earnest. But I wasn't
going to lose her that easily again. I rose and managed two strides
before the floor rocked beneath me and I went to my knees. I
remained there a bit, head hanging like a dog. I didn't think she'd
be impressed if I crawled after her. She'd probably kick me. If I
could even find her. I crawled back to my bed instead, and
clambered back onto it. I didn't undress, but just dragged the edge
of my blanket over me. My vision dimmed, closing in black from the
edges, but I didn't sleep right away. Instead, I lay there and
thought what a stupid boy I had been last summer. I had courted a
woman, thinking that I was walking out with a girl. Those three
years difference in age had mattered so much to me, but in all the
wrong ways. I had thought she had seen me as a boy, and despaired
of winning her. So I had acted like a boy, instead of trying to
make her see me as a man. And the boy had hurt her, and yes,
deceived her, and in all likelihood, lost her forever. The dark
closed down, blackness everywhere but for one whirling
spark.
She had loved the boy, and foreseen a life
together for us. I clung to the spark and sank into
sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dilemmas
AS REGARDS THE Wit and the Skill, I
suspect that every human has at least some capacity. I have seen
women rise abruptly from their tasks to go into an adjacent room
where an infant is just beginning to awake. Cannot this be some
form of the Skill? Or witness the wordless cooperation that arises
among a crew that has long tended the same vessel. They function,
without spoken words, as closely as a coterie, so that the ship
becomes almost a beast alive, and the crew her life force. Other
folk sense an affinity for certain animals, and express it in a
crest or in the names they bestow upon their children. The Wit
opens one to that affinity. The Wit allows awareness of all
animals, but folklore insists that most Wit users eventually
develop a bond with one certain animal. Some tales recount that
users of the Wit eventually took on the ways and finally the form
of the beasts they bonded to. These tales, I believe, we can
dismiss as scare tales to discourage children from Beast
magic.
I awoke in the afternoon. My room was cold. No
fire at all. My sweaty clothes clung to me. I staggered downstairs
to the kitchen, ate something, went out to the bathhouse, began
trembling, and went back up to my room. I got back into my bed,
shaking with cold. Later someone came in and talked to me. I don't
remember what was said, but I do remember being shaken. It was
unpleasant, but I could ignore it and did.
I awoke in early evening. There was a fire in my
hearth, and a neat pile of firewood in the hod. A little table had
been drawn up near my bed, and some bread and meat and cheese was
set out on a platter atop an embroidered cloth with tatted edges. A
fat pot with brewing herbs in the bottom was waiting for water from
the very large kettle steaming over the fire. A washtub and soap
were set out on the other side of the hearth. A clean nightshirt
had been left across the foot of my bed; it wasn't one of my old
ones. It might actually fit me.
My gratitude outweighed my puzzlement. I managed
to get out of bed and take advantage of everything. Afterward I
felt much better. My dizziness was replaced by a feeling of
unnatural lightness, but that quickly succumbed to the bread and
cheese. The tea had a hint of elfbark in it; I instantly suspected
Chade and wondered if he was the one who'd tried to wake me. But
no, Chade only summoned me at night.
I was dragging the clean nightshirt over my head
when the door opened quietly. The Fool came slipping into my room.
He was in his winter motley of black and white, and his colorless
skin seemed even paler because of it. His garments were made of
some silky fabric, and cut so loosely that he looked like a stick
swathed in it. He'd gotten taller, and even thinner, if that were
possible. As always, his white eyes were a shock, even in
going to lose her that easily again. I rose and managed two strides
before the floor rocked beneath me and I went to my knees. I
remained there a bit, head hanging like a dog. I didn't think she'd
be impressed if I crawled after her. She'd probably kick me. If I
could even find her. I crawled back to my bed instead, and
clambered back onto it. I didn't undress, but just dragged the edge
of my blanket over me. My vision dimmed, closing in black from the
edges, but I didn't sleep right away. Instead, I lay there and
thought what a stupid boy I had been last summer. I had courted a
woman, thinking that I was walking out with a girl. Those three
years difference in age had mattered so much to me, but in all the
wrong ways. I had thought she had seen me as a boy, and despaired
of winning her. So I had acted like a boy, instead of trying to
make her see me as a man. And the boy had hurt her, and yes,
deceived her, and in all likelihood, lost her forever. The dark
closed down, blackness everywhere but for one whirling
spark.
She had loved the boy, and foreseen a life
together for us. I clung to the spark and sank into
sleep.
CHAPTER FOUR
Dilemmas
AS REGARDS THE Wit and the Skill, I
suspect that every human has at least some capacity. I have seen
women rise abruptly from their tasks to go into an adjacent room
where an infant is just beginning to awake. Cannot this be some
form of the Skill? Or witness the wordless cooperation that arises
among a crew that has long tended the same vessel. They function,
without spoken words, as closely as a coterie, so that the ship
becomes almost a beast alive, and the crew her life force. Other
folk sense an affinity for certain animals, and express it in a
crest or in the names they bestow upon their children. The Wit
opens one to that affinity. The Wit allows awareness of all
animals, but folklore insists that most Wit users eventually
develop a bond with one certain animal. Some tales recount that
users of the Wit eventually took on the ways and finally the form
of the beasts they bonded to. These tales, I believe, we can
dismiss as scare tales to discourage children from Beast
magic.
I awoke in the afternoon. My room was cold. No
fire at all. My sweaty clothes clung to me. I staggered downstairs
to the kitchen, ate something, went out to the bathhouse, began
trembling, and went back up to my room. I got back into my bed,
shaking with cold. Later someone came in and talked to me. I don't
remember what was said, but I do remember being shaken. It was
unpleasant, but I could ignore it and did.
I awoke in early evening. There was a fire in my
hearth, and a neat pile of firewood in the hod. A little table had
been drawn up near my bed, and some bread and meat and cheese was
set out on a platter atop an embroidered cloth with tatted edges. A
fat pot with brewing herbs in the bottom was waiting for water from
the very large kettle steaming over the fire. A washtub and soap
were set out on the other side of the hearth. A clean nightshirt
had been left across the foot of my bed; it wasn't one of my old
ones. It might actually fit me.
My gratitude outweighed my puzzlement. I managed
to get out of bed and take advantage of everything. Afterward I
felt much better. My dizziness was replaced by a feeling of
unnatural lightness, but that quickly succumbed to the bread and
cheese. The tea had a hint of elfbark in it; I instantly suspected
Chade and wondered if he was the one who'd tried to wake me. But
no, Chade only summoned me at night.
I was dragging the clean nightshirt over my head
when the door opened quietly. The Fool came slipping into my room.
He was in his winter motley of black and white, and his colorless
skin seemed even paler because of it. His garments were made of
some silky fabric, and cut so loosely that he looked like a stick
swathed in it. He'd gotten taller, and even thinner, if that were
possible. As always, his white eyes were a shock, even in
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