“I saw,” said Kamilil, “that there is much restlessness in life, and that when gain perches on one person’s shoulder it has not come out of nothing, but has flown from the shoulder of another.... Cease thinking of great riches for your children after you.”
“That I cannot do,” said Vana. “My children are my dear life.”
“Then the bird,” said Kamilil, “will fly from your shoulder to Mardurbo’s shoulder.—And that is all that I saw in the smoke from the plants.”
Vana, returning home, found Mardurbo and the bondmen establishing booths for the market. Ordinarily she would have given great help, but to-day there was abstraction in her gaze.
Mardurbo came to her where she stood. “Every one will be here to trade or to look. I will speak to the elders about the council.”
“Say nothing until I return,” said Vana. “I am going to see Uduma the seer.”
She left the town wall behind her, and followed the winding of the brook, walking with a silver tinkling of her anklets. Presently she found again the clear, sunny space, and Uduma carding wool.
“Hail, Uduma!”
“Hail, woman-who-was-here-yesterday!”
Vana sat upon the grass before Uduma. “Uduma, Uduma! the lamb must take the name of the ram as well as his riches!”