Gathering Blue Read Online Free PDF

heard the details of the tragedy. She knew only what her mother had told her. But this man had known her father. This man had been there!
    Was he afraid? Was my father afraid?
It was a strange, unbiddden question, and she did not ask it aloud. But Kira was so afraid herself. She could feel Vandara's hatred as a presence by her side. She felt as if she were being taken by beasts; as if she were about to die. She wondered what the moment had been like for her father.
    "The third amendment applies here, as well," Jamison announced. "To the accusation 'She should not have been kept,' I reply that according to the third amendment, exceptions may be made."
    The chief guardian nodded. "Her father was a fine hunter," he said again. The others at the table, taking their lead from him, murmured in agreement.
    "Do you wish to speak?" they asked her. Again she shook her head. Again she felt, for the moment, spared.
    '"But she has not contributed,'" Jamison read next. '"She cannot dig or plant or weed, or even tend the domestic beasts the way other girls her age do. She drags that dead leg around like a useless burden. She is slow,'" he continued, and then Kira saw a hint of a smile as he concluded, "'and she eats a lot.'"
    The man stood silent for a moment. Then he said, "As defender, I am going to concede some of these points. It is clear that she cannot dig or plant or weed or tend domestic beasts. I believe, however, that she has found a way to contribute. Am I correct, Kira, that you work at the weaving shed?"
    Kira nodded, surprised. How did he know? Men paid no attention to the work of women.
    "Yes," she said, her voice soft from nervousness. "I help there. Not with the actual weaving. But I clean up the scraps and help prepare the looms. It is work I can do with my hands and arms. And I am strong."
    She wondered if she should mention her skill with the threads, her hope that perhaps she could use it as a way of making a living. But she couldn't think of a way to say it without sounding vain, so she kept still.
    "Kira," he said, looking toward her, "demonstrate your flaw for the Council of Guardians. Let us see you walk. Go to the door and back."
    It was cruel of him, she thought. They all knew about her twisted leg. Why did she have to do this in front of them, to submit to their humiliating stares? For a moment she was tempted to refuse, or at least to argue. But the stakes were too high. This was not a tykes' game, where arguing and fighting were expected. This was what would determine her future, or whether she had a future. Kira sighed and turned. She leaned on her stick and walked slowly to the door. Biting her lip, she dragged her aching leg step by step, and felt Vandara's contemptuous eyes on her back.
    At the door Kira turned and came slowly back to her place. Pain started in her foot and seared through her twisted leg. She longed to sit.
    "She does drag her leg, and she is slow," Jamison pointed out needlessly. "I concede those points.
    "Yet her work at the weaving shed is competent. She goes each day for regular hours, and she is never late. The women there value her help.
    "Does she eat a lot?" he asked, and chuckled. "I think not. Look how thin she is. Her weight refutes that accusation.
    "But I suspect she is hungry now," he said. "I am. I suggest we take a break for a meal."
    The chief guardian stood. "Do you wish to speak?" he asked Kira for the third time. For the third time she shook her head no. She felt terribly tired.
    "You may sit," he directed Kira and Vandara. "Food will be brought."
    Gratefully Kira lowered herself onto the nearby bench. She rubbed her throbbing leg with one hand. Across the aisle, she saw Vandara bow —
I forgot again! I should have bowed!
—and then sit, stony-faced.
    The chief guardian glanced down at his own stack of papers. "There are five more charges," he said. "We will deal with them and make a decision after the meal."
    Food appeared, brought by the door guard. A plate was handed