Gifts (Annals of the Western Shore Book 1) by Ursula K. Le Guin

Author:Ursula K. Le Guin
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
Published: 2006-03-31T23:00:00+00:00

10

It was strange and wearisome to ride all day seeing nothing of the country we rode through, aware only of the sound of hoofs on soft or stony ground, the creak of saddles, the smell of horse sweat and broom flower, the touch of the wind, guessing what the road must be like by Roanie’s gait. Unable to be ready for a change, a stumble, a sway, a check, I was always tense in the saddle, and often had to abandon shame and hold the pommel to keep myself steady. Mostly we had to ride single file, so there was no conversation. We paused now and then so Mother could give the chicks water, and we stopped at midday to rest and water the horses and to eat our lunch. The chicks chirped and cheeped vigorously over the feed Mother scattered in their basket. I asked where we were. Under Black Crag, Father said, in the domain of the Cordes. I could not imagine the place, never having been so far to the west of Caspromant. We soon went on, and to me the afternoon was a dull, long, black dream.

“By the Stone!” my father said. He never swore, not even such a mild old-fashioned oath as that, and it startled me out of my trance. My mother was riding in front, for there was no mistaking the path, and my father behind, keeping an eye on us. She had not heard him speak, but I asked, “What is it?”

“Our heifers,” he said, “over there.” And remembering I could not see where he pointed, “There’s a herd of cattle in the meadows under the hill there, and two of them are white. The rest are duns and roans.” He was silent a moment, probably straining his eyes to see. “They have the hump, and the shallow horns,” he said. “It’s them all right.”

We had all stopped, and Mother asked, “Are we still in Cordemant?”

“Drummant,” my father said. “For the past hour. But those are the Rodd breed. And my cows, I think. If I got closer to them, I could be sure of it.”

“Not now, Canoc,” she said. “It’ll be getting dark before long. We ought to go on.” There was strong apprehension in her voice. He heeded it.

“Right you are,” he said, and I heard Greylag step forward, and Roanie followed him without my needing to signal her, and the colt’s light step followed us.

We came to the Stone House of Drummant, and that was hard for me, that arrival in a strange place among strangers. My mother took my arm as soon as I dismounted and hung on to me, maybe to reassure herself as well as me. Among the many voices, I heard Ogge Drum’s, loud and genial.” Well, well, well, so you did come at last! And welcome to you! Welcome to Drummant! We’re poor folk here but what we have we share! What’s this, what’s this, the boy bandaged up like this? What’s the trouble then, lad? Weak eyes, is it?”

“Ah, we could wish it were that,” Canoc said lightly.

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