Kadoumin laid down the barley stalk, and the sun being at height and the reapers coming to the tree, got slowly to his feet. “You see much with your eyes, Vana, maker of fine webs! but there is, in this matter, something down the lane and beside the wall.... I do not clearly see what it is myself, but it is there.... I shall go talk to Dardin the magic-man.”
Vana went to Kamilil the magic-woman, taking with her a gift. Kamilil lived near the gate in the wall, in a very clean house with two daughters to care for it. She smiled when any one spoke to her of Dardin and said that many made magic, but that few made it well.
Vana gave her present of two hens into the daughters’ hands and sat down at Kamilil’s feet. The daughters went away.
Kamilil was spinning wool. “Do you come for magic, Vana, rich in many ways?”
“Mother Kamilil,” said Vana, “mothers want more magic than most!—I lie awake at night to think how to make my children rich and great!”
“They must do some of that themselves,” said Kamilil, and put red wool upon her distaff.
“Yes,” said Vana, but still she thought that she could do it for them. “Mother Kamilil, is there a magic to make all men, no less than all women, desire to leave their goods when they die to their children?”
“A weak magic will do that,” answered Kamilil, “seeing that in their hearts most men desire it now.”
“Then is there a magic to make every man’s kindred ready to give over claiming when he dies and the children stand forth?”
Kamilil span and span. “There is the magic that you see that what you do for others others will do for you.”