Across the Face of the World by Russell Kirkpatrick Read Free Book Online Page A

invocation of summer, coming at midnight.
    Tradition might point to the invocation as being the highlight of Midwinter's Day, but for most of the revellers the true high¬light would be trying to eat as much of the vast amount of food as possible. As a rule winter fare was bland and soon became unap¬petising, and many villagers consoled themselves throughout autumn and winter with dreams of the Midwinter Feast. And what a feast it would be! Although for some unexplained reason the old farmer Kurr would not be providing the mutton this year, meat from various farms had been promised. Hogget from the downs, hare from the coastal clifflands, and tasty venison from the borders of the deep woods miles to the north. Sweets came from the cupboards and pans of the women of the village: light scones, crunchy biscuits sparingly seasoned with precious spices bought from the Vapnatak market, honey cakes, sticky sweetmeats, toffee and dried fruit.
    The drink, supplied ostensibly to aid in digestion of the food, was traditionally laid down in the autumn of the previous year. It was considered bad luck if one lapsed into unconsciousness during the celebrations, so few people became offensively drunk. On the other hand, wine and ale were not regular parts of the villagers' diets, so little would be left over at the end of the night.
    Music was an important part of the festival. This year, as well as the regular musicians from the Vale, a well-known family of singers from Oln in the faraway south were wintering over with Prester up at Longacre, and had promised to put in an appearance if the weather permitted. As the evening progressed, people would join the musicians in song and dance.
    The stately dances of the North March allowed even those who had overindulged to partici¬pate, and eventually all present would be coaxed or cajoled into singing and dancing right up to the time of the Play and the Speech.
    Midwinter had been celebrated from time immemorial. The custom probably had its origins as some simple, spontaneous cele¬bration of the turning of the tide, an acknowledgement that from here on the days would get longer, even though the worst of the winter was yet to come; an expression of faith in summer in spite of the evidence all around. Like all such things it had become a tradition, unquestioned by those who took part in it. All over the northlands of Firanes, and in cold, dark places throughout northern Faltha, the custom was played out on the shortest day of the year. In ways such as these winter was made bearable.
    The observances at Midwinter and Midsummer were the nearest the northerners of Firanes came to participating in organised reli¬gion. They all knew that the Most High had chosen them from all the races of the world many thousands of years ago, and had given them Faltha as a mark of His favour. But it was said by those who thought deeply about these things that the Most High now had little to do with the world of men. Certainly, if He was inter¬ested in anyone, it would hardly be in a few northern farmers. And for that the farmers and their families were thankful: wrestling with nature was difficult enough without involving the Most High. Midsummer and Midwinter were really symbols of the victory of humanity over nature, a demonstration of how stubborn persist¬ence could blunt the sharp edge of the wilderness.
    The Most High - if indeed He existed at all - had obviously left the people of the north to their own devices. And they had made a good fist of things without Him.
    The morning before Midwinter found Leith up early. It was his turn to prepare breakfast, and he was busy frying bread dipped in eggs when he heard a knock on the door. Frowning, he took the pan off the heat and went to answer it.
    Out in the moonlit yard waited the lightly clad figure of Kurr. When the door opened, he stepped boldly inside and stamped up and down to rid his legs of their numbness.
    'Where's your mother, boy?' he asked harshly. 'Get