“He’s lost the gift. Can’t you see? He could turn on us at any time,” Conna murmured.
“Lock him up?” Illya asked.
“Unless you think banishment is better,” Conna said. Illya sucked in a breath and shook his head. No one would ever be banished again in this village, not if he could help it.
Conna clapped him on the shoulder and began to speak to everyone in a raised voice.
“Elias is a danger to the village. First, he failed to do anything for us when the roots went. Now he spreads unrest. This is a time for celebrating what we have accomplished, but instead a man has had his life threatened.
“By order of the Leader, Elias will be locked in the cellar of the stone house, where he won’t be a danger to us anymore!” Conna seized Elias by his tied wrists and held them up in the air. The Patrollers clustered in tighter around him, flanking Elias with an obvious show of strength.
“We won’t tolerate sabotage, not when our survival is at stake,” Conna said. He gave a nod and the Patrollers pulled Elias away.
No one spoke as the figures retreated. Illya saw the stunned expressions on the faces around him, and his stomach cramped in worry. He glanced at Sabelle.
Her eyes were red from crying, and she bit her lip, watching silently. Illya swallowed, wanting to do something to make everything better, but he had no idea where to start. His heart sank; he was sure that any chance he had ever had with her was ruined.
Suddenly, she looked up at him, meeting his eyes over the sea of shaking heads. He couldn’t read her expression. He frowned, wishing he could tell her how sorry he was, how he had never meant for any of this to happen.
But it had happened.
He was in up to his neck now, and he had no choice but to move forward. The crowd was beginning to mill about with an air of uncertainty, coming out of their paralysis as the moment passed. He had to say something to salvage something of the day.
“Everyone listen,” he yelled, and his voice croaked. He ignored the jumping of his stomach.
“We will find a way to bring water. Until we do, some people will be assigned to carry it,” he said, and this time his voice came out clear and loud. Conna returned from the stone house and stood beside him.
“The digging was a giant task, and we did it. You all made it possible.” He paused for emphasis, hoping desperately that they weren’t regretting what they had done now. “This is a great accomplishment, but it’s only the start. We can do anything if we all work together. Everyone will support each other. Everyone will have a job,” Illya said. He took a breath and scanned their faces. So far, no one seemed to have anything to say.
Conna began to speak. “I think that after what just happened, we can all agree that it’s time we had a way to protect ourselves. I propose a team of Enforcers to do inside the village what the Patrollers do outside,” Conna said.
Illya pressed his lips together. He didn’t like the sound of that, but Conna had a point he had to admit. He glanced down at the gashes in the newly planted furrows.
“We’ve never needed anything like that before,” Charlie Polestad said.
“That’s because we have never been in the kind of danger we are now,” Conna shot back. “If this plan fails, it will be the end of us.”
“So, you’re going to lock all of us up in the cellar now, just because we don’t agree with you?” Impiri said, nearly spitting the words.
“I hope that won’t be necessary,” Conna said. Impiri looked back and forth between Conna and Illya. She nodded slowly, once.
“I see,” she said.
Illya clenched his teeth.
He opened his mouth to protest then shut it again. He could not afford to push Conna away, especially not now. The stakes were higher than ever.
He looked at the field, and the lump in his stomach hardened.
“Conna’s right. We have to be willing to do what it takes, and that means protecting ourselves,” Illya said.
He picked up the book again, opening it to the right section. He licked his lips, which had gone dry with nerves, and read:
“In a garden, weeds, insects, animals, and harsh weather can all kill seedlings and rob you of your harvest.” He looked around significantly and shut the book.
“So, there will be people to pull out weeds,” he said. He had practiced this speech many times when he was alone in his hut, thinking over what he was going to say.
“We also need water-carriers, child-watchers, cooks, and, of course, hunters and gatherers.” The people said nothing. He took a deep breath. He was just getting to the best part.
“When we have worked out how make it through this year, we can start planning for next year,” he said.
He paused then, letting the words sink in for a moment. There was murmuring now, and though he couldn’t be sure, he thought it was excitement. He glanced at Sabelle. She was still frowning, but he thought it was a little less than before. Impiri put her hand on Sabelle’s shoulder and she shrugged it off. His mother and Benja were standing nearby, beaming outright at him. Heartened, he pushed on.
“I want us to expand this field to the edge of the forest. After that, we can tear down the ruined huts on the north side of the village and plant there too. Next year, we will have three times the harvest.” He smiled wide, lightness at the thought of it rising through him.
“There are a few other jobs. Samuel will continue as our Healer. Instead of the old way, where you paid him in game or foods, we must recognize that most people will be in the position of depending on others for food, and we will share all we have equally every day. We will gather at the central fire for meals and eat together.”
He knew that families looked forward to going home to share the evening meal, but this would not be so different. The whole village would become a family. In his inflated dreams, he could see visions of countless nights of happy feasting.
Maybe someday they could even assign people to be artisans and inventors. Then Ban would be able to work on inventing new and better things all the time. Someday, maybe they could have the kind of world the Olders had lived in, the kind in the beautiful pictures.
“Once the cold comes, we will have a bountiful harvest that will see us through the winter easily.” He had read about “bountiful harvests” and thought that the words were perfect for this occasion.
“Now you will come forward, one at a time, and I will give you the position that I have chosen for you. I have consulted the Almanac, and I have given each of you the job that you are best suited to do.” He sent a quick glance at Conna, who nodded in approval. Despite his earlier misgivings, Illya felt a swell of pride. He knew his words had come out smoothly with no telltale stutter.
Charlie stepped up first, his eagerness plain on his face, despite a red lump and a gash on his forehead, which still hadn’t fully healed. Illya smiled, feeling a surge of warmth for him. He had decided to give Charlie one of the most labor-intensive jobs, knowing that he would do it with enthusiasm.
“Charlie Polestadt, you will be a water-carrier until we have a watering system. After that, the water-carriers will be soil-diggers for the new fields,” he said. Charlie beamed at him, and Illya returned it. His wife Leya stepped up next.
Illya had decided to assign entire families to the same job. That way, children who were old enough to work with some supervision could be taught by their parents. This way, they would need fewer child-watchers.
He hesitated for a moment before continuing. He knew that some of them were bound not to like it.
Leya was pregnant, due in two months. Still, she had worked alongside her husband digging the new field.
“Leya Polestadt, you will be a water-carrier, then a soil-digger with Charlie,” he said. “Of course, you must take care of yourself, and when the time for your baby comes near, you will rest.” He smiled at her tentatively, and Leya returned it.