Barren

It was Sixthday – market day – and harvest season. The schoolhouse was packed this time of year while parents went to the square to shop. For many children in Tibbet’s Brook, market day was their only schooling each week, and Selia’s mother worked hard to make it count. Most children learned warding at home, but few had letters, or maths past counting livestock.

‘This is Anjy Watch.’ Lory gestured to the young woman. ‘She’ll be staying in the room upstairs for a few seasons, helping teach the Watches who come for market day. Selia, will you show her—’

‘Of course,’ Selia blurted.

‘Wonder what’s wrong with her,’ Deardra snipped, ‘Watches want to be rid of her for a few seasons?’

‘Looking for a husband,’ Raddock guessed. ‘Watches send the pretty ones sometimes, when they want to hook strong young backs to add to their numbers.’

‘Ent that pretty,’ Deardra muttered.

Lory rapped her straightstick on the desk, and the din of children quieted. ‘Everyone fetch your slates.’

There was chaos as dozens of dirty children, many of them barefoot, bustled around the slate piles and fetched chalk from the dusty bin, streaking dirty coveralls and skirts with the white powder.

The students in from Southwatch were the exception. Their white shirts and blouses were clean and bright, boots and shoes polished to shine. There were no patches or holes in their charcoal-grey trousers and skirts. Each had their own slate, chalk held ready without a sign of it on their clothes.

The Watches sat quietly in neat rows, eyes on the schoolmam, and Lory rose to the occasion, teaching advanced reading and mathematics to the older students while Selia and the other teaching assistants broke the rest into groups for more remedial lessons.

Anjy took the younger Watch children. Selia watched a bit longer than was proper, pulling her eyes away and turning back to her group hoping no one noticed. ‘You have one hundred and fifty cattle.’

‘Ent got half that many,’ Mack Pasture said.

‘Figuratively,’ Selia explained patiently. ‘Imagine you have one hundred and fifty cattle.’

Mack closed his eyes, brow knotting as he struggled to envision such wealth. He began to smile. ‘All right.’

Selia fought the urge to roll her eyes. ‘You sell ten per cent of them. How many do you have left?’

The smile left Mack’s face. He opened one eye, as if reluctant to let his imagined cattle go. ‘One hundred … forty?’

‘One thirty-five, idjit,’ Harl Tanner spat.

‘That’s enough out of you, Harl Tanner!’ Selia snapped. ‘What did I tell you would happen, you spat on the schoolhouse floor again?’

Harl’s face went deathly pale. ‘Ay, please. Don’t tell my da. It’ll be the outhouse for sure!’

Selia didn’t know the term, but she could guess its meaning well enough. Young Harl was more apt to instil fear than feel it. If he was afraid of his father, there was good reason. ‘Then that floor had best be scrubbed clean.’

Harl was on his knees with a bucket and brush when Lory rang the bell and the other children spilled out into the yard.

Raddock and the other teaching assistants came to stand by Selia as the children filed past. ‘You should tell his father anyway.’

Selia thrust her chin Harl’s way. ‘Why, when the threat of it is enough to pull the wood?’

‘Da says lessons don’t set in without a trip to the woodshed,’ Raddock said.

‘Tanners call it the outhouse,’ Selia said.

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