Free Pattern by K. J. Parker

volcanoes – that’s the foreign word for them – as I do.’
    â€˜Volcanoes.’ Grandfather repeated the word a couple of times, as if trying out a new tool for balance and fit. ‘How is it bad?’
    Poldarn shrugged. ‘I don’t honestly know,’ he admitted. ‘But if that red stuff is fire and the white cloud is steam, chances are it’s melting a lot of the pack snow, at the very least. Has the river ever flooded, do you know?’
    Halder rubbed his chin. ‘Once,’ he said, ‘when I was a boy. But that was just months of heavy rain, and everything got so waterlogged there was nowhere for it to go.’
    â€˜Fine,’ Poldarn replied. ‘All I’m thinking is, if there’s a whole lot of melt water coming off the mountain all at once, it’s got to go somewhere.’
    â€˜Not here,’ Halder said, after a moment’s thought. ‘Come summer thaw, the melt always runs off down the other fork of the valley, out to Lyatsbridge and Colscegsford.’ He pursed his lips. ‘Colsceg’s pretty high up, but I wouldn’t want to be in Lyat’s house if you’re right about a spate coming down.’
    Rook, who’d been listening in on the conversation, said, ‘Maybe I’d better get over there, in case they haven’t figured it for themselves.’
    â€˜The black mare’s saddled,’ Halder replied. ‘I was going to ride back with Colsceg when he went on.’
    Rook hurried off; and Poldarn noticed out of the corner of his eye that the stablehands had the horse outside and waiting for him some time before he reached the stable door. ‘What happens next?’ Halder asked.
    â€˜No idea,’ Poldarn said. ‘You sure it’s never done anything like this before?’
    â€˜Could well have done, before we were here to see it. But not since we’ve been here.’
    They stood and watched for a while, but nothing else seemed to be happening. Gradually, people started drifting away, back to work. They seemed uneasy, though, as if they’d suddenly woken up after an hour’s unscheduled and unexplained sleep. ‘Bloody thing,’ Halder muttered resentfully. ‘Always something.’
    Indeed, Poldarn said to himself; how thoughtless of the mountain to catch on fire, just when everything was going so smoothly. ‘Is Lyatsbridge a big place?’ he asked, by way of making conversation.
    â€˜What? Oh, no, nothing much; not so big as here, or Colscegsford. Lyat was one of Colsceg’s father’s men, struck out on his own thirty years back. He took the ford because nobody wanted it, on account of the flooding.’
    That seemed to cover that. ‘Do you want to stay close to the house, in case something happens?’ he asked.
    Halder shook his head. ‘Don’t suppose there’s anything to worry about,’ he replied, in a voice that suggested he was making it so by saying it out loud. ‘We might as well take that walk down as far as your wood, now you’re here.’
    And sure enough, Colsceg and his offspring were suddenly there, right behind him. Stands to reason they’re invited too, Poldarn thought, since Elja’s going to be living there one day. He looked up at the mountain again, just in case it had stopped performing while his back was turned; but it hadn’t. ‘Maybe Polden fell asleep,’ he suggested, ‘and his chimney caught alight.’
    Halder didn’t bother to reply to that.
    Needless to say, nobody spoke, all the way from the house to the bottom meadow. When they reached the river, the whole party stopped; Poldarn wondered why, then realised that this was the last point from which they’d be able to see the mountain, without the reverse slope of the combe being in the way.
    â€˜Still at it, then,’ Colsceg said.
    He was right; the mountain was still pouring black smoke into the sky, like a