Page 77 of Circle of Days
“Her name was Ello.”
“Oh, now I understand,” said Han. “That woman has a mean streak.”
“I can believe it.”
“Listen, don’t give up hope. I have another sister, who is a priestess. Her name is Joia.”
Bez brightened. “Do you think she would advise us?”
“She’ll help you if she can, I know it. She’s not like Ello.”
Bez said fervently: “Please take us to her!”
“Come on.”
They stood up. Bez thanked Neen for the stew. He knew that the herders were keen on small courtesies.
Bez and Fell walked with Han through the village and onto the pathway that led back to the Monument. The woodlanders had to hurry to keep up with Han’s long-legged stride. That was how the herders were, always in a rush even when there was no reason.
They reached the priestesses’ village and Han quickly found his sister. Bez immediately liked the look of Joia. She had a lot of curly dark hair and a lovely smile. He felt she must be a generous person.
Han said: “Bez and Fell have something to ask you.”
Bez explained: “Every year in the spring we hunt the deer as they go on their annual migration to the Northwest Hills. It’s important to have prior knowledge of when they’re going to move, so that we can lie in wait. Usually we know by the spring grass on the plain, but that sign is no longer reliable, because of the drought. However, people say that priestesses know all the days of the year. Do you know when the deer will move?”
“I think so,” said Joia.
Bez did not understand that. Either she knew or she did not.
She sensed his bewilderment and explained. “We have a song about all the natural things that happen in a year: the summer berries, the green beetles, the mushrooms, the birds flying south, the spring flowers, the birds’ eggs… I know the deer are in there somewhere.”
Han said impatiently: “Well, can you remember or not?” It was what Bez had wanted to say, but he was too polite.
Joia said: “I’ll have to sing the song. Come with me.”
They followed her into the Monument. Her song began with Midsummer Day, the first day of the year. Although she was small in stature, her voice seemed to carry all around the circle. As she sang, she danced around the Monument, touching the timber uprights, passing through the narrow gaps between them. Bez was rapt. She sang of summer, autumn, and winter. At last,she came to the season he was interested in, spring. He waited in suspense, then she sang:
Forty-eight days from the Spring Halfway, the deer go north to the hills,
Two days sooner if the spring is fine, two days later if the weather’s bad
She stopped there.
Bez said in frustration: “I understood everything except the first word.”
“Forty-eight?”
Han said: “I didn’t get that one either.”
“Forty-eight days is four herder weeks,” Joia said. That satisfied Han but Bez was still in exasperated ignorance. He had the answer and he could not understand it.
“I can simplify it for you,” Joia said to Bez. “Forty-eight days from the Spring Rite is five days from now. The drought is very bad weather, so we add two days, making it seven.”
Bez was still baffled. “We don’t have those number words,” he said. It was maddening. She had the information he needed but they could not communicate.
Joia said patiently: “Shall I show you how to count on your fingers?”
Bez nodded. That was how herders counted, he knew, on their fingers and toes and other parts of their bodies. Woodlanders never seemed to need that skill—but now he did.
