Messenger by Lois Lowry

dim.
    More than that, the teacher, usually so calm, was now tense, alert, and appeared to be waiting for something.
    â€œWho first?” Trademaster called, and while Matty watched, Mentor raised his hand and waved it frantically, like a schoolboy hoping for a reward. “Me! Me!” the schoolteacher called out in a demanding voice, and as Matty watched, Mentor shoved the people standing in front of him aside so that he would be noticed.
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    Late that night, the blind man listened with a concerned look on his face while Matty described Trade Mart.
    â€œMentor was first, because he raised his hand so fast. And he completely forgot me, Seer. He had been standing with me and we were talking, just as we always have. Then, when they started, it was as if I didn’t exist. He pushed ahead of everyone and went first.”
    â€œWhat do you mean, went first? Where did he go?”
    â€œTo the stage. He pushed through everyone. He shoved and jostled them aside, Seer. It was so odd. Then he went to the stage when Trademaster called his name.”
    The blind man rocked back and forth in his chair. Tonight he had not played music at all. Matty knew he was distressed.
    â€œIt used to be different. People just called out. There was a lot of laughter and teasing the time I went.”
    â€œNo laughter tonight, Seer. Just silence, as if people were very nervous. It was a little scary.”
    â€œAnd what happened when Mentor got to the stage?”
    Matty thought. It had been a little difficult to see through the crowd. “He just stood there. Then Trademaster asked him something, but it was as if he already knew the answer. And then everyone laughed a bit, as if they did, too, but it wasn’t a having-fun kind of laughter. It was a
knowing
kind.”
    â€œCould you hear what he asked?”
    â€œI couldn’t hear that first time, but I know what it was because he asked it of everyone who came up. It was the same each time. Just three words.
Trade for what?
That’s what he asked each time.”
    â€œAnd was the answer the same from everyone?”
    Matty shook his head, then remembered that he had to reply aloud. “No,” he said. “It was different.”
    â€œCould you hear Mentor’s reply?”
    â€œYes. It made everyone laugh in that odd way. Mentor said, ‘Same as before.’”
    The blind man frowned. “Did you get a feel for what that meant?”
    â€œI think so, because everyone looked at Stocktender’s widow, and she blushed. She was near me, so I could see it. Her friends poked at her, teasing, and I heard her say, ‘He needs a few more trades first.’”
    â€œThen what happened?”
    Matty tried to remember the sequence of things. “Trademaster seemed to say yes, or at least to nod his head, and then he opened his book and wrote it in.”
    â€œI’d like to see that book,” the blind man said, and then, laughing at himself, added, “or have you see it, and read it to me.
    â€œWhat came next?”
    â€œMentor stood there. He seemed relieved that Trademaster had written something down for him.”
    â€œHow could you tell?”
    â€œHe smiled and seemed less nervous.”
    â€œThen what?”
    â€œThen everyone got very silent and Trademaster asked, ‘Trade away what?’”
    The blind man thought. “Another three words. Was it the same for each? The same ‘Trade for what?’ and then ‘Trade away what?’”
    â€œYes. But each one said the answer to the first quite loudly, the way Mentor did, but they whispered the answer to the second, so no one could hear.”
    â€œSo it became public, what they were trading for . . .”
    â€œYes, and sometimes the crowd called out in a scornful way. They
jeered.
I think that’s the right word.”
    â€œAnd he wrote each down?”
    â€œNo. Ramon’s mother went up, and when Trademaster asked,