and was not to be trusted, I defended her hotly. I said that Jane Watson could help us against the Tarns, and that we should not behave like foolish backward villagers, afraid of the new. I said things that make me blush now when I think of them.
Grandmother shook her head and said nothing more. Later she told me that Jane Watson had enchanted me, and there was nothing more to say until the spell was broken. And when the spell did break, Grandmother did not once rebuke me, not by word nor by glance. That hurt almost more than anything else. I think it was Grandmother’s silence that made me decide to find Jane Watson myself, and to bring the Book back where it belonged.
15
When I think back, I can’t quite believe that I made the choice to leave my village so casually. I didn’t consult anyone, not even Grandmother. I just decided, and then I left. I suppose it was partly a question of pride: without the Book, I had no place in the village. I knew that my family didn’t need me: there were my brothers and sisters to care for my grandmother and father as they aged. I was a Keeper of the Book, and so had my place, an important place. When the Book was stolen, I had nothing. I couldn’t face my loss of status. Writing it down, I realize how vain my decision was. I suspect I didn’t speak to my grandmother about it because she would have pointed out my vanity, and underneath I was slightly ashamed of it – although I don’t know whether she would still have approved of my seeking the Book. But at the time I didn’t think about any of this. I just decided, and then I acted.
I took the dinghy that had belonged to my mother and that had become mine when she died, and I packed it with supplies – flatbreads, smoked fish, dried fruits, a big bag of walnuts, drinking water. I filled a purse with my hoarded cache of coins, squirrelled away from my weaving, along with some small things that were precious to me – the gold earrings my grandmother had given me when I was presented at the temple, a bracelet of amber that had belonged to my mother – and tied it around my belly, where it would be safe and hidden. I had a little more money than usual, because Jane Watson’s arrival had meant that I hadn’t spent as much as I normally would at Mizan’s stall. I packed two blankets and some spare clothes and a small, very sharp clasp knife that I kept in a sheath on my belt.
Then I wrote a note for my family, saying that I was going to find the Book, and would send word. I left one morning before first light, a week after Jane Watson. By now it was late summer, but there was as yet no sign of the chills of autumn. I unmoored the dinghy from the pier behind our house and rowed out to the centre of the River; then I shipped the oars and drifted downstream, watching the sun rise. It was a beautiful, clear summer dawn; the air brightened until it was like liquid light, and the River rippled molten gold. Somewhere very high overhead I could hear the lonely twittering of a lark, but that served only to deepen the silence that filled the world.
I realized it was the first time I had been properly alone for many days. Then I thought, with a thrill of excitement that was not unmixed with fear, that I was more alone than I had ever been in my life. I lay back in the dinghy and stared up at the sky. Even though I had just made the most momentous decision of my life, I felt deeply peaceful. I had given my destiny to the River, and for that moment all the guilt and anger and sorrow that had filled me for days melted away.
I had no clear idea what I would do. I thought I’d travel to Kilok and ask if anyone had seen Jane Watson. Yani and Sopli had come back because they couldn’t travel overland, but I thought that Jane Watson would have to come back to the River at some point, because it was still the major road in this part of the world. Beyond Kilok, I really hadn’t thought much. This was partly because Kilok was as far from home
Grandmother shook her head and said nothing more. Later she told me that Jane Watson had enchanted me, and there was nothing more to say until the spell was broken. And when the spell did break, Grandmother did not once rebuke me, not by word nor by glance. That hurt almost more than anything else. I think it was Grandmother’s silence that made me decide to find Jane Watson myself, and to bring the Book back where it belonged.
15
When I think back, I can’t quite believe that I made the choice to leave my village so casually. I didn’t consult anyone, not even Grandmother. I just decided, and then I left. I suppose it was partly a question of pride: without the Book, I had no place in the village. I knew that my family didn’t need me: there were my brothers and sisters to care for my grandmother and father as they aged. I was a Keeper of the Book, and so had my place, an important place. When the Book was stolen, I had nothing. I couldn’t face my loss of status. Writing it down, I realize how vain my decision was. I suspect I didn’t speak to my grandmother about it because she would have pointed out my vanity, and underneath I was slightly ashamed of it – although I don’t know whether she would still have approved of my seeking the Book. But at the time I didn’t think about any of this. I just decided, and then I acted.
I took the dinghy that had belonged to my mother and that had become mine when she died, and I packed it with supplies – flatbreads, smoked fish, dried fruits, a big bag of walnuts, drinking water. I filled a purse with my hoarded cache of coins, squirrelled away from my weaving, along with some small things that were precious to me – the gold earrings my grandmother had given me when I was presented at the temple, a bracelet of amber that had belonged to my mother – and tied it around my belly, where it would be safe and hidden. I had a little more money than usual, because Jane Watson’s arrival had meant that I hadn’t spent as much as I normally would at Mizan’s stall. I packed two blankets and some spare clothes and a small, very sharp clasp knife that I kept in a sheath on my belt.
Then I wrote a note for my family, saying that I was going to find the Book, and would send word. I left one morning before first light, a week after Jane Watson. By now it was late summer, but there was as yet no sign of the chills of autumn. I unmoored the dinghy from the pier behind our house and rowed out to the centre of the River; then I shipped the oars and drifted downstream, watching the sun rise. It was a beautiful, clear summer dawn; the air brightened until it was like liquid light, and the River rippled molten gold. Somewhere very high overhead I could hear the lonely twittering of a lark, but that served only to deepen the silence that filled the world.
I realized it was the first time I had been properly alone for many days. Then I thought, with a thrill of excitement that was not unmixed with fear, that I was more alone than I had ever been in my life. I lay back in the dinghy and stared up at the sky. Even though I had just made the most momentous decision of my life, I felt deeply peaceful. I had given my destiny to the River, and for that moment all the guilt and anger and sorrow that had filled me for days melted away.
I had no clear idea what I would do. I thought I’d travel to Kilok and ask if anyone had seen Jane Watson. Yani and Sopli had come back because they couldn’t travel overland, but I thought that Jane Watson would have to come back to the River at some point, because it was still the major road in this part of the world. Beyond Kilok, I really hadn’t thought much. This was partly because Kilok was as far from home
Similar Books
