Savn shuddered, and became aware that he was now back in the house, standing in a huddle with Mae, Pae, and Polyi, and that the ritual wine-drinking had ended, and he felt a dim sadness that he hadn’t been aware of it—he only knew he had participated from the sting on his tongue, the cool ceramic in his hand, and the faint ring of half-remembered words in his ear. He recalled the end of harvest from all the other years, and the memories blended together as tears threatened to come to his eyes, but even this sadness was far removed from where he drifted, in the center of his emotions but not part of them. “I can’t believe it’s over,” he said. “Hunh,” said Mae, who was drinking while sitting on the cushions below the loft. “It’s over for you, perhaps, but we still have to—”
“None of that, Mae,” said Savn’s father. “The hard part is over, and the children can enjoy themselves today.”
Savn wondered if they’d still be “the children” when they had survived a millennium and had children of their own. Probably. He made a note to himself, for the hun—
dredth time, not to refer to his own children that way after they reached their sixtieth year. Well, seventieth, maybe. On reflection, he had been pretty young at seventy.
After eating, for which they allowed a good, long time, and after the dishes had been cleaned, Savn and Polyi took a slow walk around what had been the garden, jumping from stone to stone and playing sticks and bricks. Polyi chatted about how sore she was, and how she hadn’t even noticed at the time, and about how it was such a shame that by the time harvest was over it was too late to swim, and did he remember the sweater she’d been working on all summer, and did he think the color was right for her. Savn said that this was the first harvest he remembered where he wasn’t sore afterwards, and attributed it to the way he’d spent most of the summer rearranging Master Wag’s house, and that he, too, would enjoy swimming, and did Polyi know a girl named Lova and what did she think of her.
It was, in all, one of the most pleasant mornings Savn had had since summer, and he felt sad that he wasn’t really there to enjoy it.
He heard Polyi suggesting that they go to Tern’s house early; she had heard that a minstrel had arrived last night. Savn heard himself agreeing. Tern’s house? Yes, there will be a minstrel. And Vlad will be there, and perhaps Coral and Tuk and Lan. Why aren’t I afraid?
Mae and Pae didn’t mind their leaving early.
What had Pae said? Something about having done well this year. Savn put the big kettle over the fire to prepare bath water for himself and Polyi, then stood in the door, looking out over the stubble of the harvested fields, and a little later he realized that he was now wearing clean clothes, and his hair smelled of soap. Polyi was saying that she was ready to go, and asking if Savn was.
He shook his head, as if he could clear it of whatever strange mood had fallen upon him, then nodded to Polyi. She looked slightly puzzled, then seemed to forget about it as they set off for town.
The morning was still bright around them, the air cool with the promise of autumn. The red, yellow, and gold of the leaves, already starting to fall, exploded all about them as they walked. Polyi sang “Dung-Foot Peasant,” and didn’t seem to notice that Savn wasn’t joining in.
They passed the place where, as near as he could guess, he had been attacked the night before by his best friends. Why aren’t I afraid?
As they came into town, Savn noticed Bless on the other side of the street, along with his apprentice, Ori. Ori was looking at them, but then he looked away and said something to Bless, who glanced at them quickly, took Ori by the shoulder, and turned him in the other direction while saying something in his ear. Why don’t I care?
Polyi had not noticed them, which seemed odd, too; Polyi, like all the other girls in town, always noticed Ori.
Maybe it’s a disease, and I’ve given it to Mae and Pae and Polyi. I could ask Master Wag. Only I won’t. Perhaps I
should ask Bless, but I don’t think he wants to talk to me.
Tern’s house was empty except for Tern and Vlad, the one behind his counter, the other at the far end of the room. The minstrel was not in sight. Savn looked at the Easterner, and found that he had begun to tremble.
“What is it, Savn?” said Polyi.
So, she’s noticing something, he thought. “Nothing. I don’t feel well.”
“Here, sit down.”
“Yes.”
Vlad was not looking at him.
He realized, and wondered why it had taken him so long, that the Easterner had, somehow, been responsible for the two jhereg who had chased Coral, Lan, and Tuk away last night. Yes. It had really happened. They were going to beat him—had actually hit him—and then there was the flapping, and the small, horrible shapes, wings dark in the darkness. It had been real. It had all been real. And, somehow, the Easterner had done it. Polyi went to fetch ale for him and watered wine for herself while Savn sat and trembled. To have such power ...
He glanced at Vlad, but the Easterner was sitting back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as if deep in thought. Savn’s intention had been to ignore Vlad; and if Vlad had even looked at him, he would have been able to do it. But it was as if Vlad, by ignoring him, was saying, “I understand that you don’t want to be seen with me, and it’s all right.” And that was something Savn would hate.
Polyi came back and set a glass down in front of him. He stood up and said, “I’ll be back in a minute,” and walked over to Vlad’s table. The Easterner glanced up at him, then looked away as if he didn’t recognize him.
Savn hesitated, then sat down.
Vlad looked at him again. “Good morning,” he said. “I didn’t expect you so soon.”
“Harvest is done,” said Savn. “We finished early.”
“Congratulations. I suppose there will be a festival before too long.”
“Yes.”
“You’ll enjoy that, I think.”
“Yes.”
Vlad looked at him closely, his eyes narrow. “What is it?” he said.
“Nothing.”
“Crap. What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. I feel funny.”
“Funny, how?”
“Disconnected.”
“Mram. How long have you had this feeling?”
Savn suddenly wanted to laugh, because Vlad was sounding like Master Wag. He did not laugh, however. He said, “I guess since this morning. No, last night, I suppose.”
Vlad nodded, slowly, still watching Savn’s face. “It’ll pass,” he said. “I know the feeling. Believe me, I know the feeling.”
Savn whispered, “Why did you do it?”
“I beg your pardon?”
He cleared his throat. “Why did they do it?”
“Do what?” said Vlad.
Savn tried to find some indication in the Easterner’s face that he knew what Savn was talking about, but Vlad seemed to be frankly inquiring. “My friends tried to be beat me last night.”
“Oh,” said Vlad. “I’m sorry.”
“But why?”
“I don’t know,” said Vlad. “Fear, perhaps.”
“Of me?”
“Of me.”
“Oh.” Savn could feel Vlad’s eyes on him. He looked back, then said, “What did you do?”
“I?” said Vlad. “Nothing.”
“But I would have been beaten if—”
“If something happened that prevented a beating, consider yourself lucky and don’t ask any questions.”
Savn watched him for a while. “You’ve been beaten before, haven’t you? I mean, when you were younger.”
“Oh, yes.”
“Because you were an Easterner?”
“Mostly.”
Savn felt himself smiling a little. “Well, you survived; I suppose I will too.”