Shadow and Betrayal

improper stance or scratching.
    ‘Today, we are turning the soil in the west gardens,’ Otah barked. Some of the smaller boys flinched. ‘Tahi-kvo demands the work be finished and that you be cleaned by midday. Follow!’
    He marched them out to the gardens. Twice, he stopped to be sure they were in the proper order. When one - Navi Toyut, son of a high family of the utkhaiem in Yalakeht - was out of step, Otah slapped him smartly across the face. The boy corrected his gait.
    The west gardens were brown and bare. Dry sticks - the winter corpses of last year’s crop - lay strewn on the ground, the pale seedlings of weeds pushing up through them. Otah led them to the toolshed where the youngest boys brushed spider webs off the shovels and spades.
    ‘Begin at the north end!’ Otah shouted, and the cohort fell into place. The line was ragged, some boys taller than others and all unevenly spaced, leaving gaps in the line like missing milk teeth. Otah walked along, showing each boy where to stand and how to hold his shovel. When they were all in their places, Otah gave the sign to begin.
    They set to, their thin arms working, but they were small and not strong. The smell of fresh earth rose, but only slowly. When Otah walked the turned soil behind them, his boots barely sank into it.
    ‘Deeper!’ he snapped. ‘Turn the soil, don’t just scrape it. Worms could do better than this.’
    The cohort didn’t speak, didn’t look up, only leaned harder onto the dry, rough shafts of their spades. Otah shook his head and spat.
    The sun had risen a hand and a half, and they had only completed two plots. As the day warmed, the boys shed their top robes, leaving them folded on the ground. There were still six plots to go. Otah paced behind the line, scowling. Time was running short.
    ‘Tahi-kvo wants this done by midday!’ Otah shouted. ‘If you disappoint him, I’ll see all of you beaten.’
    They struggled to complete the task, but by the time they reached the end of the fourth plot, it was clear that it wouldn’t happen. Otah gave stern orders that they should continue, then stalked off to find Tahi-kvo.
    The teacher was overseeing a cohort that had been set to clean the kitchens. The lacquered rod whirred impatiently. Otah took a pose of apology before him.
    ‘Tahi-kvo, the third cohort will not be able to turn the soil in the west gardens by midday. They are weak and stupid.’
    Tahi-kvo considered him, his expression unreadable. Otah felt his face growing warm with embarrassment. At last, Tahi-kvo took a formal pose of acceptance.
    ‘It will wait for another day, then,’ he said. ‘When they have had their meal, take them back out and let them finish the task.’
    Otah took a pose of gratitude until Tahi-kvo turned his attention back to the cohort he was leading, then Otah turned and walked back out to the gardens. The third cohort had slacked in his absence, but began to work furiously as Otah came near. He stepped into the half-turned plot and stared at them.
    ‘You have cost me an afternoon with Milah-kvo,’ Otah said, his voice low, but angry enough to carry. None of the boys would meet his gaze, guilty as dogs. He turned to the nearest boy - a thin boy with a spade in his hand. ‘You. Give me that.’
    The boy looked panicked, but held out the spade. Otah took it and thrust it down into the fresh soil. The blade sank only half way. Otah’s shoulders curled in rage. The boy took a pose of apology, but Otah didn’t acknowledge it.
    ‘You’re meant to turn the soil! Turn it! Are you too stupid to understand that?’
    ‘Otah-kvo, I’m sorry. It’s only—’
    ‘If you can’t do it like a man, you can do it as a worm. Get on your knees.’
    The boy’s expression was uncomprehending.
    ‘Get on your knees!’ Otah shouted, leaning into the boy’s face. Tears welled up in the boy’s eyes, but he did as he was told. Otah picked up a clod of dirt and handed it to him. ‘Eat it.’
    The boy looked at the clod in his hand, then up at Otah. Then, weeping until his shoulders shook, he raised the dirt to his mouth and ate. The others in the cohort were standing in a circle, watching silently. The boy’s mouth worked, mud on his lips.
    ‘All of it!’ Otah said.
    The boy took another mouthful, then collapsed, sobbing, to the ground. Otah spat in disgust and turned to the others.
    ‘Get to work!’
    They scampered back to their places, small arms and legs working furiously with the vigor of fear. The