Chapter 11 The Fifteenth Day

On the first of the fifteen days Avelin Cindermill ate bread with salt and did not use her Read to find where the bread was, and Nyall Hallowfen was at the door with the coal, and Trenn Balcombe was at the table with the list, and the list had nine lines, and the ninth line had nothing on it, and the nothing was the date. "Fifteen days," Trenn said. "Fifteen days." "Then we will not decide anything." "We will not decide anything." "That means I will not ask." "You will not ask." "That means I will go to the foundry." "You will go to the foundry." "That means the roll will be closed." "The roll will be closed." "That means two men will not come back." "Two men will not come back." "Then you are killing two men to keep a date." Avelin put the bread down. She put the salt down. She looked at her daughter across the table, and the cloth was holding on the window, and the coal was on the step, and Nyall had gone in with her basket and out with the bread and she had not asked the question, and she had not looked at the arm. "No," Avelin said. "That is not the date. The date is what Mabry wrote. The date is what the rolls will not write. The date is a card in my coat, and the card is mine, and the card is the only honest thing I have, and I am not going to spend four months of my life so that two men who have been paid their wages can keep a place that was never theirs to keep." "They were paid their wages." "Then they will have their wages." "For one month. Then they go." "Then they go. And I will be dead on the nineteenth of the third month, and they will have had a month, and the month will be a real month, and I will have had two months and five days, and the two months and five days will be a real thing, and the real thing will be the card, and the card will be in my coat." Trenn picked up the list. She turned it face up. She looked at her mother's ink and her own, and the ink was the foundry ink, and the foundry ink was grey, and the grey was the grey of the Yard. "Then I will stop counting," Trenn said. "No. You will count." "Why." "Because I have told you the date, and if I tell you the date I have told you something, and if I have told you something then you own it, and if you own it you will count it, and if you count it you will not let me lie about it, and the counting is the only thing I have left that is not on a card." Trenn looked at the list. She folded it. She put it in her coat pocket, and she stood up, and she put her reading spectacles on, and she took the lunch box, and she went to the door, and she stood in the door, and she looked back at her mother one more time. "I will go to the foundry," Trenn said. "You will go to the foundry." "I will not bring you the ledger." "You will not bring me the ledger." "And I will not ask." "You will not ask." "And if they ask me." "Then you will tell them that the master has refused and that the roll is closed and that the failure is on the rolls and the rolls will keep it and the rolls will not read it back, and you will say the words exactly, and you will not add to them, and you will not soften them, and you will not look at me afterward." "I will not look at you afterward." "Then go." She went. She went down the stair and down the long street and up to the Yard, and she did not come back, and the day went on, and the coal was on the step, and the bread was in the drawer, and the cloth was holding, and the list was in the pocket of a coat that was at the Yard, and the Yard had a bench in it and the bench had no ruler on it, and the ruler was in the pocket of a man who had been sent, and the man had been sent, and the bench was quiet. That night Avelin woke at the fourth hour, which was the hour she had woken before, and this time she knew why she had woken, because she had decided to wake, and the deciding was the spending, and the spending was the metal, and the metal did not move, and the metal did not move, and the metal did not move. She lay in the bed with her eyes open and her hand on her stomach, and she felt the room, and the room was the room, and she did not read the room, and she did not weigh the room, and she did not reach for the door, and she did not lift the blanket, and she lay there, and she counted her own breaths, and the counting cost nothing, and the counting was hers, and the counting was the short book. At the fifth hour she felt her arm. She felt the brass under the cuff, and the brass was warm, and the brass was the brass, and she did not look at the number, and the number did not look at her, and the number was 1419 on the metal and 1174 on the rolls, and the difference was 245, and the 245 was the fifty-one days, and the fifty-one days was spent, and the spent was the metal, and the metal was hers. She got up. She went to the window. She opened the shutter, and the morning was coming, and the morning was the morning, and she let it in, and she stood in the window with her arm under her sleeve, and she did not decide anything, and the day was the day, and the day was the first of fifteen. ---