Read Online Voices by Ursula K. Le Guin - Free Book Online Page A

righteousness, worshipping the Burning God.”
    The Waylord’s voice was monotonous and rough, scarcely audible, and I saw that his hands were clenched one in the other.
    “Old traditions of Asudar said that the Night Mouth was in the west, on the coast. Dorid the priest-king in his city Medron ordered the lesser priests of Atth to find this center of darkness. Some thought the mountain Sul itself contained the Night Mouth, but the others said no: Sul, they said, is a volcano, it contains fire and so is sacred to Atth. Opposite it—across the water from it—would be the dark place, the bottomless well of evil. The Night Mouth would be found here, in the city of Ansul.
    “It is supposed to be guarded by a wizard of terrible powers, who can summon armies of evil spirits, the foul emanations of the earth. And the gods of the heathen will gather to defend it, the thousand false gods.
    “So the armies of Asudar were sent to take the country and city of Ansul by force and find the Night Mouth. When it is found, King Dorid will send the Thousand True Men into it with banners of fire, a burning army. Light will banish darkness, and good will vanquish evil.”
    He drew a harsh breath. He bit his lips and looked away from the candle, hiding his face in shadow.
    “I never heard that tale,” Caspro said. His own voice was shaken. He spoke, I think, to give the Waylord time to recover himself. “Tales of how earth is the battlefield of Atth and Obatth, yes. An unending war. And people in the desert knew there was a mountain called Sul far in the west, an uncanny place, but only because it’s surrounded by the sea. Salt water they call the curse of Obatth…This tale of the Night Mouth must be a secret knowledge. Priestly lore.”
    “Useful to justify an invasion,” said Gry.
    “If so, it would be more widely known, wouldn’t it? Do the common soldiers know the story, Waylord?”
    “I don’t know. I know they were told to search for certain things. Certain houses. Caves, wizards, idols, books…There are many caves in the hills above the city. And idols and books—there was no end of them in Ansul. The soldiers were diligent.”
    We were all silent for a while.
    “How are you governed?” Gry asked.
    There was something in her voice; it wasn’t as beautiful as her husband’s voice, but there was something in it that relieved me, quieted me, the way touching the lion’s fur did. When the Waylord answered her he sounded a little less strained.
    “We’re enslaved, not governed. The Gand Ioratth and his officers are all the law. For the most part, we of Ansul hold the city together by doing things as we used to do them, as best we can, while the Alds exact tribute, and punish blasphemy, and hold aloof. They’ve lived here as soldiers in a garrison ever since they took the city. They sent no colonists. They brought no women. They don’t want to live here. They hate it, land and city and sea. The earth itself is a place of exile to them, and this is the worst of it.”
    In the silence that followed, Shetar raised her head from her paws, said, “Rrrawow!” in a deep, throaty voice, and yawned mightily.
    “You’re right,” Gry said to her. She and Caspro rose to say good night, thanking the Waylord for his hospitality, and thanking me too.
    I gave her an oil lamp with a mica shade to light their way to their room. I saw that both she and her husband touched the god-niche by the door as they left the room. I watched them go down the corridor side by side, his hand on her shoulder, the lion pacing softly after them and the glimmer of the lamp running along the bare stone walls.
    I turned back to see the Waylord gazing at the candle, his face very weary. I thought how alone he was. His friends came and went again, and here he must stay. I had thought of his solitude as his choice, his nature, maybe because it came so natural to me. But he had no choice.
    He looked up at me. “What have you brought to Galvamand?” he