Page 86 of Circle of Days
“Did she? How strange!”
“Not really. It was after the farmers plowed up the Break. Some elders came hoping to reason with Troon.”
“A doomed enterprise.”
“So it was.”
“Will you deliver my message?” She wanted confirmation.
“Yes.”
“Thank you. It means such a lot to me.”
“What should I say?”
She thought for a few moments, then decided that simplicity was best. “Please tell him I love him.”
Han could hardly wait for Pia to arrive for the Midsummer Rite. Herding cattle on the plain between Riverbend and the Monument, he kept looking west, hoping to see her approaching. He was so distracted that the other herders had to keep an eye on him, and alert him to cows that were wandering away. A wolf cub, young and foolish, probably having lost its mother, crept into the herd, and Han knew nothing about it until a fellow herder shot it with an arrow.
He talked about Pia all the time. His mother, Ani, listened tolerantly. His sister Neen told him to shut up. His dog, Thunder, was fascinated by everything he said.
Most visitors arrived on the day before the Rite. He spent much of that day helping his mother, carrying the tanned hides of sheep and cattle to the area outside the Monument where people sat to trade. He expected Pia at any moment, probably bringing some of her mother’s goat’s-milk cheese.
It was going to be a quiet Midsummer Day. Most people wanted nothing but food, and would not trade what they had. But there were some things they could hardly do without: sharp flint tools, for example, to slaughter livestock and butcher the meat.
As the sun went down that afternoon, Han began to fear that she would not come. Perhaps she had lost interest in him. Shemight have fallen for another man. There was a young farmer called Duff who was obviously keen on her. There might be others. A girl could change her mind.
Some farmers turned up. He recognized Troon, the Big Man, and his son, Stam, who—unlike his father—really was big. And there was a slimy character called Shen, who had been here a few days back, asking about Yaran. Han was fairly sure Shen had been looking for Mo, a farmer woman who had come to live with Yaran; and sure enough Mo had vanished.
The herders had talked a lot about the incident. No one had witnessed it. The kidnappers must have been very silent, and must have come in the middle of the night. Yaran said he had been fast asleep when someone had stuffed a gag into his mouth so that he could not cry out, then had tied his hands. At the same time Mo, too, had been silenced before she was awake. Then the intruders had carried Mo off.
Scagga had wanted to take an armed party to Farmplace and get Mo back. Others had argued that she was a farmer woman and they should not get involved. Then Yaran had said he was not the fighting type and would not join a rescue party, and that had pretty much settled the issue.
By sundown Han felt sure Pia was not coming. No farmer women were here, just men, which was unusual. Pia’s absence might not be a personal decision of her own but a ban imposed on all women. Just the same, Han feared the worst.
His mother thought there had been some kind of clampdown. “Troon may have ordered them to stay at home so that they can’t fall in love with herder men.”
Han was not soothed by the possibility that Pia had been kept at home against her will. The thought made him even more agitated.
On the following morning Pia was not at the sunrise ceremony. That settled it. She was not coming.
When the ritual was over, Han stood by Ani’s pile of hides while she patrolled with the elders. He knew what his mother needed in exchange for her hides: a new cooking pot, a basket, and some bone needles. He enjoyed trading, but not today. He would normally chat about the virtues of particular hides, praising a thick one because it would be durable and a thin one because it was soft. He enjoyed talking to people who had come from beyond the plain. He liked the coastal people from the south, who offered costly salt, which—they told him—they got by boiling seawater until the water was gone and a crust of salt was left in the bowl.
He had no inclination for any of that now. He was just unhappy.
A man a little older than himself approached. He seemed familiar, but almost everyone in the herder community was at least vaguely familiar. The man looked at Han’s feet and said: “You’re Han.”
“Yes. Would you like to trade for a hide?” Han tried to summon up some enthusiasm. “My mother tans them and she does it thoroughly. No weak spots—”
“No,” the man interrupted. “I have a message for you.”
Han’s hopes rose immediately. “Who from?”
“My name is Zad. I’m a herder from the far western end of the plain—”
“Who is the message from?”
The man grinned appealingly and said: “Someone called Pia.”
