“I promise.” Then Matty laughed. “How could I? I have nothing to trade. What could I give for a Gaming Machine? A puppy too young to leave its mother? Who’d want that?”
The blind man stirred the chicken that simmered in a broth. “Ah, Matty, you have more than you know. And people will want what you have.”
Matty thought. Seer was correct, of course. He had the thing that troubled him—the power, he thought of it—and perhaps there were those who would want it. Maybe he should find a way to trade it away. But the thought made him nervous. He turned his thoughts to other, less worrying things.
He had a fishing pole, but he needed that and loved it. He had a kite, stored in the loft, and perhaps one day he would trade it for a better kite.
But not tonight. Tonight he would only watch. He had promised the blind man.
Seven
It was early evening, just past supper, and others were hurrying, as Matty was, along the lane to the place where Trade Mart was held. He nodded to neighbors as he passed them, and waved to some he saw farther along. People nodded back or waved in reply, but there was none of the light-hearted banter that was ordinarily part of Village. There was an intentness to everyone, an odd seriousness, and a sense of worry—unusual in Village—pervaded the atmosphere.
No wonder Seer didn’t want me to come, Matty thought as he approached. It doesn’t feel right.
He could hear the noise. A murmur. People whispering to each other. It was not at all like Market Day, with its sounds of laughter, conversation, and commerce: good-natured bargaining, the squealing of pigs, the motherly cluck of hens with their cheeping broods. Tonight it was simply a low hum, a nervous whisper through the crowd.
Matty slipped into a group that had gathered and was standing nearest to the platform, a simple wooden structure like a stage that was used for many occasions when the people came together. The coming meeting to discuss the proposal to close Village would be held here, too, and Leader would stand on the stage to direct things and keep them orderly.
A large wooden roof covered the area so that rain would not prevent a gathering, and in the cold months the enclosing sides would be slid into place. Tonight, though, with the weather still warm, it was open to the evening. A breeze ruffled Matty’s hair. He could smell the scent of the pine grove that bordered the area.
He found a place to stand next to Mentor, hoping that perhaps Jean would join her father, though she was nowhere to be seen. Mentor glanced down and smiled at him. “Matty!” he said. “It’s a surprise to see you here. You’ve never been before.”
“No,” Matty said. “I have nothing to trade.”
The schoolteacher put his arm affectionately over Matty’s shoulders, and Matty noticed for the first time that the teacher had lost weight. “Ah,” Mentor said, “you’d be surprised. Everyone has something to trade.”
“Jean has her flowers,” Matty said, hoping to turn the conversation to Mentor’s daughter. “But she takes them to the market stall. She doesn’t need Trade Mart for that.
“And,” he added, “she already promised the puppy to me. She’d better not trade him away.”
Mentor laughed. “No, the puppy is yours, Matty. And the sooner the better. He’s full of mischief, and he chewed my shoes just this morning.”
For a moment everything seemed as it had always been. The man was warm and cheerful, the same loving teacher and father he had been for years. His arm over Matty’s shoulders was familiar.
But Matty found himself wondering suddenly why Mentor was there. Why, in fact, any of these people were here. None of them had brought any goods to trade. He looked around to confirm what he had noticed. People stood tensely, their arms folded or at their sides. Some of them were murmuring to one another. Matty noticed the young couple who were neighbors down the road from the house he shared with the blind man. They were conversing in low voices, perhaps arguing, and the young wife appeared worried at what her husband was saying. But their arms, too, like Matty’s, like Mentor’s, like everyone’s, were empty. No one had brought anything to trade.
A silence fell and the crowd parted to make way for the tall, dark-haired man who was now striding toward the stage. He was called Trademaster. People said that he had come, already named, as a new one some years before, and had brought with him what he knew about trading from the place he had left. Matty had often seen him around Village and knew that he was in charge of Trade Mart and that he checked on things after, stopping at houses where trades had been made. He had come to Ramon’s after his parents acquired the Gaming Machine. Tonight he carried nothing but a thick book that Matty had never seen before.
Mentor’s arm fell from Matty’s shoulders and the schoolteacher’s attention turned eagerly toward the stage, where Trademaster was now standing.
“Trade Mart begins,” Trademaster called. He had a loud voice with a slight accent, as many in Village had, the traces of their former languages lingering with them. The crowd fell absolutely silent now. Even the slightest whispering ceased. But over on the edge, Matty heard a woman begin to weep. He stood on tiptoe and peered toward her in time to see several people lead her away.
Mentor didn’t even look toward the commotion of the weeping woman. Matty watched him. He noticed suddenly that Mentor’s face looked slightly different, and he could not identify what the difference was. The evening light was dim.
More than that, the teacher, usually so calm, was now tense, alert, and appeared to be waiting for something.
“Who first?” Trademaster called, and while Matty watched, Mentor raised his hand and waved it frantically, like a schoolboy hoping for a reward. “Me! Me!” the schoolteacher called out in a demanding voice, and as Matty watched, Mentor shoved the people standing in front of him aside so that he would be noticed.
Late that night, the blind man listened with a concerned look on his face while Matty described Trade Mart.
“Mentor was first, because he raised his hand so fast. And he completely forgot me, Seer. He had been standing with me and we were talking, just as we always have. Then, when they started, it was as if I didn’t exist. He pushed ahead of everyone and went first.”
“What do you mean, went first? Where did he go?”
“To the stage. He pushed through everyone. He shoved and jostled them aside, Seer. It was so odd. Then he went to the stage when Trademaster called his name.”
The blind man rocked back and forth in his chair. Tonight he had not played music at all. Matty knew he was distressed.
“It used to be different. People just called out. There was a lot of laughter and teasing the time I went.”
“No laughter tonight, Seer. Just silence, as if people were very nervous. It was a little scary.”
“And what happened when Mentor got to the stage?”
Matty thought. It had been a little difficult to see through the crowd. “He just stood there. Then Trademaster asked him something, but it was as if he already knew the answer. And then everyone laughed a bit, as if they did, too, but it wasn’t a having-fun kind of laughter. It was a knowing kind.”
“Could you hear what he asked?”
“I couldn’t hear that first time, but I know what it was because he asked it of everyone who came up. It was the same each time. Just three words. Trade for what? That’s what he asked each time.”