Longeye Read Online Free Page B

trees, they share themselves with the whole forest," he said. "Their thought doesn't die."
    Root and branch. Who expected such insights from a sprout?
    "It is true that their wisdom endures," Meri agreed; "but the voice—that one, distinctive and unique viewpoint—it is gone forever. The forests may learn and treasure, but the forests have learned from, and treasure, many." He paused, considering the boy's bowed head, and the tender curve of his exposed neck. Young he might be for these questions, yet he had asked and so deserved an answer, in fullness.
    "It is the best we may do, Wood Wise, Newman, or tree, to pass on our knowledge and our dreams to the ones who come after, so that those things we have learned are not lost, and our good deeds stretch beyond us, while our ill deeds are not repeated." He paused again. The boy did not lift his head, but there was a certain set to his shoulders that said to Meri that he was listening—and thinking.
    "Your gran, then," Meri continued slowly. "She was old and very wise, was she not?"
    Jamie sniffled again, and nodded without raising his head. "She was our herbalist, and our doctor, and our historian." He raised his head at last and met Meri's eye. "She came over the hellroad—you heard Jack tell it. She said—she said her hair was as red as Violet's when she walked in, and the color of salt when they came to settle, like she'd walked down thirty years in that one crossing. Martin Kinderman, his hair went from grey to black, and the lines melted out of his face, though there were still old thoughts in that young head of his . . ." The boy's voice had taken on a cadence unlike his own, as if he were retelling a story he had listened to many times before, in the storyteller's own voice. "He died soon after they settled, like the youth was an illusion, and Gran, she kept on, not changing at all past the change that she'd already borne, caring for us. She asked the trees if we could stay and she gave the Engenium at Sea Hold our whole-oath, that we would serve her and her lands. And here we've been ever since."
    "You were born to this land, Jack Wood said," Meri murmured, when a moment or two had passed and the boy had not taken up the threads of his tale.
    "There's six of us second-borns," Jamie said slowly. "The Engenium at Sea Hold . . . Gran swore to her that we wouldn't outgrow our land, and— Father says the land holds us to our oath."
    Of course the land holds them to their oath , Meri thought. And it also explained why Sian was so certain of her secret band of Newmen. She held the oath of the Old Woman, which was potent, indeed. But—the Old Woman was gone, passed beyond oaths and the Engenium, alike. Meri took a breath.
    "Did Sam renew the oath when he came to be headman?" he asked, carefully.
    Jamie nodded, and Meri felt a flutter of relief. "Sam picked up the oath and Mother renewed our kinship to the trees," he said solemnly—repeating, Meri suspected, a lesson learned but perhaps imperfectly understood. No matter. The Newmen were bound, to the Vaitura no less than to the trees themselves. Mischief could always be done, of course, but such ties were potent.
    "It seems that you are well-situated here," he began—
    Brilliance shattered the night, confusing Meri's senses, so that he flung an arm up to shield his eye. Came the sound of running feet, sobs, a shout—and he was up, his back against the culdoon, his hand on his knife. He fingered the hilt, but did not draw. Beside him, likewise braced against the tree, was Jamie Moore, his breathing quieter now.
    "Violet!" The shout came again, and now Meri recognized the voice of Sam Moore, though he had never heard it carry such a depth of pain.
    "No!" A girl's voice, clearly distraught, the girl herself the merest suggestion of shadow behind the blare of her aura. "Sam, leave me alone!"
    "Violet, I know you're upset, but you can't just refuse—at least think about it!"
    "I have thought about it!" the girl cried,