“And was the answer the same from everyone?”
Matty shook his head, then remembered that he had to reply aloud. “No,” he said. “It was different.”
“Could you hear Mentor’s reply?”
“Yes. It made everyone laugh in that odd way. Mentor said, ‘Same as before.’”
The blind man frowned. “Did you get a feel for what that meant?”
“I think so, because everyone looked at Stocktender’s widow, and she blushed. She was near me, so I could see it. Her friends poked at her, teasing, and I heard her say, ‘He needs a few more trades first.’”
“Then what happened?”
Matty tried to remember the sequence of things. “Trademaster seemed to say yes, or at least to nod his head, and then he opened his book and wrote it in.”
“I’d like to see that book,” the blind man said, and then, laughing at himself, added, “or have you see it, and read it to me.
“What came next?”
“Mentor stood there. He seemed relieved that Trademaster had written something down for him.”
“How could you tell?”
“He smiled and seemed less nervous.”
“Then what?”
“Then everyone got very silent and Trademaster asked, ‘Trade away what?’”
The blind man thought. “Another three words. Was it the same for each? The same ‘Trade for what?’ and then ‘Trade away what?’”
“Yes. But each one said the answer to the first quite loudly, the way Mentor did, but they whispered the answer to the second, so no one could hear.”
“So it became public, what they were trading for . . .”
“Yes, and sometimes the crowd called out in a scornful way. They jeered. I think that’s the right word.”
“And he wrote each down?”
“No. Ramon’s mother went up, and when Trademaster asked, ‘Trade for what?’ she said, ‘Fur jacket.’ But Trademaster said no.”
“Did he give a reason for the no?”
“He said she got a Gaming Machine already. Maybe another time, he said. Keep trying, he told her.”
The blind man stirred restlessly in his chair. “Make us some tea, Matty, would you?”
Matty did so, going to the woodstove where the iron kettle was already simmering. He poured the water over tea leaves in two thick mugs and gave one to Seer.
“Tell me again the second three-word thing,” the blind man said after he had taken a sip.
Matty repeated it. “‘Trade away what?’” He tried to make his voice loud and important, as Trademaster’s had been. He tried to imitate the slight accent.
“But you couldn’t hear any of the answers that people gave, is that right?”
“That’s right. They whispered, and he wrote the whispers in his book.”
Matty straightened in his chair with a sudden idea. “How about if I steal the book and read you what it says?”
“Matty, Matty . . .”
“Sorry,” Matty replied immediately. Stealing had been so much a part of his previous existence that he sometimes still, even after years, forgot that it was not acceptable behavior in Village.
“Well,” said the blind man after they had sipped their tea in silence for a moment, “I wish I could figure out what things people are trading away. You say they came empty-handed. Yet each one whispered something that was written down.”
“Except for Ramon’s mother,” Matty reminded him. “Trademaster said no to her. But others got their trades. Mentor got his.”
“But we don’t know what.”
“No. ‘Same as before,’ he asked for.”
“Tell me this, Matty. When Mentor left the Trade Mart, he hadn’t been given anything, had he? He wasn’t carrying anything?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Was anyone given anything to take away?”
“Some were told delivery times. Someone got a Gaming Machine.
“I’d really like a Gaming Machine, Seer,” Matty added, though he knew it was hopeless.
But the blind man paid no attention to that. “One more question for you, Matty. Think hard about this.”
“All right.” Matty prepared himself to think hard.
“Try to remember if people looked different when it was over. Not everyone, but those who had made trades.”
Matty sighed. It had been crowded, and long, and he had begun to be uncomfortable and tired by the time it ended. He had seen Ramon and waved, but Ramon was standing with his mother, who was angry at having been turned down by Trademaster. Ramon hadn’t waved back.
He had looked for Jean, but she wasn’t there.
“I can’t remember. I wasn’t paying attention by the end.”
“What about the person who got a Gaming Machine? You told me someone did. Who was it?”
“That woman who lives over near the marketplace. You know the one? Her husband walks hunched over because he has a twisted back. He was with her but he didn’t go up for a trade.”
“Yes, I know who you mean. They’re a nice family,” the blind man said. “So she traded for a Gaming Machine. Did you see her when she was leaving?”
“I think so. She was with some other women and they were laughing as they walked away.”
“I thought you said she was with her husband.”
“She was, but he walked behind.”
“How did she seem?”
“Happy, because she got a Gaming Machine. She was telling her friends that they could come play with it.”
“But anything else? Was there anything else about her that you remember, from after the trade, not before?”
Matty shrugged. He was beginning to be bored by the questioning. He was thinking about Jean, and that he might go to see her in the morning. Maybe his puppy would be ready. At least the puppy would be an excuse for a visit. It was healthy now, and growing fast, with big feet and ears; recently he had watched, laughing, when the mother dog had growled at it because it was nipping at her own ears in play.
Thinking of the puppy’s behavior reminded Matty of something.
“Something was different,” he said. “She’s a nice woman, the one who got the Gaming Machine.”
“Yes, she is. Gentle. Cheerful. Very loving to her husband.”
“Well,” said Matty slowly, “when she was leaving, walking and talking with the other women, and her husband behind trying to keep up, she whirled around suddenly and scolded him for being slow.”
“Slow? But he’s all twisted. He can’t walk any other way,” the blind man said in surprise.
“I know. But she made a sneering face at him and she imitated his way of walking. She made fun of him. It was only for a second, though.”
Seer was silent, rocking. Matty picked up the empty mugs, took them to the sink, and rinsed them.
“It’s late,” the blind man said. “Time to go to bed.” He rose from his chair and put his stringed instrument on the shelf where he kept it. He began to walk slowly to his sleeping room. “Good night, Matty,” he said.
Then he said something else, almost to himself.
“So now she has a Gaming Machine,” the blind man murmured. His voice sounded scornful.