Read Online The Memory of Earth by Orson Scott Card - Free Book Online
Authors: Orson Scott Card
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between them and Gaballufix had never openly recognized Elya as his brother. That didn’t mean, though, that they couldn’t start behaving more like close kinsmen now. Still, it bothered Nafai that Elemak had never mentioned it and seemed to be concealing it now.
Whether the question bothered him or not, Nafai knew that it would be a very bad idea to ask Elemak about it directly. When Elya wanted anybody to know what he was doing with Gaballufix, he’d tell them. In the meantime, the secret would be safe inside Elya’s head.
A secret inside somebody’s head.
Luet had known that Nafai was in love with Eiadh.Well, it wasn’t all
that
secret—Luet might have guessed it from the way that he looked at her. But there on the front porch of Mother’s house, Luet had said, “
You’re
the bastard,” as if she were answering him for calling
her
a bastard. Only he hadn’t
said
anything. He had only
thought
of her as a bastard. It wasn’t an opinion he had expressed before. He had only thought of it at that moment, because he was annoyed with Luet. Yet she had known.
Was that the Oversoul, too? Not just putting ideas into people’s heads, but also taking them out and telling them to other people? The Oversoul wasn’t just a provider of strange dreams—it was a spy and a gossip as well.
It made Nafai afraid, to think that not only was the Oversoul real, but also that it had the power to read his most secret, transitory thoughts and tell them to someone else. And to someone as repulsive as the little bastard witchgirl, no less.
It frightened him like the first time he went out into the sea by himself. Father had taken them all on a holiday, down to the beach. The first afternoon there, they had all gone out into the sea together, and surrounded by his father and brothers—except Issib, of course, who watched them from his chair on the beach—he had felt the sea play with him, the waves shoving him toward shore, then trying to draw him out again. It was fun, exhilarating. He even dared to swim out to where his feet couldn’t quite touch the bottom, all the while playing with Meb and Elya and Father. A good day, a great day, when his older brothers still liked him. But the next morning he got up early, left the tent and went out to the water alone. He could swim like a fish; he was in no danger. And yet as he walked out into the water he felt an inexplicable unease. The water tugging athim, pushing him; he was only a few meters from shore, and yet with no one else in the water, all by himself, he felt as if he had lost his place, as if he had already been washed out to sea, as if he were caught in the grasp of something so huge that any part of it could swallow him up. He panicked then. He ran to shore, struggling against the water, convinced that it would never let him go, dragging at him, sucking him down. And then he was on the sand, on the dry sand above the tide line, and he fell to his knees and wept because he was safe.
But for those few moments out in the water he had felt the terror of knowing how small and helpless he was, how much power there was in the world, and how easily it could do to him whatever it wanted and there was nothing he could do to resist it.
That was the fear he felt now. Not so strong, not so specific as it had been that day on the beach—but then, he wasn’t a five-year-old anymore, either, and he was better at dealing with fear. The Oversoul wasn’t an old legend, it was alive, and it could force visions into his own parents’ minds and it could search out secrets inside Nafai’s head and tell them to other people, to people that Nafai didn’t like and who didn’t like him.
The worst thing was knowing that the reason why Luet didn’t like him was probably
because
of what the Oversoul had told her about his thoughts. His most private thoughts exposed to this unsympathetic little monster. What next? Would Father’s next vision be Nafai’s fantasies about Eiadh? Worse yet,
Whether the question bothered him or not, Nafai knew that it would be a very bad idea to ask Elemak about it directly. When Elya wanted anybody to know what he was doing with Gaballufix, he’d tell them. In the meantime, the secret would be safe inside Elya’s head.
A secret inside somebody’s head.
Luet had known that Nafai was in love with Eiadh.Well, it wasn’t all
that
secret—Luet might have guessed it from the way that he looked at her. But there on the front porch of Mother’s house, Luet had said, “
You’re
the bastard,” as if she were answering him for calling
her
a bastard. Only he hadn’t
said
anything. He had only
thought
of her as a bastard. It wasn’t an opinion he had expressed before. He had only thought of it at that moment, because he was annoyed with Luet. Yet she had known.
Was that the Oversoul, too? Not just putting ideas into people’s heads, but also taking them out and telling them to other people? The Oversoul wasn’t just a provider of strange dreams—it was a spy and a gossip as well.
It made Nafai afraid, to think that not only was the Oversoul real, but also that it had the power to read his most secret, transitory thoughts and tell them to someone else. And to someone as repulsive as the little bastard witchgirl, no less.
It frightened him like the first time he went out into the sea by himself. Father had taken them all on a holiday, down to the beach. The first afternoon there, they had all gone out into the sea together, and surrounded by his father and brothers—except Issib, of course, who watched them from his chair on the beach—he had felt the sea play with him, the waves shoving him toward shore, then trying to draw him out again. It was fun, exhilarating. He even dared to swim out to where his feet couldn’t quite touch the bottom, all the while playing with Meb and Elya and Father. A good day, a great day, when his older brothers still liked him. But the next morning he got up early, left the tent and went out to the water alone. He could swim like a fish; he was in no danger. And yet as he walked out into the water he felt an inexplicable unease. The water tugging athim, pushing him; he was only a few meters from shore, and yet with no one else in the water, all by himself, he felt as if he had lost his place, as if he had already been washed out to sea, as if he were caught in the grasp of something so huge that any part of it could swallow him up. He panicked then. He ran to shore, struggling against the water, convinced that it would never let him go, dragging at him, sucking him down. And then he was on the sand, on the dry sand above the tide line, and he fell to his knees and wept because he was safe.
But for those few moments out in the water he had felt the terror of knowing how small and helpless he was, how much power there was in the world, and how easily it could do to him whatever it wanted and there was nothing he could do to resist it.
That was the fear he felt now. Not so strong, not so specific as it had been that day on the beach—but then, he wasn’t a five-year-old anymore, either, and he was better at dealing with fear. The Oversoul wasn’t an old legend, it was alive, and it could force visions into his own parents’ minds and it could search out secrets inside Nafai’s head and tell them to other people, to people that Nafai didn’t like and who didn’t like him.
The worst thing was knowing that the reason why Luet didn’t like him was probably
because
of what the Oversoul had told her about his thoughts. His most private thoughts exposed to this unsympathetic little monster. What next? Would Father’s next vision be Nafai’s fantasies about Eiadh? Worse yet,
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