger.”
The cheers became louder.
“If you want to finish the job—if you’re willing to risk your life—then come with me.”
They roared their approval, and she raised her voice to a shout. “We leave at sunrise!”
She climbed down. Dee was waiting. “You did it!” she said, amazed. “You told them their lives would be at risk, and they cheered!”
“Good,” said Joia. “But let’s see how many show up in the morning.”
Joia watched them in the dawn light, streaming into the Monument in hundreds, but there were fewer than before. They chewed their salt pork and chatted excitedly, and more and more came in.
When the sun rose, she calculated that she had just over six hundred, slightly more than she needed. She breathed a sigh of relief and led them out of the Monument and across the plain toward the East River. Jara marched by her side.
Seft had roped the now-empty sleds ready for the volunteers to drag them back to Stony Valley. Though very solid and heavy, they were light by comparison with the stones, and people bent to the task cheerfully.
Their mood was good but Joia felt she was pushing them as far as they would go. In future years she would avoid this level of intensity. Never again would she promise to move nine stones in ten days.
They all had weapons. Joia carried a bradawl, a flint tool with a very narrow point, used by carpenters to make holes in wood. However, they walked to Stony Valley without encountering the enemy. The track was in good repair all the way. Once again Joia entertained the hope that the farmers had given up and gone home. Once again she suspected that was wishful thinking.
