They were all looking at him. He caught a glare from Conna, and scrambled to say something.
“The book says that they will sprout soon, and in a few weeks, we will see shoots.”
Even those who were still unsure brightened at the thought of shoots. For the first time, he saw smiles all around.
“By fall, we will have mature plants. A hundred sunchokes, each with a whole network of roots and with great big seed heads,” he said, his shoulders relaxing.
“Your plants will shrivel up and die and all of us with them,” Impiri shouted from the edge of the field.
Conna started to answer, but, for once, Illya was faster. The moment of planting was too sweet to let her ruin it.
“We don’t need you sending curses at us,” he said.
“It’s no curse, boy. It’s the truth,” Impiri said, striding up to him. Her face wrinkled up like an old crabapple. “You forget that my great grandfather was the Planter. I know more about the dangers of planting than you do.”
Illya sighed; he started to roll his eyes at her but remembered that everyone was watching him as stopped.
“The old Planters ended because their seeds never grew. But we have new seeds now.” He pointed at the forest, which was just beginning to burst into life. The shoots of a few weeks past were growing tall, starting to become plants, and the trees grew tender leaf buds.
“A real Planter would know that, even if they sprout, they will die without water,” Impiri said. The condescension in her voice was like a spear jab. He felt his face grow hot with fury.
“What do you know about it?” he sputtered; then he recovered. “How long has it been since the time of the last Planter? There’s plenty of water here, when has the forest ever died from lack of it?”
Impiri smirked and crossed her arms.
“In the forest there is water but not here. The sun will get hot soon. You will see,” she said.
Illya blinked. Her words sank into his mind slowly, like a rock dropping into a swamp. He had never paid particular attention to this field before the digging, but he had walked through it every summer of his life.
“That’s true, that is,” someone said in the crowd.
“We’ve been carrying water in for people to drink. It’s a long way from the river.” He heard Julian whispering to Conna nearby.
Frantically, Illya shifted through his memories, thinking of what the field was like at different times of the year. Around him, the crowd’s muttering rose like a windstorm. A horrible sick feeling filled his stomach.
She was right.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE BUZZING OF the crowd pressed in on his eardrums.
“Stop it! Stop it!” Illya yelled.
The people gaped up at him. He winced at the note of panic he heard coming through in his voice.
“We will figure it out. It’s only a minor setback.”
“Then you admit that it’s a setback,” Impiri said. “You admit that your precious book was wrong.”
“No! I just didn’t know—”
“I’m sure there are many little things we will be adjusting to make sure this works,” Conna said smoothly, cutting him off. He came up behind Illya and put a hand on his shoulder. “We will find a way to bring water. It isn’t a problem. You’ll all see when we have a field of beautiful plants.”
They were not so easily satisfied. Illya glanced around and saw many dark expressions.
Illya edged away from Conna, unsure of what to do. The emotions of the crowd surged against him like breakers in a storm. Their belief in him would not hold up for long.
“I’ve heard enough of your talk,” Jimmer growled and started at Conna. Conna backed away.
“You stupid boys are going to ruin us because you can’t be bothered to think,” Elias gasped, his face red with fury. He turned to the people, spreading his hands palms up, pleading. “I’ve never led you wrong before. Why wouldn’t you trust me?”
“Because you had no plan at all!” Illya snapped, surprised by the strength of his reaction. It wasn’t Elias’s fault that they had all nearly starved, but he hadn’t been willing to do anything to stop it either. Illya was taking a risk, but at least he was willing to do what it took. Arguments that had halted when Jimmer ran at Conna resumed throughout the cluster of people.
“You would lead this village to rot,” Elias said.
“We have already looked too far into things that should be mysteries,” Impiri said. “What will you do when—”
She was interrupted when two men who had been arguing started shoving each other and stumbled into her, pushing her to the ground.
Nearby, Conna was struggling with his father. He seemed well practiced in dodging Jimmer’s strikes, but one of them connected with his nose, and blood poured down his face.
Impiri was sitting on the ground, shrieking at the men who collided with her. Sabelle pulled her to her feet. Somewhere behind him, Illya heard Benja hollering at Elias in his defense.
“You would have left us all starving or thrown us all out!” Benja yelled.
Then a group of people near Impiri picked up the abandoned shovels on the edge of the field and started hacking at the newly planted furrows. Illya saw it in a blur, his vision tunneling in on the sight of the sharp blades tearing at the earth.
He raced toward them, imagining the seeds themselves being hacked to pieces. The only thing he felt was panic. He reached the people and started to pull the tools away, but there were too many of them, and he was only one person.
“Father, no!” Sabelle’s cry cut through the air. He turned and saw her sprinting towards something beyond the crowd, her hair streaming out behind her, her eyes frantic.
Then the struggling crowd parted for a moment, and Illya saw what she had seen.
Elias had Benja. He held a crude metal knife to Benja’s throat. Sabelle reached them. Elias stared at her with a crazed look as if he didn’t recognize her.
The man that he was had departed and left another in his place. Illya lurched forward with his heart in his throat as Sabelle seized her father’s hand. She wrenched the knife away from Benja’s throat. He struggled against the arm Elias had barred across his chest, trying to get free.
Elias held on to Benja tightly, but he did not fight his daughter. Something flickered behind the desperation. His eyes went dull and he and let her pull the knife from his fingers.
“Don’t hurt him,” Sabelle whispered. They stared at each other. Illya pushed past people, trying to reach them. He was not the only one who had heard Sabelle’s scream; many were now crowding in to get a view.
Conna, with Julian and Aaro behind him, arrived first and freed Benja from Elias’ grasp. The Patrollers seized Elias, holding his arms behind his back. Conna produced a length of rope from somewhere and bound his hands together.
No one in the crowd was fighting anymore. All stared in shock at the old Leader.
Elias stopped fighting. He hung his head, and tears ran unchecked down his cheeks. Sabelle was crying too.
“I…” Elias said and gulped in shuddering sob.
“Benja didn’t do anything to you,” Conna said, snarling.
Elias didn’t answer. He looked down. Frozen, Illya stared at him, blinking again and again as if he could reset the scene. Things were happening so fast, whirling past in a blur, out of his control. Everything seemed to be unraveling around him.
Conna was whispering something in his ear.
“We have to lock him up, there’s no other way,” he said. Illya looked up. He could find no words to respond. His eyes drifted over to where Sabelle stood. She was crying. Nearby, Benja was stroking his uninjured throat.