Directly after noon I took Lianth with me and went out toward the Leap and then up the bank of a tributary rill, and so into a part of the wood where the Outliers did not much frequent. Lianth, who was a great talker, grew more and more quiet as my replies were more absent, and the way grew steeper. We could see the ground rising in front of us through the trees, and hear the noise of the creek falling far behind.
The boy was walking very close to me, and there was a shy color coming in his cheek; he glanced right and left under his half long lashes and came very close.
“Well, isn’t she?” he said. “Isn’t she as beautiful as I said—you know who?”
“Zirriloë?”
“Well, isn’t she?”
“Lianth,” said I, “if you think I have brought you out here to give you a chance to talk about forbidden things, you are mistaken. I came because I wished to be alone. I’m going a little farther among the trees, and don’t you come until I call you.”
He was helping me up over a broken ledge as I spoke, and stopped there looking at me irresolutely.
“You aren’t going to try and run away, are you? You look as though you were—from something.”
“Only from you. You can give the call, and if I don’t answer you can come to look for me.”
I had learned already many of the Outland methods of communicating by forest notes rather than trust to the betraying, high-pitched human voice. None of these was of more use to me than the call for refuge. If any Outlier wished to be private in his place, he raised that call, which all who were within hearing answered. Then whoever was on his way from that placed hurried, and whoever was coming toward it stayed where he was until he had permission to move on. Though Lianth was somewhat taken aback at my demand, I knew I should have some little space unmolested.