Page 37 of Circle of Days
“Perhaps,” said Seft, and he picked up his bowl again.
Night fell, the birds went quiet, and everyone lay down. Seft took from his bag a long-bladed flint knife, well sharpened. After a while the moon rose silently.
Seft thought about Neen. He had a recurring daydream about how he would reunite with her. His departure had been so ignominious that he was determined to return with dignity, as an independent young man with a role to play and the ability to make his own living and one day feed his children. He would be able to do that soon.
He wished he could have got a message to Neen, but there was no way. Most people traveled only for the quarterly Rites. Occasional itinerants arrived, singing poems or offering to trade something small, bone jewelry or magic potions, but they were not trustworthy messengers, and anyway Seft had not seen one.
So Neen must be in the dark about his intentions. He hoped she might wait awhile for him. But she probably saw Enwood every day. How long would it be before she gave up on the vanished Seft?
The men around him fell asleep, but Seft felt sleep was dangerous. His family might not be far away. He planned to stay awake all night.
Tem stayed awake beside him for a long time, and they talked intermittently, but eventually Tem’s breathing became regular, and Seft was the only one left awake. He clutched the flint knife in his right hand. He listened to the sounds of the night, the scurry of small creatures and the melancholy moan of the owl as it hunted them. He strained his hearing for human footsteps on the grass, and he wished he had a dog.
Against his will, he fell asleep.
He was awakened by something with a sharp point digging into his neck. He opened his eyes to see his brother Olf standing over him, pressing an antler into his throat. His heart thudded like a drum.
Olf whispered: “Make a noise and I’ll kill you.”
Seft tried to calm his panic and think. Would Olf really kill him? Seft would be no use to his father dead. But this was about pride as much as anything else. Cog could not bear to be disobeyed. Yes, he thought, if I cry out now there is at least a chance that Olf will stick that antler point into my soft throat and I will bleed to death.
So he lay still and silent. But he felt the lump of the flint knife under his thigh, where it had slipped out of his hand during sleep. He would not go quietly. He would not lightly abandon the chance of happiness that had so recently come his way. He might die; others might too.
Olf seemed unsure what to do next. He had not planned his next move in advance, which was typical of him. There was a pause while he figured it out. Then, awkwardly, he contrived to get off Seft without withdrawing the weapon. “Now get up,” he whispered.
“All right,” Seft murmured. “All right.”
Tem grunted and turned over, but did not wake.
Seft rolled slightly right, his leg hiding the knife. He got up on one knee, which forced Olf to retreat a few inches. He slid his hand along the ground to the knife.
He would have only one chance.
“I’m coming,” he said, grasping the knife.
He rose to his feet in a fast fluid motion. He used his left armto knock Olf’s antler aside while lifting his right hand high. Then he brought the knife down hard and slashed Olf’s face.
He felt the flint connect. There was a sickening sensation as it cut through flesh to bone. Pressing down hard, he drew the blade across Olf’s face. He saw fluid burst from Olf’s left eyeball. Blood from Olf’s cheek spurted over his hand.
Olf screamed.
Cog emerged from the darkness, trailed by Cam. Wun’s men, abruptly awakened, got to their feet.
Olf staggered around blindly, hands to his face, yelling: “My eye! My eye!”
Seft knew he should be horrified by what he had done, but in fact he felt exultant.
Cam screamed at Seft: “What have you done?”
Wun’s voice said loudly: “No need for violence, calm down, everyone.”
Cog shouted at him: “Look what this evil boy has done!”
Wun shouted: “You’re to blame, Cog, you fool. You come slinking into our camp like a thief in the night—what do you expect? A polite welcome? You’re lucky you weren’t killed.”
Cog turned on Seft. “You’ve half blinded your brother!”
Seft found in himself a streak of reckless aggression. “Let me tell you something, Father,” he said. “If I ever see Olf again, I’ll take his other eye.”
