Across the Face of the World Read Online Free Page A

village. Hermesa's little brother had been knocked over, he remembered that. The soldiers never stopped to check if the small boy had been hurt, they just rode off as though they owned the world. Then his father had tried to explain things to them, his mother crying already and Leith wanting to run away or to knock someone down but not knowing where or who.
    'The King is dying,' his father had said, 'and he sends me to my death.'
    That night he had held them close, and then he had gone away.
    An image came unbidden to his mind, an image of a tall man stooping over a log, trying to pull an axe from it. The muscles of his unshirted torso strained with effort. With a grunt the axe came free; then down it came, again and again, until the log was split in two.
    Leith knew it was his father, but try as he might, he could not see the face.
    He shook his head to clear it of the image, and forced himself back to reality, shivering as the cold wind whipped around him. If growing up meant having to do things he didn't want to, things like walking down the narrow, rutted path leading to the house of Kurr the farmer, then he wasn't sure he wanted to grow up. He wanted to be exploring with his friends, talking with Hal, walking with Stella, working the fields with his father.
    He could see the farm buildings now. They nestled below him
    in a small defile, surrounded by trees bravely fluttering their few remaining autumn flags against the winter wind. Behind the ochres and golds rose another cattle-grazed hill, stretching lazily away towards the sea.

    The old man was watching the road from the door of his barn. He saw the silhouetted figure shuffle slowly into view, with head down and hands in pockets, reluctance clearly showing in his demeanour. Good. He still remembers Kurr the farmer. Well, Kurr still remembers a little episode concerning an apple or two. There's nothing like fear to make a boy work harder.
    He waited until the youth had trudged up the steps to the house and had knocked lightly on the door, as if he didn't really want an answer. Then he eased open the barn door.
    'You! Boy! Over here!'
    The white-faced boy started, then looked in the direction of the barn. He stood where he was, irresolute.
    'Quickly, if you know what's good for you!'
    The voice was definitely coming from the barn. More than anything Leith wanted to run, but he forced himself to walk ner¬vously towards the old building.
    The farmer waited until the boy was in the shadow of the barn, then stepped out, thrusting a stick before him.

    'Mahnum's boy, eh?' the old man bellowed. 'I thought Mahnum's boy was at least fifteen by now. How old are you, boy?'
    'Sixteen, sir,' Leith stammered.
    'Come now, boy, you're not yet twelve if I'm any judge. I'll have a word or two to say to that fool of a Haufuth if he's sent me the wrong boy. You are Mahnum's boy?'
    'Y-yes, sir.'
    The old man laughed uproariously, wagging the stick in all direc¬tions. 'A cripple and a runt.
    He got what he deserved, taking up with the fancy woman from the city. A cripple and a runt!
    Well now, runt, do you know what you'll be doing for me this week?'

    'No, sir.'
    The old farmer was close to him now, pointing his willow cane at Leith's chest. Leith could see the lines etched into the sharp¬ness of his face, surrounding clear and lively eyes. Eyes full of malice.
    'It's in my barn,' he chuckled. 'I want you inside my barn.'
    By now Leith was too angry to be frightened. A twelve'year-old runt? He took a deep breath and strode past the farmer.
    The old man smiled. Fear and anger would make good taskmas¬ters.
    Morning gave way to afternoon, and the afternoon dragged on. The air in the barn was thick with animal smells, and as Leith worked at undoing rotted stitching on a canvas awning, the sound of horses in their stalls came to his ears. The noises seemed to be coming from the rear of the dimly lit building. Horses were the main measure of wealth in the north of Firanes.
    There were a few