Ursula K. LeGuin - Chronicles of the Western Shore 02 - Voices.pdf - Ursula K. LeGuin - widez2

CASPRO'S HYMN

As in the dark of winter night

Our eyes seek dawn,

As in the bonds of bitter cold

The heart craves sun,

So blinded and so bound, the soul

Cries out to thee:

Be our light, our fire, our life,

Liberty!

? 1 ?

The first thing I can remember clearly is writing the way into the secret room.

I am so small I have to reach my arm up to makethe signs in theright place on the wall of the corridor.

The wall iscoated with thick grey plaster, cracked and crumbling in places so the stone showsthrough. It's

almost dark in the corridor. It smells of earth and age, and it's silent. But I'm not afraid; I'm never afraid

there. I reach up and move my writing finger in the motionsI know, in the right place, in the air, not quite

touching the surface of the plaster. The door opens in the wall. and I go in.

The light in that room is clear andcalm,falling from many small skylightsof thickglass in the highceiling. It's

a verylong room, withshelves down its wall, and bookson theshelves. It's my room, and I've always

knownit. Ista and Sosta andGudit don't. They don't even know it's there. Theynever come to these

corridors far in the backof the house. I pass theWaylord's door to come here, but he's sickand lame and

stays in his rooms. The secret room ismy secret,the place where Icanbe alone, andnot scolded and

bothered, andnot afraid.

The memoryisn'tof one timeI went there,but many. I remember how big the readingtable looked to me

then, and how high the bookshelves were. I likedto get under thetable andbuild a kindof wall or shelter

with some of the books.I pretended to be a bear cub in itsden I felt safe there. I alwaysput the books

back exactlywhere they belonged on the shelves; that was important. I stayed in the lighter partof the

room, nearthe door that'snot a door. I didn$t likethe farther end, where it grows dark andthe ceiling

comes down lower. In my mind I called thatthe shadowend, and I almostalways stayedaway fromit. But

even my fearof the shadowend was part of my secret, my kingdom of solitude. And it was mine alone,

until one day when I was nine.

Sosta had been scolding me for some stupid thing that wasn't my fault, and when I was rude back to her

she called me"sheep hair,"which put me in a fury. I couldnt hit her because her arms were longer and she

could hold me off, so I bit her hand. Then her mother, my bymother Ista, scolded me and cuffed me.

Furious, I ran to the back part of the house, to the dark corridor, and opened the door and went into the

secret room. I was going to stay there till Ista and Sosta thought I'd run away and been taken as a slave

and was gone forever, and then they'd be sorry for scolding unjustly and cuffing and calling me names. I

rushed into the secret room all hot and full of tears and rage—and there, in the strange dear light of that

place, stood the Waylord with a book in his hands.

He was startled, too. He came at me, fierce, his arm raised as if to strike. I stood like a stone. I could

not breathe.

He stopped short. "Memer! How did you come here?"

He looked at the place where the door is when it's open, but of course nothing was there but the wall.

I still couldn'tbreathe or speak.

"I left it open," he said, withoutbelievingwhat he said.

I shook myhead.

Finally Iwas able to whisper, "I know how."

His facewasshocked andamazed, but after a while it changed, and he said, "Decalo."

Ursula K. LeGuin - Chronicles of the Western Shore 02 - Voices.pdf

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