Page 4 of Circle of Days
She was being careful not to give things away, Seft thought with frustration. All the same he pressed on. “I really want to know her better. I think she’s… I don’t know how to describe her. Adorable.”
“You should say these things to her, not me.” Joia smiled to soften the reprimand.
He kept trying. “But will she be glad to hear them?”
“I think she’ll be glad to see you, but I can’t say more than that. She will speak for herself.”
Seft was two midsummers older than Joia, but he could not persuade her to confide in him. She was a strong character, he realized. He said helplessly: “I just don’t know if Neen feels the way I do.”
“Ask her, and you’ll find out,” Joia said, and Seft heard a touch of impatience in her tone. “What have you got to lose?”
“One more question,” he said. “Is there someone else she likes?”
“Well…”
“So there is.”
“He likes her, for sure. Whether she likes him, I couldn’t say.” Joia sniffed the air. “Smell that.”
“Roasting meat.” His mouth watered.
“Follow your nose and you’ll find Neen.”
“Thank you for your kind advice.”
“Good luck.” She turned and headed back.
He walked on. The two sisters were different, he reflected. Joia was brisk and bossy, Neen was wise and kind. Both were attractive, but the one he loved was Neen.
The smell of meat grew stronger and he came to the open space where several oxen were being roasted on spits. The feast would not be held until tomorrow evening, but he guessed it took a long time to cook something so big. No doubt the smaller beasts, the sheep and pigs, would be roasted tomorrow.
Twenty or so men, women, and children were milling about, tending the fires and turning the spits. After a moment Seftspotted Neen, sitting cross-legged on the ground, head bent, intent on some task.
She looked different from his memory of her, but even lovelier. She was tanned by the summer sun, and her dark hair now had lighter streaks. She frowned over her work, and her frown was impossibly charming.
She was using a flint scraper to clean the inside of a hide, doubtless the skin of one of the beasts now being cooked. Seft recalled that her mother was a leather tanner. The force of her concentration fascinated him and moved him almost to tears.
All the same, he was going to interrupt her.
He crossed the open space, his tension mounting with each step. Why am I worried? he asked himself. I should be happy. And I am happy. But also terrified.
He stopped in front of her, smiling. It took a few moments for her to tear her gaze away from the hide. Then she raised her head and saw him, and over her face there spread a smile so lovely that his heart seemed to stop.
After a moment she said: “It’s you.”
“Yes,” he said happily. “Me.”
She put down the scraper and the hide, then stood up. “I’ll finish this later,” she said. Taking Seft’s arm, and kicking a pig out of the way, she said: “Let’s go somewhere quieter.”
They walked west, away from the river. The ground sloped up, as it usually did near rivers. He wanted to talk to her, but he did not know how to begin. After some thought, he said: “I’m very glad to see you again.”
She smiled. “I feel the same.”
That was a good start, he thought.
They came to a strange edifice, concentric rings of tree trunks. It was obviously a holy place. They walked around the circle. “People come here just to be quiet and reflect,” Neen said. “Or to talk, like us. And the elders meet here.”
“I remember you said your mother was an elder.”
