Gabe had little interest in babies. He would rather talk to Frolic, the old, overweight dog asleep on the floor, than to Matthew and Annabelle, with their grabby hands and screechy giggles. He was relieved when Kira finally took them off to bed. It amused him that Jonas kissed their sweaty little necks and called night-night affectionately as they toddled off with their mother.
But still. Still. He felt an enormous sadness that he didn’t entirely understand, when he watched Kira with her children. He felt a loss, a hole in his own life. Had anyone—all right: any woman—ever murmured to him that way, or brushed crumbs gently from his cheek? Had anyone ever mothered him? Jonas had told him no. “A manufactured product,” Jonas had said, describing his origins sadly.
But he thought he remembered something else. A dim blur, that’s all; but it was there. Someone had held him, had whispered to him. Someone had loved him once. He was sure of it. He was sure he could find it. Could find her. If only the stupid boat . . .
“Try to stay awake, Gabe. I know it’s been a long day. But I want to talk to you.”
He had been drifting off. Gabe shook himself fully awake and took another sip from his cup of tea. “About Trade Mart?” he asked. “I barely remember it. Just listening to people talk about it. It was creepy in some way. But kind of exciting. We always wanted to sneak in, me and the other boys.”
“It had been going on for years,” Jonas described. “I never paid much attention to it until I became Leader. Then I began to see that . . .” He paused when Kira came into the room, carrying a cup of tea. She sat down in a nearby chair.
“I’m telling Gabe about Trade Mart.”
Kira nodded. “I wasn’t here then,” she told Gabe, “but Jonas has described it to me.” She made a face and shivered slightly. “Scary.”
Gabe didn’t say anything. He wondered why they were talking about an event that had ended years before.
“It had always seemed to me like a simple entertainment,” Jonas said. “Everyone got dressed up. There was a lot of merriment to their preparations. But as I got older I began to sense that there was always a nervousness to it, an uneasiness. So when I became Leader I began going, to watch.”
Gabe yawned. “So what happened, exactly?” he asked politely.
“It was a kind of ritualized thing. Every now and then this man appeared in the village—he always wore strange clothes, and talked in an odd, convoluted way. He was called Trademaster. He got up on the stage and called people forward one by one. Then he invited them to make trades.”
“Trades?” Gabe asked. “Meaning what?”
“Well, people would tell him what they most wanted. They’d say it loudly. Everyone could hear. And then they told him what they were willing to trade for it. But they whispered that part.”
Gabe looked puzzled. “Give me an example,” he said.
“Suppose it was your turn. You would go to the stage, and tell Trademaster what you wanted most. What might you ask for?”
Gabe hesitated. He couldn’t put into words, really, the thing he truly wanted. Finally he shrugged. “A good boat, I guess.”
“And then you would whisper to him what you were willing to trade away in order to get it.”
Gabe made a face. “I don’t have anything.”
“Most people think that. And they thought that, then. But they found otherwise. He suggested to them that they trade parts of themselves.”
Gabe sat up straighter, more awake, intrigued now. “Like a finger or something? Or an ear? There’s a woman here in the village who only has one ear. The other got chopped off before she came here. As punishment for something, I think. There are places that do those kinds of horrible punishments.”
“I know. And I know the woman you mean. You’re right. She escaped from a place with a cruel government.
“But Trademaster was asking for something different. You had to trade—let me think how to describe it—part of your basic character.”
“Like what?”
“Well, if you wanted a boat, he’d be able to provide that. But let’s think about your character, Gabe. You’re—what? Energetic, I’d say.”
“And smart. I do pretty well in school.”
“Honest. Likable.”
“Well, I’m honest. That’s true. I’m not always likable. I’m pretty mean to Simon sometimes.”
Jonas chuckled. “Well, you’re energetic. Agreed?”
“Yes. I’m energetic.”
“Let’s use that, just for the example. Suppose Trademaster could give you a really fine boat, Gabe. You’d have to trade for it, though. You’d have to trade your energy. You’d be on the stage. He’d whisper to you what the trade would consist of. No one would be able to hear. Just you. But then he’d say loudly: ‘Trade?’ And you’d have to reply.”
“Easy. A fine boat? I’d say, ‘Trade!’”
“He’d write it down.”
“And I’d get my boat.”
“You would. I never knew of anyone asking for a boat, so I don’t know how it would appear. But he had amazing powers. Probably a fine boat would be waiting for you the next day, at the river.”
“Yes!” Gabe was wide awake now, fascinated by the thought of how easily he might have obtained a boat.
“But don’t forget: you would have made a trade for it. And your energy would have been taken from you. You might wake up the next morning and be unable to get out of bed.”
“So I’d rest for a day till I felt energetic.”