And on the Eighth Day by Ellery Queen Read Free Book Online Page A

was the Waterman whose duty it was to keep in good repair the cisterns and catch basins where the scant rains were stored; who saw that the wells were clean, the all-important springs kept open. He attended to the small aqueduct; and he husbanded the water of the irrigation ditches, portioning out what was needed for drinking, cooking, and the communal laundry and bath.
    The Miller. The Miller made use, when there was sufficient water, of a waterwheel to grind the community’s grains and legumes and even pumpkins into meal and flour. When there was no water, the Miller put up his sails and harnessed the winds. And if neither water nor wind was available, he blindfolded beasts so that they might not grow dizzy, and he walked them round and round to turn the millstones.
    The Potter. Crucible Hill contained no clay, but at a distance of less than a day’s journey by donkey, there was a clay pit. The Potter and his assistant turned out and fired the simple utensils of the community’s people, glazing them with salt from a nearby pan. The Potter also made some things apparently needed for religious purposes, but what these were the Teacher did not say.
    And the Slave —
    “The what?” cried Ellery.
    “The Slave,” replied the Teacher with a sigh.
    “You practice slavery ?” Ellery heard his 1944 voice demand. To the ears of Elroï-in-Quenan it sounded brutally harsh and accusing. For in a community that lived a life of near-Biblical primitivity, was it so remarkable—?
    “We merit your reproaches,” the patriarch said humbly. “Yet surely it is known to you that we no longer number slaves among us? This is the last. He is in his eighty-eighth year.”
    “Resting from his labors, no doubt.” First the display of bucolic ethics, then this!
    “The Slave does no labor at all,” the Teacher said. “He serves only by membership in the Crownsil. His needs are cared for by us all.”
    “Decent of you,” muttered Ellery-1944.
    “In expiation. In community expiation.”
    And suddenly it occurred to Ellery that the community might be expiating not its own sins, but those of the nation. Was it possible this “Slave” was one of those who had been freed by the Proclamation or the 13th Amendment? Or was he a survivor of the Indian slavery that persisted in the remote Southwest for a decade or so longer?
    It was likelier, Ellery thought, that he represented some dark chapter in the history of Quenan.
    Quenan.
    What the devil did the name signify? What language had it come from?
    Ellery-1944 grew tired again in the slumbering air and dimness of the building. But the other Ellery—the Elroï—said softly, chin propped in both hands, “Go on Teacher. Please.”
    “Next is one whom you have already met.”
    The Storesman , to whom Ellery had lent his watch, was custodian of community property. Surrounded by the handmade things of his people, Storicai had taken childlike delight in something of alien manufacture.
    The Chronicler. He kept the history, the records, the calendar, the genealogies, and the books of the community. The books consisted mainly of prayers, and these books the Chronicler maintained and repaired.
    The Carpentersmith. In charge of all construction, maintenance, and repair of buildings, furniture, vehicles, and tools.
    The Weaver. This office was currently held by a woman, although it was open to men also. Ellery thinking of Quenan in terms of ancient patriarchal societies, was surprised to learn that women were eligible for all offices.
    The Elders. These were two, a man and a woman; each had to be at least seventy-five years old. They represented the special interests of the community’s aged.
    All matters of community welfare and policy were in the hands of this Crownsil of the Twelve. In any case requiring trial, they served as jury.
    “To the Twelve, and to three others—myself as the Teacher, and to the Successor, and to the Superintendent—and to no others,” said the old man, “belongs the