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stopped speaking and nodded to a thin older man who carried a basket of green pearapples. The man nodded with a slight smile as he passed. And? asked Justen. That is the story. Justen pursed his lips and thought. Your story seems to say that if you attempt to force an answer before it is ripe, you will destroy it, just like you would destroy that green nut. Dayala nodded. The question is& how does a stranger, or a near-child who has never seen a Juraba nut, know when the nut is ripe? The shell splits, and you can see the inner husk and the nut pod for yourself. Wonderful. Was that mother your mother? Of course. That is how I know the story. Have you seen the ripe nut? No more than you have, dear man. Justen shivered at the warmth in the words dear man and the admission they contained. Ahead lay a narrow footbridge at the juncture of two paths. Beyond the bridge, the giant monoliths thinned and the cleared area that was Rybatta proper began. Hello, young angels. A small, silver-haired girl cradling a basket filled with waxed packages of cheese and a waxed honeycomb nodded politely, stepping aside to let them cross the narrow span. Harmony be with you, Krysera. Dayala smiled. Justen nodded, and Krysera returned the nod solemnly. After they were out of earshot, Justen asked, So now I m a young angel? Just what does that mean? It s a term of respect. She isn t quite sure of what to call you. Because you live here with me and not in the strangers house, you re not a stranger. You radiate order and power. So you must be a young angel. Dayala shrugged as if the conclusion were obvious. Strangers house? If we had a real stranger, he or she would stay with Yual or Hersa. She is the copper-worker. Diehl has a large strangers house, what you would call an inn. When we travel, we stay in guest houses. So why am I not a stranger? Dayala touched his arm, the spot where only a faint scar remained. *You are not a stranger. Not now& not ever.* The force of the words, felt in his mind, staggered him, and he stumbled. Dayala s hand steadied him for a moment, but her fingers almost seared his skin. He glanced sidelong at her and saw the dampness on her cheeks, and his eyes burned. What was happening? To him? To her? They had walked another hundred cubits when Dayala finally spoke again. Let us go to the river pier. Any reason? I need to speak with& Frysa about how many boxes she will need. They passed the small market stall with the neatly stacked pearapples, the Page 164 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html closed barrels of grains. Down the open but narrow steps in the cooler cellar were the cheeses and the riper fruits. Dayala waved to Serga, the shopkeeper, and the rotund man waved back. Boxes? Your boxes? What does she need them for? To trade. We do trade for some things, like copper, and your woolens from Recluce, although we do not need many warm garments, and mostly the wool is used for other things. So you provide boxes for trade as a way of repaying the great forest and the others in Naclos? Exactly. Dayala laughed softly. You see! You do understand. Sometimes. Only a single boat was tied at the stone pier, and it was empty. Dayala led Justen past the pier and to a small, round building formed by a single tree-not an oak, but a species with which Justen was unfamiliar. Inside, on a stool sat a woman, also silver-haired and green-eyed, but deeply tanned. As she rose, she reminded Justen of Dayala, although he could not say why. Justen, this is Frysa. Justen bowed. I am honored. And he felt that he was, just as he felt that Dayala had not fully explained who Frysa was. You have a handsome soul. Justen flushed, and he glanced at Dayala. She also had colored. He is modest, and that is to the good, for both of you. Dayala nodded before speaking. I forgot to ask how many boxes you will need. A half-score would be enough for now. You will have more time& later. Justen looked out absently at the river, smooth and nearly a hundred cubits wide between the tree-lined banks, and at the single boat. Smooth as the water was, paddling upstream would be difficult. How do you find Naclos? asked Frysa. Seemingly peaceful, and very unsettling. He s honest, too. Justen tried not to blush again, and failed. Already, except for your hair, you look more like us, inside at least, than those of Recluce. Justen shrugged, unsure of how to react. I cannot see that deeply into myself. So I must accept your observation. Frysa reached out, and her fingers brushed his bare wrist. Remember to trust yourself. She looked at Dayala. You must be going. Thank you. You have been very fortunate. Even so, it will be difficult for both of you. She turned to Justen. She is not so strong as you, though it seems otherwise now. Without looking, Justen could feel Dayala blushing. The two women embraced, and as they parted, Justen bowed again. It was good to meet you, and I wish you well. He is also generous. Yes. *Generous of soul, and knows not why& * Justen swallowed at Dayala s unspoken words, wondering if the stray thoughts mat passed between them would only grow stronger, wondering& He shivered. In silence, they walked back past the single boat. How do the boats get upstream? I don t see how they could paddle all that distance. Sometimes we can get the river people-the otters-to pull them, but only if the boats carry no people. The otters will pull light cargoes. So anyone who goes downriver by boat must walk back, or paddle themselves? Yes. But it s not that bad if you can sense the currents. Again, silence dropped between them as they passed the guest house on the square and the small dry-goods store that held linens and the fine, Page 165 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html spider-silk cloth. Frysa s a relative? Justen asked. Yes. Your older sister? Dayala shook her head with an amused smile. Justen shook his. Your mother? Doesn t anyone get old here? Of course. Just more slowly. Aging is a form of chaos, and it can be balanced. Your mother, of course. How stupid of me. He shook his head. Why didn t you tell me? I wanted her to see you as you are. You are honest and open. *And that is rare& * Justen s eyes threatened to water at the damning honesty of her unspoken words. What was happening to him? The great forest insists that you recognize yourself, and that is very difficult. Difficult& He laughed harshly. They had passed the long rows of bean plants at the edge of Rybatta proper before Justen spoke again. How do you make your boxes? By growing them on those bushes? I know. It s more complicated than that, but is that the idea? Dayala nodded. It s work? She nodded again. He shook his head as they walked up the curving path to her house. AH this takes some getting used to. I understand. Dayala stopped in the middle of the main room, dropping her hands. For a long time, Justen looked at her, at the silver hair, the green eyes, and the dark, open orderliness within that screamed out a terrible honesty. Then he eased his arms around her, and her arms went around his waist. Their lips brushed. *Want you& coming to love you& * Justen blushed at the boldness of his thoughts. For a moment, Dayala s lips pressed his, and she squeezed him to her before easing back and holding him almost at arms length. She was breathing heavily. The nut& isn t quite& ripe. Then she wrenched out of his arms and ran into [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |