The Waters Rising by Sheri S. Tepper Read Free Book Online Page A

hairs pulled out by their roots. Long ones, from the woman.” He lifted them from the branch where they were caught and passed them to her. Xulai stood, staring at them for a long moment, trying to remember everything the woman had said. Ah, yes. She took a handkerchief from her pocket, wound the hairs around her fingers, and folded the linen square around them, replacing it in her pocket. Tomorrow she would tell the Woman Upstairs about having the hair . . .
    With Abasio’s hand on her shoulder, she passed the third pillar and the second, both silent. From the first pillar they could see the castle wall and the orchard gate, closed.
    “Someone is watching from a window,” she whispered. “So if I go back the way I came, she’ll see me. But if I go some other way, I may run into those people. They may even be waiting for me . . .” Her voice trailed into silence.
    “So,” said the chipmunk. “What are you going to do?”
    “I don’t know.” She almost wept, finding in that moment no wonder left over to spend on a talking chipmunk.
    “Stop that!” the chipmunk ordered. “It’s always easier to whine than to do something, but something must be done! Now, figure it out. Think! Velipe vun vuxa . . .”
    “ Duxa vevo duxa, ” Xulai said, finishing the saying. “ ‘Wisdom comes from putting little things together.’ That’s what the Woman Upstairs says, but how did you know, chipmunk?”
    “An interesting saying indeed,” said Abasio, strangely moved. He wanted to sweep this little one up and carry her away into safety and did not trust the feeling! As though some monitor upon his shoulder cautioned him. He said, instead—as he would have said to a much older woman—“Do you think she talked merely to exercise her tongue? Words are useful tools only when one does something with them!”
    Xulai felt suddenly angry. “I don’t have any little things to put together!”
    “Don’t be stupid,” said the chipmunk. “The world is full of little things. You seem to be a little thing; so am I.”
    This, she found, was a surprising new thought. Of course she herself was a little thing—or was considered to be so by too many people—but the surprising thought was that the Woman Upstairs might actually have meant these particular words to be useful! Putting little things together. Actually, the Tingawan words meant “Wisdom comes from piling nothing much on nothing much.” Well, starting with herself, she could put herself on a path, which might be little enough. Then she’d need a way to discover whether the people were still around, then. . .
    “Path,” said chipmunk, reading her intention. “To the right.”
    She examined it. Yes. Very narrow and dark and tree covered, so that no one could see her from above. She moved toward it. Caught in a twig, at eye level, was a bit of cloth.
    “A little thing,” she murmured. “The woman went this way.”
    “And?” demanded the chipmunk.
    “She went,” Xulai said. “The threads are trailing away from me, so she was moving away.”
    “So, if you move slowly?”
    “I won’t catch up to her. Or him.”
    “You might get lost,” the chipmunk jeered.
    “No,” she replied. “The path is just at the edge of the trees. I can see the castle wall.”
    Suddenly the tall white stone beside her asked, “Abasio, is Xulai taking the chipmunk home with her?”
    “Would she be wise to do so?” asked Abasio.
    “I’m afraid my cats . . . ,” murmured Xulai. “They’ll . . .”
    “Nothing of the kind,” said the stone. “The creature will be quite all right in your pocket. Take it. Keep it safe. Nice to hear of you again, Abasio. It’s been too many years since the great battle at the Place of Power. Some of my fellow watchers were there.”
    Xulai’s pocket squirmed briefly, as though in agreement. Xulai, though she realized the stone and her companion were not strangers to one another, was too weary even to wonder at it. What Ushiloma did