Page 53 of Circle of Days
“He didn’t say his name.”
“What did he look like?”
“Big chap. One eye and a big scar down his face.”
Seft’s heart sank. It was his brother Olf. “What did he say?”
“Just that he was looking for you.”
“Thank you,” Seft said.
The man nodded and went away.
Tem had heard the interchange, and now said: “Bad news.”
“I haven’t seen Olf for ten midsummers and I’d be happy not to see him for another ten.”
Tem nodded. “As I recall, the last words you said to him were that if you ever saw him again you’d take his other eye.”
It was a different Seft who had made the threat. That young man had been terrified but defiant. Seft was no longer frightened of Olf. Big stupid men were not so difficult to deal with when you were surrounded by a large, supportive family and a host of good neighbors.
But what on earth had brought Olf here after all these years?
Seft sighed. He had better find out.
Tem read his mind. “Go on,” he said. “I can handle this. Go home and deal with your brother.”
“Thanks.”
Walking home, Seft reflected on how his life had changed. He had longed to be with Neen, his wish had come true, and they still loved each other after ten midwinters. He had vowed to have a family different from the one he had grown up in, and that wish had come true too. He and Neen had three children, they loved them all, and no one was derided or tormented or beaten.
And he was no longer the mistreated runt of the litter. He was an honored person among the herder folk, someone they consulted about problems and turned to in trouble. Everyone knew him, and he was greeted deferentially by people he hardly knew.
For a long time he had thought that this life would carry on unchanged until the end of his days. But the drought had changed that. The herder community was not invulnerable. It might be wiped out just by the weather. He felt a new burden, the responsibility of protecting the herder folk and their way of life. He admired Ani for her dedication to the welfare of her people.
After the murder of Inka, Ani had devised a rationing system to prevent waste and avoid quarrels about meat. It had been adopted, though not easily. People hated it, but respected individuals such as Keff and Joia and Seft had championed it, and eventually most herders saw the sense of it.
Peace returned, and there were no more fights over food. But if the drought persisted there would be more trouble.
Olf was not a threat to the herder society, but he was a disrupter, and his arrival felt menacing. Seft was not fearful, but wary, as he neared his home.
Olf and Cam were sitting on the ground outside the house, eating hares’ ears. Game was not included in the rationing scheme, and Neen had been given a hare by someone whose house Seft had repaired. The ears had to be boiled all day, then roasted, and even then they were chewy, but Olf and Cam were tearing and chomping like starving men. They looked starved, too. Olf was half the size he used to be, and Cam was as thin as a stick. They were also dirty and their clothes were ragged. Olf had no shoesand Cam’s tunic was ripped. They were in some kind of trouble, clearly. And that would be why they were here.
He looked at Neen, who was standing with her arms folded, looking guardedly at Olf and Cam, as if they were strange dogs who might not be fully housebroken. Recalling the events of ten years ago, he realized that she had never met his brothers. But she knew about the beating he had suffered that day and, over the years, he had told her all about his childhood.
She had asked him once or twice about his mother. He rarely spoke about her, and did not like to remember her death, but when Neen asked he had felt the need to explain. The way he recalled it, his mother had been kind and generous, and when she died there was no one who loved him. When he said this to Neen, his childish grief and bewilderment rolled over him like a stampeding herd and knocked him flat, and he had astonished himself by bursting into tears.
Now Neen was visibly relieved to see Seft. Her body relaxed and she smiled. The older children were staring at the bedraggled newcomers. Ilian, the eldest at nine, seemed to be struggling to come to grips with the idea that such creatures were part of his family. Denno, the older girl, five years old, just gazed at Olf’s disfigured face. Seft decided not to tell the children that he was the one who had done that damage. Olf himself might tell them, though. He had never had a sense of tact and Seft doubted whether he had learned one.
Anina, a year old, was lying on her belly, waving her arms and legs, trying to crawl, oblivious of the strange visitors.
This was not like a family reunion. In other houses Sefthad seen them hugging and backslapping, joking and laughing, bursting with memories and anecdotes. Here the atmosphere was tense, no one saying much, little noise except for the hares’ ears being loudly consumed.
Seft did not sit down. Looking at Olf and Cam, he said: “What has brought you here, after ten midwinters?”
Olf continued chewing while he spoke. “Our father is dead,” he said.
Seft’s immediate reaction was incomprehension. What did that mean? How could it be? Father, dead? Then common sense returned. His father had been old—Seft did not know how old—and now he was dead.
