Page 38 of Circle of Days
Cog was shocked. “You’ve turned into a monster.”
“I’ve toughened up,” said Seft. “Just like you told me to.”
Inka was instructing Joia and another novice. Joia had met Inka before, at the revel, when she had been holding hands with Vee’s mother, Kae. She was knowledgeable and clever, and Joia soaked up the information she had to offer.
The other novice, Sary, was older than Joia by a couple of midsummers, but she was small and thin and timid. Because of her nervousness she had difficulty understanding and remembering the lessons, so Joia helped her, despite occasionally becoming impatient with her.
Ani had argued stubbornly against Joia’s joining the priestesshood. Neen had supported her, saying she did not want to lose her sister. But Joia would not give in, and in the end Ani had said: “You’re going to hate it, but perhaps it’s best you find that out for yourself. Go ahead, become a novice. You’ll be back home in two weeks.”
Ani had been wrong. Joia was happy.
The lessons were the best part. She had already learned how to name the numbers: you did not have to remember them all, because there was a logical system for making them up. The dance steps, which always involved counting, were not difficult for Joia, and she knew them all already. The songs were more challenging. There were so many of them, and the priestesses never sang the same song two days running. As Soo had told her, on that fateful day when she had spied on the sunrise ceremony, the songs were a store of learning, the treasure of the people of the Great Plain. One day Joia would be able to remember all the words, and then she would know as much as anyone in the world.
For today’s lesson they were inside the Monument, sitting on the grass in front of the wooden arch within which the sunrose on Midsummer Day. “Look at the upright on the right-hand side,” Inka said. “When we dance on the day after midsummer, we place two counters at the foot of that upright, to show that it is the second day of the week.”
The counters were the pottery discs that Soo had shown Joia.
Sary came out of her shell far enough to say: “We must have a lot of counters, for all the days of the year.”
Inka was always patient with Sary. “Not really, though I can see why you might think that,” she said gently. “We add a counter every day until we have twelve, and we know that is the last day of the week. On the following day we pick up all the counters and move to the second upright, where we put one down.”
Joia said: “And there are thirty uprights.”
“Yes, so how many days are there in thirty weeks?”
Joia knew the names of the numbers, but she still could not make difficult calculations. She was humbled. “I don’t know, sorry.”
“Don’t worry, it’s difficult. The answer is three hundred and sixty. But in a year there are five more days.”
Joia guessed what Inka was going to say next. In the middle of the Monument, surrounded by the thirty uprights with their crossbars, were five stand-alone arches—paired uprights with crossbars but not joined together—forming an incomplete oval shape. They must represent the five extra days.
Inka went on to say exactly that.
“And finally,” she said, “using this method, we find that after a few years the midsummer sunrise seems to start a little late.”
“But it can’t!” Joia protested.
“You’re right. The sun’s course never alters from year to year.Rather, there’s a flaw in our calculations. The true number of days in a year is three hundred and sixty-five and a quarter.”
Joia could not understand how there could be a quarter of a day.
Inka went on: “So once in every four years we add an extra day. And then the midsummer sun always rises when we expect it to.”
Joia was amazed and thrilled. The priestesses really understood what was happening in the sky. It seemed miraculous.
Inka said: “Now it’s dinnertime. And try to remember everything I’ve told you, so that you can explain it back to me tomorrow.”
Joia realized that it was midday and she was hungry. She and Sary headed for the building that was the dining hall by day and a dormitory at night. Sary said fearfully: “I can’t remember all that. It’s so difficult. She’s going to be angry with me tomorrow.”
“Let’s go over it early in the morning,” Joia suggested. “Perhaps we can help each other remember.”
Outside the dining hall Joia saw her older sister, Neen, leaning against the wall, obviously waiting to see her. “Can I talk to you?” Neen said.
“Is something wrong?”
“In a way, yes.”
Sary went inside. Joia took Neen’s arm and they walked around the outside of the earth bank. The plain stretched away into the hazy distance. Joia said: “What’s happened?”
