The weaving shed was farther along, mercifully in a shady area surrounded by large trees. It was quieter there and cooler, though the mosquitoes were more numerous. The women in the shed, seated at looms, nodded to Kira as she approached. “There’s plenty scraps to gather,” one called and gestured with her head as her hands continued work.
It was the job that Kira usually did, the tidying up. She was not permitted to weave yet, though she had always watched carefully how it was done and thought that she could have, if they needed her.
She had not been at the weaving shed in many days, not since her mother’s illness and death. So much had happened. So much had changed. She assumed that she would not be returning now that her status seemed different. But because they had called to her in a friendly way, Kira moved through the shed, through the clatter of the wooden looms at work, and picked up the scraps from the floor. One loom was silent, she noticed. No one was working there today. Fourth from the end, she counted. Usually Camilla was there.
She paused by the empty loom and waited until a nearby worker had stopped to reset her shuttle.
“Where is Camilla?” Kira asked curiously. Sometimes, of course, the women left briefly, to wed, to give birth, or simply assigned to some other temporary task.
The weaver glanced over, her hands still occupied. Her feet began to move again on the treadle. “She fell, took a clumsy fall, over at the stream.” She gestured with her head. “Doing washing. The rocks were mossy.”
“Yes, it’s slippery there.” Kira knew. She had slipped herself sometimes at the stream, at the washing place.
The woman shrugged. “She broke her arm real bad. Can’t be fixed. Can’t be made straight. No more good for weaving. Her hubby tried real hard to straighten up the arm ’cause he needs her. For the tykes and such. But she’ll probably go to the Field.”
Kira shuddered, imagining the torturing pain of the broken arm as the hubby tried to pull it into a healing shape.
“She has five tykes, Camilla does. Now she can’t care for them, or work. They’ll be given away. You want one?” The woman grinned at Kira. She had few teeth.
Kira shook her head. She smiled wanly and continued down the aisle between the looms.
“You want her loom?” the woman called after her. “They’ll be needing somebody to take it. You’re probably ready to weave.”
But Kira shook her head again. She had wanted to weave, once. The weaving women had always been kind to her. But her future seemed different now.
The looms clattered on. From the shade of the shed, Kira noticed that the sun was lower in the sky. It would soon be the ringing of four bells. She nodded goodbye to the weaving women and headed back along the path toward the place where she had lived with her mother, the place where her cott had long stood, the place of the only home she had ever known. She felt a need to say goodbye.
Six
The huge bell in the tower of the Council Edifice began to ring. The bell governed the people’s lives. It told them when to begin work and when to stop, when to gather for meetings, when to prepare for a hunt, celebrate an event, or arm for danger. Four bells—the third was resonating now—meant that the day’s business could end. For Kira, it meant the time to report to the Council of Guardians. She hurried toward the central plaza through the crowds of people leaving their workplaces.
Matt was waiting on the steps as he had promised. Branch, beside him, was pawing excitedly at a large iridescent beetle, blocking its path again and again with a paw as the beetle tried unsuccessfully to waddle by. The dog looked up and wagged its crooked tail when Kira called a greeting.
“What you got?” Matt asked, looking at the small bundle Kira carried on her back.
“Not much.” She laughed ruefully. “But I had stored a few things in the clearing so they missed the burning. My basket of threads, and some scraps of cloth. And look at this, Matt.” She reached into her pocket and held up a lumpy oblong. “I found my soap where I left it on a rock. Good thing, because I don’t know how to make it, and I have no coins to buy any.”
Then she laughed, realizing that Matt, grimy and unkempt, felt no need of soap. She supposed Matt had a mother somewhere, and usually mothers scrubbed their tykes now and then, but she had never known Matt clean.
“Here, I brung these.” Matt indicated a pile of objects wrapped haphazardly in a dirty woven cloth on the step near him. “Some things I took before the burning, for you to have iffen they let you stay.”
“Thank you, Matt.” Kira wondered what he had chosen to rescue.
“But you’ll not be carrying it because of your horrid gimp,” he said, referring to her crippled leg. “So I’ll be your carrier, once they tells you where you’re to be. That way I’ll know too.”
Kira liked the idea of Matt coming with her and knowing where she would live. It made everything seem less strange. “Wait here, then,” she told him. “I must go inside, and they’ll show me where I’ll be living. Then I’ll come back for you. I have to hurry, Matt, because the bells have finished, and they told me to come at four bells.”
“Me and Branch can wait. I’ve got me a sucker I filched from a shop,” Matt said, pulling a dirt-encrusted candy from his pocket, “and Branch, him always loves a mammoth buggie to poke, like now.” The dog’s ears shot up at the sound of his name but his eyes never left the beetle on the step.
Kira hurried inside the Council Edifice while the boy waited on the steps.
Only Jamison was in the large room waiting for her. She wondered if having been appointed her defender at the trial, he was now to be her overseer. Oddly she felt a little twinge of irritation. She was old enough to manage alone. Many girls her age were preparing for marriage. She had always known she would not marry—her twisted leg made it an impossibility; she could never be a good wife, could never perform the many duties required—but certainly she could manage alone. Her mother had, and had taught her.
But he nodded in welcome and her brief irritation faded and was forgotten.
“There you are,” Jamison said. He rose and folded the papers he’d been reading. “I’ll show you to your quarters. It isn’t far. It’s in a wing of this building.”
Then he looked at her and at the small bundle she carried on her back. “Is that all you have?” he asked.
She was glad that he had inquired because it gave her the opportunity to mention Matt.
“Not quite,” Kira told him. “But I can’t carry much because of—” She gestured toward her leg. Jamison nodded.
“So I have a boy who helps me. His name is Matt. I hope you don’t mind, but he’s waiting on the steps. He has my other things. I was hoping that maybe you would let him continue as my helper. He’s a good boy.”
Jamison frowned slightly. Then he turned and called to one of the guards. “Get the boy from the steps,” he said.
“Ah,” Kira interrupted. Both Jamison and the guard turned. She felt awkward and spoke apologetically. She even felt herself bow slightly. “He has a dog,” she said in a low voice. “He won’t go anyplace without his dog.
“It’s quite small,” she added in a whisper.