Read Pattern for Free Online

barn. ‘All right,’ he said, ‘go on.’
    â€˜Go on, what?’
    â€˜Please.’
    â€˜In the south of the Empire,’ Grandfather said, wiping condensation out of his moustache with his left hand, ‘is a country called Morevish, which is where our people used to live. That was over two hundred years ago, by the way; for what it’s worth, Morevish isn’t even part of the Empire now, it broke away a long time ago.’
    Ciartan frowned. ‘Broke away?’
    â€˜Rebelled. The people decided they didn’t want to belong to the Empire any more, so they chased out the Empire’s soldiers and became a free nation.’
    â€˜Oh, I see,’ Ciartan replied, dismissing the image that had formed in his mind of a huge crack appearing in the ground, and the whole country slowly breaking away and drifting off into the sea.
    â€˜At the time our people still lived there, though,’ Grandfather went on, ‘Morevish was still a province of the Empire, and the Imperial governors – that’s the men who ran the country – were very harsh and cruel to our people. Every year they sent soldiers to steal a third of our corn, lambs and calves, and anybody who wouldn’t give them what they wanted was dragged away and had his hands cut off, or even his head.’
    Ciartan shuddered at the horror of such an idea. ‘That’s awful,’ he said. ‘So why didn’t our people chase out the soldiers then, instead of later?’
    Grandfather shrugged. ‘Back then, the Empire was still strong,’ he said. ‘Later on, they got weak, because they were always quarrelling among themselves, and when that happened the people of Morevish were able to get rid of them. But we’re getting ahead of the story.’
    â€˜Sorry,’ Ciartan said. ‘Please go on.’
    A single solitary buzzard was wheeling in the air below them. It felt strange to be higher up than a bird.
    â€˜At the time I’m talking about,’ Grandfather said carefully, ‘two hundred years ago or more, our people still believed in gods. We don’t do that any more, of course, just as you stopped believing in trolls and goblins when you were six. It’s part of growing up.’
    Ciartan nodded; though, to tell the truth, he still hadn’t made up his mind about trolls. On the one hand, it didn’t make sense to have people who turned to stone if they went out in the sun. On the other hand, he was almost sure he’d seen one once in the distance, on a bright moonlit night, when he and Grandfather had been out with the long-net.
    â€˜They used to believe in lots of gods,’ Grandfather was saying, ‘but their favourite god, the one they believed in the most, was a god called Polden. Now, the way with gods is that each of them’s supposed to be in charge of something – like Grandma’s in charge of the jam cupboard and the linen chest, or I’m in charge of the smithy. Polden was in charge of lots of things all at the same time, which was why our people believed in him so much. Polden was in charge of everything that had to do with fire; from keeping the house warm and cooking the dinner to making nails and horseshoes in the forge, right across to the fire that burns down houses when people fight each other. That made him different from the other gods; because, you see, all the other gods were either good or bad, depending on whether they were in charge of a good thing, like farming or making something, or a bad thing, like fighting. But Polden was both good and bad, all at the same time – because, you see, fire can be useful or it can be dangerous, and even when it’s useful it’s still dangerous, because if you’re not careful when you’re cooking the dinner you can set light to the chimney and set the thatch on fire, and the house’ll burn down.’
    Ciartan nodded sagely; he could understand that. In fact,