On Blue's waters полностью

I trotted, as I have already written, because I could not keep pace with the Neighbor’s four long legs by walking. But the branches of the twisted trees no longer raked my face, and I am quite certain that there was no place where I was forced to get out Sinew’s knife and cut my way through. If there were anything in the whorl that could have convinced me that the entire episode was a dream, it would be that. It was not a dream however. I knew even then (exactly as I know now) that it was nothing of the kind.

I had hurried after the tall figure of the Neighbor so promptly that I had left my slug gun dangling from the low limb on which I had hung it, but I do not believe I was conscious of that at the time. I would not have been greatly disturbed, I think, if I had been.

By the time we reached their fire, I was panting and sweating despite the cold. There were more shadowy figures seated around it; they wore dark cloaks (or so it seemed to me at the time) and soft-looking hats with wide brims and low crowns. Most were sitting upright, but one lay at full length. He may have been dead; I do not believe he spoke or moved while I was there, and it is conceivable that he was not one of them at all but a fallen log or something of the sort, and that I only imagined that there was a sixth or a seventh who was lying down. If this sounds impossibly vague, you must understand that the fire did not illuminate him, or them, in the way I would have expected.

“Do you know who we are?” the shadowed figure who had come for me asked.

I replied, “My friend He-pen-sheep calls you his Neighbors.”

One of the seated Neighbors inquired, “Who and what do you yourself think we are?”

I said, “I’m from New Viron, a town on the eastern shore of the sea, and I believe that you’re the Vanished People. I mean, I believe that you’re some of the people we call the Vanished People in New Viron.”

Another said, “Then you must tell us who the Vanished People are.” All this was in the Common Tongue.

“You are the people whose whorl this was before our landers came to it,” I said. No one replied, so I continued, fumbling now and then as I tried to find the right words. “The Whorl up there,” I pointed, “that was our whorl. This whorl, which we call Blue now, was your whorl. But we thought something had-had happened to you, because we never see you. Sometimes we find things you made, like that place on the island to the south, though I never did until I found that one. My son Sinew says that he and some other young men found an altar of yours in the forest, a stone table on which you used to sacrifice to the gods of this whorl.”

I waited for one of them to speak.

“Since you haven’t really vanished at all, we’re-I’m very glad that you’ve let me live here with my family. Thank you. Thank you very much.”

They said nothing, and after a while the one who had brought me to their fire indicated by a gesture, a motion of his fingers as if he were drawing words from my mouth, that I should go on talking.

I said, “I’m seeing you here tonight, I realize that, and I’m happy that you gave me this chance to express my gratitude. But I’ve never seen any of you before in twenty years, and most of us think that you’re all dead. I’ll try to tell them that’s a mistake when I get back home.”

As I spoke, I was reminded of Patera Remora’s long, foolish face, and the dark and dusty little sellaria in which we had con- versed, and I said, “I think perhaps our Prolocutor has seen you. He seems to know something, anyway. I hadn’t realized it until now.”

They remained silent.

I said, “We think your gods are still here. To tell the truth, we’re afraid that they are. I’ve encountered one myself, your sea goddess. I don’t know what you call her.” As I spoke I looked from shadowy face to shadowy face. That was when I realized that they were not made even slightly more visible by the fire. The fire was there. I could see its light on my hands and feel its heat on my cheeks. I do not doubt that its light was shining on my face, as firelight always does; but it did not light them.

Lamely I finished, “Seawrack calls her the Mother. I mean the girl-the young lady that I call Seawrack. I mean, she used to.”

The Neighbor to my left said, “That is one of her names.” He had not spoken before.

“We’re here now,” I said, “we human men and women and children who came out of the Whorl.”

All of them nodded.

“And we’re taking your whorl, or trying to. I don’t blame you for being angry with us for that, but our gods are driving us out, and we have no place else to go. Except for me, I mean. I’m trying to get back to the Whorl, but not to stay. To bring back Patera Silk. Would you like me to tell you who Patera Silk is?”

The Neighbor who had awakened me said, “No. Someone you care about.”

I nodded.