Pattern Read Free Page B

often – about a hundred years, on average, which means it’d have happened exactly twice since we’ve been here – the mountain starts sneezing fire and blowing out great big rocks and dribbling rivers of red-hot cinders – like a bad cold in the head, except with burning snot. In case you’re inclined to listen to them, these are the same people who tell stories about man-eating birds and islands in the middle of the sea that turn out to be sleeping whales. I thought maybe they’d been picking on you because suddenly there’s someone on this island who might actually believe them.’
    â€˜Oh, I see. So that’s all right, then.’
    Eyvind nodded. ‘There’s a whole lot of things to be afraid of in this life,’ he said, ‘but an exploding mountain isn’t one of them.’
    That was reassuring enough, but there was still an itch at the back of his mind, a sore patch where a buried memory might be trying to work its way through before bursting out in a cloud of white steam. Perhaps it was just the name of the mountain that bothered him so much; and because, out of all the kind and helpful people and solid, reliable things he’d encountered since he’d been here, the mountain was still the only one he really trusted. ‘One of these days,’ he said, ‘will you take me up there to see the hot springs? I’ve heard a whole lot about them but I can’t really imagine it. Sounds too good to be true, all that boiling hot water just coming up out of a hole in the ground.’
    â€˜Sure,’ Eyvind replied, ‘though it’s a hell of a climb, and most of the way you’ve got to walk. It’s always struck me as a hell of a long way to go just to see some hot water you can’t actually use for anything.’ He shrugged. ‘When I want hot water, I fill the copper and put it over the fire. Takes a while to come to the boil, but it beats hay out of all that walking.’
    Poldarn nodded. ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘I’ll hold you to that.’
    â€˜Please do; wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Well,’ Eyvind went on, glancing up at the sky, ‘you may not have any work to do, but I’ve got a bucketful.’ He jumped to his feet. ‘Catch you later, probably.’
    Poldarn got up as well. ‘Can I come and help?’ he asked.
    â€˜You don’t know what the job is.’
    â€˜True. But I’m bored stiff with sitting around.’
    Eyvind shrugged. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘Your grandfather’s given our house two dozen barrels of river gravel, for metalling the boggy patch at the bottom of our yard. All I’ve got to do is collect it and take it away.’
    A slight twinge in Poldarn’s left shoulder seemed to urge him to back out now, while he had the chance. ‘I reckon I’m on for that,’ he said. ‘So, where is it now?’
    Eyvind laughed. ‘In the river, of course; that’s where river gravel comes from.’
    â€˜Oh.’
    â€˜Thought you’d say that. First, we get a few long-handled shovels and dig it out, then we load it into barrels, which Halder’s kindly lending us for the purpose, then we load the barrels onto a couple of carts, job done. It’s bloody hard work and it’ll take the rest of the day.’ His face relaxed a little. ‘Really,’ he said, ‘you don’t have to if you don’t want to. Turburn and Asley’ll give me a hand.’
    Poldarn knew who they were. Turburn was a huge man with a bald head and with shoulders as wide as a plough yoke; Asley looked like Turburn’s big brother. Either of them could pick up a three-hundredweight barrel of gravel and walk right round the farm carrying it without realising it was there. ‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘I don’t mind, I need the exercise.’
    Eyvind was looking at him as if he was a