K Parker - Pattern

That appeared to be all he had to say, so he sat down again. For what seemed like a very, very long time, nobody moved or spoke. Bloody hell, he said to himself, I've really done it this time. Then, just as he was wondering how he should set about apologising, Halder got up and looked round.

'Well,' he said, 'that's what we'll do, then. After all, you're the one who knows about these things.'

For a moment, Poldarn thought the old man was being funny. But if he was, nobody had got the joke. They didn't look particularly happy, but Poldarn could recognise resigned acceptance when he saw it. Amazing, he said to himself, I never knew I had such eloquence and leadership skills. Come to think of it, I'm not sure that's something I want to know about myself. Chances are if I've always had these qualities, I haven't done nice things with them.

Then he noticed the expression on Eyvind's face, and wondered what on earth was going on. He had no idea why, but Eyvind was scowling at him with genuine anger. What did I say? He wondered. He's glaring at me like I just set light to his beard.

'Right,' Halder went on, with an audible sigh, 'no use sitting here, we've got work to do. If anyone wants me, I'll be in the trap-house.'

A few moments later, the hall was empty, except for Poldarn and Eyvind; and Eyvind hadn't shifted or changed the expression on his face.

'Well,' Poldarn said, trying to keep the tension out of his voice, 'I didn't expect that.'

'Really?' Eyvind's voice was unusually quiet and flat; usually, he didn't just talk, he performed. 'Seems to me it all went off exactly the way you'd have wanted it to. I mean, they're all out there doing as they're told, aren't they?'

Poldarn shrugged. 'I suppose so,' he said. 'Though if they are, it beats me how. I mean, I was expecting we'd be here till midnight sorting out the details, like who's going with the herd, who's staying here, which jobs are essential and which ones we can put on hold for the time being. Instead-'

'Not what you wanted, then.' Eyvind sounded like a man who was barely in control of his temper, words leaking out of him involuntarily. 'I can see that.'

Poldarn knew it would have been better to let that go, but he was curious. 'What do you mean?' he asked.

'You know perfectly bloody well.'

'No.' Poldarn shook his head emphatically. 'I don't know, that's the point. Come on, you know as well as I do, I haven't got a clue how their minds work.'

'Our minds, you mean. And it doesn't look that way to me.'

Poldarn could feel an argument closing in, maybe even a fight. The question was whether he'd be able to get out of the way in time. 'Suit yourself,' he replied (and he knew at once that he'd used entirely the wrong tone). 'I'm just telling you, that's all. Really, I didn't mean to, well, take charge or anything. We were discussing what would be the best thing to do, and I gave my opinion. Honestly, I didn't mean anything by it.'

'Sure.' Eyvind jumped to his feet, every aspect of the movement suggesting that he couldn't stand being in a confined space with Poldarn for one moment more. 'That's all right, then. I believe you. Now I think I'll go and get my horse saddled. Time I was going home, I reckon.'

'Oh.' Poldarn hadn't been expecting that. 'I can understand you wanting to,' he went on. 'It's just that-well, you've been here ever since I arrived, I guess I've got used to depending on you-to explain things, tell me what's going on, let me know when I've done something ignorant or offensive. It'll be hard having to cope on my own.'

'Really' Eyvind had his back to him now. 'Well, I'm sure you'll manage. After all, you've got them eating out of your hand, which suggests you're more or less settled in, doesn't it?'

This is ridiculous, Poldarn thought. 'Look,' he said, 'I've obviously done something wrong. Would you mind telling me what it is?'

He heard Eyvind sigh, though he couldn't see the other's face. 'It's not about right and wrong, you should know that by now. There's no such thing as wrong, standing all by itself, not connected to anything. You did what you felt you had to do. That's not wrong.'

'But?'

'I wouldn't have done it. Nor would anybody else, in your shoes. It's not how we go about things here.'

Now Poldarn was starting to get angry. 'What isn't?' he insisted.

'Forget it, will you? I mean,' Eyvind added quietly, 'that's what you're good at, forgetting things. Must be a wonderful knack to have, that.'

More than anything, Poldarn wanted to hit him for that; he could feel how much satisfaction it would give him to drive his fist into the back of Eyvind's head. If anything ever seemed to be the right thing to do at a particular moment, that was it. Instead, he deliberately unclenched his hands. 'You may well be right,' he said. 'For some time, I've had this feeling that the reason why I can't remember anything is that deep down, I don't really want to; because whoever I used to be, I don't want to be him any more. I've got no idea if that's a sensible attitude or not. Really, all I can do is try and get along without hurting myself. Or anybody else, for that matter.'

(That last bit hadn't been there in his mind, he'd had to add it deliberately and it hadn't sounded at all right. Not so good.)

'Sure,' Eyvind said again, somehow contriving to bleach any hint of expression out of the word. 'Look.' He turned round, and Poldarn could see the strain in his face. 'Let me give you a bit of advice, just to show there's no ill feeling. Halder knows he's going to die soon; he was only hanging on because there wasn't anybody to take over from him, and then you turned up and he's been waiting to see if you'll shape up. But he won't last much longer, this bloody business with the mountain is going to kill him any day now; he knows it, everybody knows it-apart from you, apparently. When he dies, you'll be the farmer here, it'll be your house and your farm. Everybody knows that, too. So, if you start telling people what to do, naturally they're going to do it, because this is all new to us-I'm not just talking about the volcano, I mean this business of having to cope with things we don't know about or understand. But you-well, I don't think you really know any more about us than you did when you arrived. Oh, you've picked up a whole bunch of details, like a ball of wet dough picking up dust, but you've positively refused to join in or act like this is where you belong. Until now; and suddenly you're in charge, you're giving orders. Damn it, if I'd known you were going to do that, I'd have left you behind at Deymeson.'

Poldarn could feel anger building up inside him, a massive force of rage and fury pressing against his chest, making it hard for him to breathe. 'I'm really sorry you feel that way,' he said, 'and if I'd known, of course I wouldn't have said anything. I promise you, I won't do it again if it bothers you so much. Does that make it any better, or are you still mad at me?'

Eyvind shook his head. 'I don't know about you, really,' he said. 'First time we met, remember, I tried to kill you. And you killed Cetel, my best friend who I'd known since I was a kid-in self-defence, sure, and neither of us had a clue at the time who you were, so I'm not blaming you or anything. But at the time I had a feeling that we weren't going to turn out to be lucky for each other, one way or another. Oddly enough, it was you I felt sorry for. I got the impression you'd come out worse for us having met. But then again, I get these feelings every now and again, and nineteen times out of twenty they're just plain wrong.'

Poldarn wanted the anger to go away, but it wouldn't. 'One in twenty,' he said. 'That's a lousy average. In fact, it means that when you get one of these premonitions, there's a ninety-five per cent chance it isn't going to come true, so it looks like the best odds are that neither of us is going to come to a bad end. Excellent. You've cheered me up no end.'