Noyock went down the stairs to the second floor (remembering, proudly, that his farm and cattlefields had been so successful that he was the first in the whole of Heaven City to have a house with three floors. And a basement) and then turned, going up the hall to the small room that was Hoom's own, unshared with his sisters or his brothers.

"And that," said Aven's voice, now low and fierce with the exertion of the whipping, "is what happens to boys who disobey. And that," with the fall of the strap again, "is what happens to boys who lie!"

Noyock stood in the door. Hoom was kneeling at his bed, soundless as his father brought the strap down again on his naked back. Large welts were rising, but Noyock calculated that Aven could be hitting a good deal harder, and so didn't intervene, only walked in a little farther and cheerfully said, "That brings the count to eleven."

Aven brought the strap down again. "Let's make it an even dozen then, and be done."

He took the strap and hooked it through his belt, then faced his father. "Well, father," Aven said, "you see how my patience has finally been pushed too far."

"I do indeed," said Noyock. "And what did the boy do this time?"

"I come here in the morning to wake him, and find him in here half–dressed. I think, ‘The boy's getting up early to help,' and come in to give him a hug and clap him a good–morning, and by damn his clothes are wet! Been down by the river again! Down playing water games with that little bastard Wix, no doubt. But I says to him, ‘Did you sleep well?' And he says to me, ‘Very well, father. Didn't stir all the night long.' And I'll not put up with being disobeyed and lied to on top of it all!"

"So I see. Well, the boy's strapped well, now, isn't he?"

"And I hope it hurts him long enough that he learns to obey his father." And with that Aven stalked righteously out of the room.

Now, in the silence that followed, Noyock could hear the boy's labored breathing. Crying? Either that or trying very hard not to, which amounts to the same, Noyock decided. But no need to let the boy wallow in it. Good cheer: "Well, Hoom, my boy, today's Jason's homecoming."

Grunt from the face in the blankets.

"And today your grandfather's been Warden for one solid year. Four to go. Better this time than the first. What do you think, will Jason have me out, or keep me on?"

No answer at all.

"I suppose that's a trivial question to you right now, Hoom. But it plagues me a far sight more than anything else right now. What's troubling you? I know the pain's a trifle to you — what's your sorrow?"

Mumbles.

"And only God heard that remark. Have you nothing to say to me?"

Hoom lifted his face from the blanket. His cheeks were tear–streaked, but his eyes were aflame with hatred. "I want to kill him," the boy hissed. "I want to kill him!"

The words were like knives to Noyock, who couldn't bear such words being said within his family. But he only smiled. "Ah, it isn't the pain at all, then, is it, because if it was the blows, you'd only want to thrash him. It's the shame, isn't it, of being beaten."

Hoom started to argue, then thought better of it, and Noyock took note of the boy's increasing maturity, that he'd change his mind so readily when he knew the other side had the truth. "Yes," Hoom said. "It's the shame."

"Well, Jason's coming today, and all shames are forgotten."

"Not all," Hoom said. "He forbids me to spend time with Wix."

"He's your father."

"Father or not, Wix is my friend! I didn't choose my own damn father! And I did choose my friend!"

"Well, you're thirteen," said Noyock. "In only eleven months you'll be fourteen, and come of age, and no father or mother can tell you what to do or not to do."

"But by then Wix'll have it done! And I won't have had a part in it!"

"In what?"

"Logs on the river!"

"Ah," Noyock said. "That again. But Wix is so impractical! Why go out playing on the river, with the current as dangerous and swift as it is, when we have no need to travel on it?"

"But the city'll grow, grandfather! Wix says there'll come a time when a floor of logs on the river will carry cargo from one end of Heaven City to another!"

"You can't even guide your silly logs," Noyock said. "The river isn't an ox, to be tamed by men."

Hoom turned away in ill–hidden disgust. "No, you're as bad as father."

"Probably worse," Noyock said. "I love you like he does, but I haven't the courage to try to stop you from drowning yourself. If it was up to me, I'd say, ‘Let the boys experiment. Let them learn the only way they ever will'."

"I wish you were my father!" Hoom said.

"Too late to arrange that," Noyock answered, laughing. "But go on down to breakfast. Jason's coming today."

Suddenly concerned, Hoom said, "Are my eyes red? Does it show that I was crying?"

"Not a bit. But I'd advise you to put on some clothes, boy. Your mother's likely to belt you a good one if you come naked to breakfast." Hoom laughed, and so did Noyock; and the Warden left the room, wishing that all the unhappy people in Heaven City could be so easily comforted.

Breakfast was placid, except when Aven started telling how Niggo the tailor had nearly beaten Wix within an inch of his life, because the boy had been teaching Niggo's nine–year–old daughter to swim. "That'll teach young hooligans to keep their hands off young children."

The point of the remark was too sharp to miss, and Hoom piped up in his changing voice, "She asked him to teach her. He didn't want to, but she pestered him until he did."

"Nevertheless," Aven pontificated, "if Jason had meant for human beings to swim, he'd have given us scales and fins."

Hoom's eyes flashed with anger, and he said sarcastically, "And if God had meant for men to plow, he'd have given you blades for feet."

Aven grew furious immediately, and a crisis was averted by the arrival of the bacon and Noyock's loud laughter. "My son and my grandson, both prizes for their wit!" The desire for a quarrel passed quickly, and overzealous mouths were soon filled with dripping fat. "I say that even if hogs are disgusting creatures," Aven commented with his mouth full, "they're certainly good once they're dead!"

And Noyock answered, his mouth even fuller, "And let us say the same for fat men, too!" and everyone laughed, for they had nothing but contempt for the tailors and weavers and woodcarvers who sat all day at their tasks, while Noyock and Aven and all their family, keepers of cattle and tillers of fields, considered loose skin at their waist to be a sign that they'd been slacking.

The breakfast over, they gathered cloaks against the wind and headed out of the house, down the dirt road, and joined the crowd trickling along the new road that was generally called Noyock's Road. Noyock was justly proud of it — for though Cooter the wagonmaster had suggested the idea to two other Wardens, only Noyock had caught the vision of it, and found a way to do it.

The trouble had been that no one wanted to donate time just to spread small rocks over the surface of the road. So Noyock had assessed, not time, but goods from the older, wealthier people, and had paid those goods to younger men whose farms were not yet producing, or who were still learning the trade. That way the older men didn't have to waste their time on a public job, while the younger men could work for the general good — and not starve in the process.

The result was good. A summer of frequent rain had proved it: while every other road in Heaven City was a morass of mud, Noyock's Road, which led from the Main Town, past Noyock's Town, over the crest of the hill, and down to Linkeree's Bay — the water ran right off or soaked right through, and not a wagon was stuck all summer. And now, with the evidence before their eyes, there'd been no trouble persuading the people to spread the small stones on all the streets of Main Town , and much of Wienway Road — clear to the forge. Jason would be pleased.