Read Online The wind's twelve quarters - vol 2 by Ursula K. Le Guin - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ursula K. Le Guin
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silent, watching ahead for the
dark line of forest across the vague grey miles of starlit plain.
They
neared the black line, crossed it; now under them was darkness.
She
sought a landing place, flying low, though she had to fight her frantic wish to
fly high, to get out, get away. The huge vitality of the plant-world was far
stronger here in the forest, and its panic beat in immense dark waves. There
was a pale patch ahead, a bare knoll-top a little higher than the tallest of
the black shapes around it; the not-trees; the rooted; the parts of the whole.
She set the helijet down in the glade, a bad landing. Her hands on the stick
were slippery, as if she had rubbed them with cold soap.
About
them now stood the forest, black in darkness.
Tomiko
cowered and shut her eyes. Eskwana moaned in his sleep. Harfex's breath came
short and loud, and he sat rigid, even when Osden reached across him and slid
the door open.
Osden
stood up; his back and bandaged head were just visible in the dim glow of the
control panel as he paused stooping in the doorway.
Tomiko
was shaking. She could not raise her head. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no,' she
said in a whisper. 'No. No. No.'
Osden
moved suddenly and quietly, swinging out of the doorway, down into the dark. He
was gone.
I
am coming! said
a great voice that made no sound.
Tomiko
screamed. Harfex coughed; he seemed to be trying to stand up, but did not do
so.
Tomiko
drew in upon herself, all centered in the blind eye in her belly, in the center
of her being; and outside that there was nothing but the fear.
It
ceased.
She
raised her head; slowly unclenched her hands. She sat up straight. The night
was dark, and stars shone over the forest. There was nothing else.
'Osden,'
she said, but her voice would not come. She spoke again, louder, a lone
bullfrog croak. There was no reply.
She
began to realize that something had gone wrong with Harfex. She was trying to
find his head in the darkness, for he had slipped down from the seat, when all
at once, in the dead quiet, in the dark rear compartment of the craft, a voice
spoke. 'Good', it said.
It
was Eskwana's voice. She snapped on the interior lights and saw the engineer
lying curled up asleep, his hand half over his mouth.
The
mouth opened and spoke. 'All well,' it said. 'Osden-'
'All
well,' said the soft voice from Eskwana's mouth. 'Where are you?'
Silence.
'Come
back.'
A
wind was rising. 'I'll stay here,' the soft voice said.
'You
can't stay—'
Silence.
'You'd
be alone, Osden!'
'Listen'.
The voice was fainter, slurred, as if lost in the sound of wind. 'Listen. I
will you well.'
She
called his name after that, but there was no answer. Eskwana lay still. Harfex
lay stiller.
'Osden!'
she cried, leaning out the doorway into the dark, windshaken silence of the
forest of being. 'I will come back. I must get Harfex to the base. I will come
back, Osden!'
Silence
and wind in leaves.
They
finished the prescribed survey of World 4470, the eight of them; it took them
forty-one days more. Asnanifoil and one or another of the women went into the
forest daily at first, searching for Osden in the region around the bare knoll,
though Tomiko was not in her heart sure which bare knoll they had landed on
that night in the very heart and vortex of terror. They left piles of supplies
for Osden, food enough for fifty years, clothing, tents, tools. They did not go
on searching; there was no way to find a man alone, hiding, if he wanted to
hide, in those unending labyrinths and dim corridors vine-entangled,
root-floored. They might have passed within arm's reach of him and never seen
him.
But
he was there; for there was no fear any more.
Rational,
and valuing reason more highly after an intolerable experience of the immortal
mindless, Tomiko tried to understand rationally what Osden had done. But the
words escaped her control. He had taken the fear into himself, and, accepting,
had transcended it. He had given up his self to the alien, an
dark line of forest across the vague grey miles of starlit plain.
They
neared the black line, crossed it; now under them was darkness.
She
sought a landing place, flying low, though she had to fight her frantic wish to
fly high, to get out, get away. The huge vitality of the plant-world was far
stronger here in the forest, and its panic beat in immense dark waves. There
was a pale patch ahead, a bare knoll-top a little higher than the tallest of
the black shapes around it; the not-trees; the rooted; the parts of the whole.
She set the helijet down in the glade, a bad landing. Her hands on the stick
were slippery, as if she had rubbed them with cold soap.
About
them now stood the forest, black in darkness.
Tomiko
cowered and shut her eyes. Eskwana moaned in his sleep. Harfex's breath came
short and loud, and he sat rigid, even when Osden reached across him and slid
the door open.
Osden
stood up; his back and bandaged head were just visible in the dim glow of the
control panel as he paused stooping in the doorway.
Tomiko
was shaking. She could not raise her head. 'No, no, no, no, no, no, no,' she
said in a whisper. 'No. No. No.'
Osden
moved suddenly and quietly, swinging out of the doorway, down into the dark. He
was gone.
I
am coming! said
a great voice that made no sound.
Tomiko
screamed. Harfex coughed; he seemed to be trying to stand up, but did not do
so.
Tomiko
drew in upon herself, all centered in the blind eye in her belly, in the center
of her being; and outside that there was nothing but the fear.
It
ceased.
She
raised her head; slowly unclenched her hands. She sat up straight. The night
was dark, and stars shone over the forest. There was nothing else.
'Osden,'
she said, but her voice would not come. She spoke again, louder, a lone
bullfrog croak. There was no reply.
She
began to realize that something had gone wrong with Harfex. She was trying to
find his head in the darkness, for he had slipped down from the seat, when all
at once, in the dead quiet, in the dark rear compartment of the craft, a voice
spoke. 'Good', it said.
It
was Eskwana's voice. She snapped on the interior lights and saw the engineer
lying curled up asleep, his hand half over his mouth.
The
mouth opened and spoke. 'All well,' it said. 'Osden-'
'All
well,' said the soft voice from Eskwana's mouth. 'Where are you?'
Silence.
'Come
back.'
A
wind was rising. 'I'll stay here,' the soft voice said.
'You
can't stay—'
Silence.
'You'd
be alone, Osden!'
'Listen'.
The voice was fainter, slurred, as if lost in the sound of wind. 'Listen. I
will you well.'
She
called his name after that, but there was no answer. Eskwana lay still. Harfex
lay stiller.
'Osden!'
she cried, leaning out the doorway into the dark, windshaken silence of the
forest of being. 'I will come back. I must get Harfex to the base. I will come
back, Osden!'
Silence
and wind in leaves.
They
finished the prescribed survey of World 4470, the eight of them; it took them
forty-one days more. Asnanifoil and one or another of the women went into the
forest daily at first, searching for Osden in the region around the bare knoll,
though Tomiko was not in her heart sure which bare knoll they had landed on
that night in the very heart and vortex of terror. They left piles of supplies
for Osden, food enough for fifty years, clothing, tents, tools. They did not go
on searching; there was no way to find a man alone, hiding, if he wanted to
hide, in those unending labyrinths and dim corridors vine-entangled,
root-floored. They might have passed within arm's reach of him and never seen
him.
But
he was there; for there was no fear any more.
Rational,
and valuing reason more highly after an intolerable experience of the immortal
mindless, Tomiko tried to understand rationally what Osden had done. But the
words escaped her control. He had taken the fear into himself, and, accepting,
had transcended it. He had given up his self to the alien, an
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