Messenger by Lois Lowry Read Free Book Online

are honored to have you among us. Welcome to your new home. Welcome to Village.”
    He turned to the greeters and said, “Do the processing later. They are tired. Take them to their living spaces so they can have baths and food. Let them rest for a while.”
    The greeters encircled the new ones and led them away.
    Then Leader turned to those who remained. “Thank you, those of you who came to give welcome. It is one of the most important things we do in Village.
    â€œThose of you who object? Mentor? You and the others?” He looked at the small group of dissenters. “You have that right, as you know. The right to dissent is one of our most important freedoms here.
    â€œBut the meeting is in four days. Let me suggest that instead of worrying and frightening these new ones, who have just come and are weary and confused, let us wait and see what the meeting decides.
    â€œEven those of you who want to close Village to new ones—even you value the peace and kindness we have always embraced here. Mentor? You seem to be leading this. What do you say?”
    Matty turned to look at Mentor, the teacher who meant so much to him. Mentor was thinking, and Matty was accustomed to seeing him deep in thought, for it was part of his classroom demeanor. He always thought over each question carefully, even the most foolish question from the youngest student.
    Odd, Matty thought. The birthmark across Mentor’s cheek seemed lighter. Ordinarily it was a deep red. Now it seemed merely pink, as if it were fading. But it was late summer. Probably, Matty decided, Mentor’s skin had been tanned by the sun, as his own was; and this made the birthmark less visible.
    Still, Matty was uneasy. Something
else
was different today about Mentor. He couldn’t name the difference, not really. Was it that Mentor seemed slightly
taller?
How strange that would be, Matty thought. But the teacher had always walked with a bit of a stoop. His shoulders were hunched over. People said that he had aged terribly after his beloved wife’s death, when Jean was just a small child. Sadness had done it.
    Today he stood erect and his shoulders were straight. So he
seemed
taller, but wasn’t, Matty decided with relief. It was simply a changed posture.
    â€œYes,” Mentor said to Leader, “we will see what the meeting decides.”
    His voice sounded different, Matty noticed.
    He saw that Leader, too, was noticing something about Mentor and was puzzled. But everyone was turning away now, the crowd dispersing, people returning to their usual daily tasks. Matty ran to catch up with the blind man, who had started walking the familiar path home.
    Behind him he heard an announcement being made. “Don’t forget!” someone was calling out. “Trade Mart tomorrow night!”
    Trade Mart.
With the other things that had consumed Matty’s thoughts recently, he had almost forgotten about Trade Mart.
    Now he decided he would attend.
    Â 
    Trade Mart was a very old custom. No one remembered its beginnings. The blind man said that he had first known of it when he was a newcomer to Village, still an invalid with wounds to be tended. He had lain on a bed in the infirmary, in pain, unseeing, his memory slow to return, and half listened to the conversations of the gentle folk who took care of him.
    â€œDid you go to the last Trade Mart?” he had heard one person ask another.
    â€œNo, I have nothing to trade. Did you?”
    â€œWent and watched. It all seems foolishness to me.”
    He had put it from his mind, then. He had nothing to trade, either. He owned nothing. His torn, blood-stained clothes had been taken from him and replaced. From a cord around his neck dangled an amulet of some sort, and he felt its importance but could not remember why. Certainly he would not trade it for some trinket; it was all he had left of his past.
    The blind man had described all of that to Matty.
    â€œLater I went, just