“Praise, but not so great praise.”
“When the people from the hills came against us, four barley harvests since, and broke down the wall and poured through the ways and struck against the houses, Mardurbo fought mightily in our doorway. I also fought, but Mardurbo fought with great blows. Did not the children praise him then?”
“Yes. Were the ram and the ewe and the lamb together, in a close place, and there came a dog, the ram would fight mightily, and for the ewe and the lamb as for himself. And if he is hurt the ewe will fight for him, as always for the lamb. And doubtless in its heart the lamb praises the ram, and another day, if there comes a dog or a wolf, it looks to the ram as to the ewe to fight for it.... All that is true, and there is praise now in the earth from children to fathers. But the food is the continuing life, and the warmth is the continuing life, and the taking of care is the continuing life.... The lamb turns with the ewe.”
Vana sat still. The light came down clear and dry. It might be seen why Uduma liked this place. “If the ram has food to give, and garments for richness and warmth, and fields for gain and pleasantness—”
“While it is very little the lamb will yet turn with the ewe.”
Vana sat cross-limbed, her eyes upon the earth. A great bird passed overhead; she knew it by its shadow on the ground. “This it was that crossed Kadoumin’s mind and the mind of Kamilil, but neither could gain its shape!” She sat still, in the dry light, but she was not wholly accustomed to that light—by no means wholly accustomed to that light. Not even Uduma was that.
“What else?” asked Vana at last, and she spoke in a dulled and weary voice.
“If the ram can do all that,” said Uduma, “if the lamb at last turns with him, then the ewe must seek her gain elsewhere.”
Vana beat her hands together. “There is no gain elsewhere!”
“I have not dug deep enough nor built high enough,” said Uduma, “to find out about that. And this is all that I can tell you now of the matter, for the eyes with which I see grow tired.”