Every banner had a proud name. The wind had other ideas.
Three White Circles
The banner showed Toma one white circle, half of another, and then its back.
He waited.
Above the ridge, five tall poles leaned into the wind. Their bearers stood in a line along the path, holding the banners of the five houses gathered for the spring meeting.
At the foot of the hill, Aya had pressed a folded letter into his hand.
“My brother’s up there. Three white circles. You can’t miss him.”
Toma had thanked her.
Now a long black fold travelled across the cloth and took the circles with it.
He moved farther along the path. Another banner opened just enough to show a patch of white.
Then that disappeared too.
The Wrong Hand
Grass brushed Toma’s boots as he climbed towards the next bearer.
The man held his pole with both hands. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes followed the letter Toma drew from his coat.
“From your sister,” Toma said.
The man loosened one hand, then stopped.
“My sister?”
“Aya.”
“I haven’t a sister called Aya.”
Toma kept hold of the letter.
Above them, the banner cracked sharply. Four white diamonds appeared across its middle before the cloth folded over itself again.
“Sorry,” Toma said. “I couldn’t see the mark.”
The man put his hand back on the pole.
“What’s her brother’s name?”
Toma looked at the folded paper. Aya had tied it with a narrow thread. There was nothing written outside.
“I didn’t ask.”
The man glanced down the slope.
“She hasn’t gone far.”
Aya was still beside the stone trough, adjusting the strap of her bag.
Toma tucked the letter inside his coat and went back down.
A Name This Time
“Did you find him?” Aya asked.
“I found someone else’s brother.”
She looked up at the banners.
“The three circles.”
“They keep going away.”
A gust lifted the loose end of her scarf. She caught it against her neck, watching the cloth twist above the ridge.
“His name’s Ren,” she said. “I should have told you.”
“Anything else?”
“He’ll know me. Tell him I brought the letter from home.”
Toma nodded.
This time, he kept the paper beneath his coat as he climbed. He passed the first two poles and stopped where all five bearers could hear him.
“Ren?”
A man farther along the line turned his head.
“Yes?”
“A letter from your sister.”
“Aya? Is she here?”
“By the trough.”
Ren looked down the slope. Aya raised her hand.
He answered with a nod, then planted the base of his pole more firmly beside his boot. Keeping one hand round the wood, he held out the other.
Toma gave him the letter.
The thread was still tied.
All Five
Ren slipped the letter inside his own coat.
“Thank you.”
“Will you go down?”
“When someone takes my place.”
Toma looked back towards the trough. Aya had settled on its low stone edge. She saw him turn and lifted her eyebrows.
He pointed towards Ren.
She smiled and moved her bag off the space beside her.
Toma started down.
Behind him, the wind changed. A broad rush passed through the grass, lifting it in a silver wave up the slope.
The banners filled.
He turned at the sound.
All five hung open against the pale sky. Every fold had drawn clear of every mark. There were the three circles, bright and complete above Ren’s head.
Beside them, the four diamonds showed just as plainly.
Toma stood with both empty hands at his sides.
For the first time that afternoon, the directions were excellent.
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