I wonder if old Ascela would be quite so good a weather predictor, stone notwithstanding, if she lived at the base of the village waterfall instead of up on the ridge.”Ī trio of Parramati youngsters came hopping past them, clearing several of the broad stone steps with each bound. “It’s my guess that the Parramati are more than just secure in their kusum I suspect they can number some intuitively clever individuals among their tribe, as well.
“Of course, if you’re going to lay claim to the position of tribal meteorologist, it doesn’t hurt to live near the highest point on the island so that you can see approaching weather before anyone else.” He smiled knowingly.
Several were starting to show dark undersides. “It’s a good system that obviously contributes to a more stable culture than is to be found on many of the island groups.” He was staring southward, where billowing cloud masses were gathering. The Parramati aren’t so much pacific as they are sensible.”
ALAN DEAN FOSTER TORRENT HOW TO
You can steal a stone, but not the generationally accumulated knowledge of how to use it. The masters of the fishing stones need the help of the masters of the growing stones, who need the help of the masters of the weather stones, who often consult the masters of the healing stones, and so on. “Since different families ‘control’ different stones, it forces cooperation on them. “You see how they avoid fighting among themselves.” Fawn was explaining as they exited the simple but sturdy structure and started back down the mountainside. “That figures.” He turned back to the big person who was their hostess. “Shapes and sizes differ, but I think they’re all fashioned from the same favored material.” “All the ones I’ve seen.” Fawn was watching him closely. “The other stones all look pretty much like this one?” Now that he was actually seeing one of the fabulous sacred stones of Parramati mythology, he was distinctly underwhelmed. “That’s nice.” Having been invited in, the disappointed xenologist struggled to show interest. “This helps you to predict the weather?”Īscela’s long fingers twisted. He watched as she turned it slowly in her hands. As a specimen it was interesting but hardly revelatory. There were hints of multiple inclusions within the material, no doubt other minerals that had formed in the course of the eruption. One end was slightly flattened while the other exhibited several sharp edges where the material had been cut or fractured. Flung out by some ancient eruption, the stone might have come from any of a number of highly visible peaks that poked their dead or dormant crowns above the islands of the archipelago.Īscela held it out for his inspection. Uncarved and apparently unworked, the head-size, irregularly shaped lump of dark greenish glass hinted at a volcanic origin. It wasn’t quite what Pulickel had expected. As near as Pulickel could tell, the stone was not guarded, alarmed, rigged, fastened, or otherwise protected from intruders.Īscela confirmed this by simply reaching out and picking it up. The sacred stone was kept in a small rear room of its own, atop a wonderfully carved and fluted pedestal of richly polished, dark purple metaria wood that spiraled up from the floor like an amethyst whirlpool. It sat on short stone legs and looked out on several smaller outlying buildings that were used variously for storage and hygiene. There was nothing different or striking about the sparse, clean, artfully decorated structure. From such heights, the magnificent waterfall that tumbled into the narrow inlet beneath the village was a mere distant trickle. Her simple home commanded a panoramic view of the terraced hillside, the surrounding green-clad mountains, and the village below.
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