Magho’s face fell, but Chona wasn’t fooled; Magho, while clearly wanting the obsidian, was an experienced trader too. ‘Perhaps we could come to some arrangement. If I could choose the best four or six of your pieces-’
‘I wouldn’t want to break up the set. That way, if I need to take it elsewhere in the town, I’ll have a much better chance of a sale.’ That was true enough, and a subtle threat to take the hoard to one of Magho’s deadly social rivals.
‘I know what will make him cough up the obsidian,’ said Novu, the son, still cradling his head, but speaking slyly. ‘I saw the way he looked at Minda. Give him a bit of time alone with her and-’
This time the blow he received from his father was to the back of his neck. The boy recoiled, obviously shocked.
‘I apologise again for the boy,’ Magho said. ‘But… Minda.’ He grinned at Chona. ‘You couldn’t help noticing her, and I couldn’t help noticing you. Fifteen years old and sweet as a peach. Virgin, of course.’
‘Your wife’s sister?’
‘Niece, actually. Promised to another. I couldn’t help you there, my friend. And besides I already owe my wife’s brother, her father, a favour.’
Chona shook his head. ‘I have no interest in the girl,’ he lied, but he hoped it didn’t show. ‘We were speaking of trade.’
‘Yes, yes.’ Magho eyed him, and Chona realised he was about to come to the nub of his offer. ‘I do have one more item for you to consider. Something unusual – I merely ask you to have an open mind.’
‘What item?’
Magho stood, heavily. And he reached over, grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck, and hauled him to his feet. ‘This!’
Novu, obviously dizzy from the blows he had taken, whimpered, staggering. ‘Father? What are you doing?’
‘He’s no use to me,’ Magho said. ‘Far more trouble than he’s worth. But in the right hands he could be invaluable.’
‘I don’t take slaves.’ Chona was confused by the whole situation. ‘Invaluable how?’
‘He can make bricks,’ Magho said, almost proudly. ‘You’ve seen them being baked on the hillside yonder. There’s something of an art to it, you know, getting the right proportion of mud and straw and water, mixing them just so, drying them. Get it wrong and they crumble in your hands. Get it right and they last for ever, nearly. This boy has the knack of doing it. Ask anybody, it’s a gift of the gods, it’s nothing to do with me. I mean, he’s useless at everything else.’
Chona snorted. ‘Bricks might seem valuable to you. But this is an unusual place, where bricks are prized. You know that.’
‘But not unique. Come on, man, I’ve heard you talk. There are towns in the north and west-’
‘Far from here. Many days’ walk.’
‘You’re not going to have to carry him there, are you? You can walk him to wherever you want to sell him. He can even carry your pack for you.’
‘Why do you want rid of him, Magho?’
Magho glared at the boy. ‘Because of an incident that won’t make any difference to you. He’s a thief. He took a jade piece I particularly treasured, and hid it. I won’t have a thief in my house. I can’t afford it. A man in my position in this town-’
Novu protested, ‘You told mother you forgave me for that!’
‘So I lied. You’re no son of mine. You don’t have to sell him for making bricks, of course. He’s not bad looking, and he’s still young.’ He pinched the boy’s biceps and thighs. ‘You can see that. Feel for yourself. His balls have dropped.’ He cupped the boy’s groin; Novu flinched. ‘And he’s a virgin, of course, except for his close relationship with his right hand.’
‘I don’t run slaves,’ Chona repeated.
Magho heaved a sigh. ‘You strike a hard bargain. Suppose I had a word with Gorga. My wife’s brother. If I could persuade him about Minda, you know… A night with her?’
‘Well…
Magho clapped him on the shoulder again. ‘Just don’t ruin her for her husband, you bull. Look, I’ll leave you with the goods. I’ll come back after I’ve seen Gorga. And you,’ he said, pointing a finger at his son, ‘show some respect or I’ll break every tooth in your head, no matter what it does to your selling price.’
He stalked out. The boy sat again, shivering. But he stared defiantly at Chona. ‘He set it all up, you know. My father.’
‘Set what up?’
‘Minda. Do you think it was an accident she was here when you came?’
‘You know this, do you?’
He snorted. ‘I know my father. I know how he works. Why, once, my mother, his own wife, he made her-’
‘Shut up. I don’t want to know.’ If Magho had set up Minda as a way to swing the deal then he was a better trader than Chona had imagined. But again he felt the blood surge in his loins. Breaking the girl would do him good. Magho had a deal, he decided. An unusual deal, but a deal.
‘Get dressed to travel,’ he said to the boy. ‘Pick out your best clothes. I know places where such clothes will fetch a good price. I’ve some old skins that will do for you on the trail.’ The boy stared. ‘You’re taking me? You can’t be serious-’
As Novu protested, Chona leaned over and absently picked at the edge of the boy’s smock, fascinated by the detail of how the fabric had been woven.
And he coughed suddenly, a deep rasping cough that came out of nowhere and tore at his throat.
10
This morning they were to begin the Spring Walk south to the oyster beaches of the Moon Sea. It was only a few days before the equinox.
Etxelur was inhabited by six extended families, including Zesi’s, some tens of tens of people, all of whom Zesi knew by name. More than half of the people who lived here would be travelling today, men, women, and many, many children, walking south across the hills they called the Ribs of the First Mother to the rich coastline of the Moon Sea. Those left behind included the very young and their mothers, the old and ill, and others with urgent jobs – fisherfolk who needed to patch their boats and mend their nets ready for the new season, others who were already out hunting the grey seal who came ashore to breed, or climbing the sandstone cliffs further along the coast in search of nesting sea birds and their eggs.
The people started to gather early on the dunes overlooking the Seven Houses. Zesi heard the children playing in the long grass even before she first emerged from her house, carrying the buckets full of the night’s piss to empty into the stone-lined fuller’s pit. And by the time she and Ana and the Pretani boys had prepared their travelling kit, the dunes were crowded. All here because of Zesi.
As the discussions about the Spring Walk had firmed up, it had been Zesi who had taken a leading role, Zesi who had drawn out agreement, Zesi who had settled small disputes – Zesi around whose house the walkers now gathered, eager for the off. Her missing father had left a big hole in the community. In Etxelur women owned the houses, and made many fundamental decisions. But men made day-to-day choices, about whether to go fishing this month or hunt inland.
After half a year of making decisions on behalf of her vanished father, Zesi sometimes felt exhausted – wrung out, chased. But she admitted to herself she was having fun playing this dual role, of man and woman. Sometimes, when a boat was sighted coming in from over the horizon, a flurry of excitement would whirl around the settlements: could it be Kirike returning at last? The look of painful hope on poor Ana’s face on such occasions was distressing. But Zesi was beginning to think her own feelings about her father’s return were much more complicated – and when she felt that way guilt stabbed at her.
She kept her patience as everybody fussed, but the sun was higher than she would have liked before they were ready to go. At last she nodded to Jurgi. The priest stood high on a dune with his bull roarer, a bit of bone on a rope
