The Left Hand Of Darkness (Hainish Cycle #4) - Ursula K. Le Guin Page 0,18

and there was no answer. He ran into the circle and took the Weaver Odren by the throat choking him and shouted that if he got no further answer he would break the Weaver’s neck. Others pulled him off and held him, though he was a strong man. He strained against their hands and cried out, ‘Give me the answer!’

Odren said, ‘It is given, and the price paid. Go.’

Raging then Berosty rem ir Ipe returned to Charuthe, the third Domain of his family, a poor place in northern Osnoriner, which he had made poorer in getting together the price of a Foretelling. He shut himself up in the strong-place, in the highest rooms of Hearth-Tower, and would not come out for friend or foe, for seedtime or harvest, for kemmer or foray, all that month and the next and the next, and six months went by and ten months went by, and he still kept like a prisoner to his room, waiting. On Onnetherhad and Odstreth (the 18th and 19th days of the month) he would not eat any food, nor would he drink, nor would he sleep.

His kemmering by love and vow was Herbor of the Geganner clan. This Herbor came in the month of Grende to Thangering Fastness and said to the Weaver, ‘I seek a Foretelling.’

‘What have you to pay?’ Odren asked, for he saw that the man was poorly dressed and badly shod, and his sledge was old, and everything about him wanted mending.

‘I will give my life,’ said Herbor.

‘Have you nothing else, my lord?’ Odren asked him, speaking now as to a great nobleman, ‘nothing else to give?’

‘I have nothing else,’ said Herbor. ‘But I do not know if my life is of any value to you here.’

‘No,’ said Odren, ‘it is of no value to us.’

Then Herbor fell on his knees, struck down by shame and love, and cried to Odren, ‘I beg you to answer my question. It is not for myself!’

‘For whom, then?’ asked the Weaver.

‘For my lord and kemmering Ashe Berosty,’ said the man and he wept. ‘He has no love nor joy nor lordship since he came here and got that answer which was no answer. He will die of it.’

‘That he will: what does a man die of but his death?’ said the Weaver Odren. But Herbor’s passion moved him, and at length he said, ‘I will seek the answer of the question you ask, Herbor, and I will ask no price. But bethink you, there is always a price. The asker pays what he has to pay.’

Then Herbor set Odren’s hands against his own eyes in sign of gratitude, and so the Foretelling went forward. The Foretellers gathered and went into the darkness. Herbor went among them and asked his question, and the question was, How long will Ashe Berosty rem ir Ipe live? For Herbor thought thus to get the count of days or years, and so set his love’s heart at rest with certain knowledge. Then the Foretellers moved in the darkness and at last Odren cried in great pain, as if he burned in a fire, Longer than Herbor of Geganner!

It was not the answer Herbor had hoped, but it was the answer he got, and having a patient heart he went home to Charuthe with it, through the snows of Grende. He came into the Domain and into the strong-place and climbed the tower, and there found his kemmering Berosty sitting as ever blank and bleak by an ash-smothered fire, his arms lying on a table of red stone, his head sunk between his shoulders.

‘Ashe,’ said Herbor, ‘I have been to Thangering Fastness, and have been answered by the Foretellers. I asked them how long you would live and their answer was, Berosty will live longer than Herbor.’

Berosty looked up at him as slow as if the hinge in his neck had rusted, and said, ‘Did you ask them when I would die, then?’

‘I asked how long you would live.’

‘How long? You fool! You had a question of the Foretellers, and did not ask them when I am to die, what day, month, year, how many days are left to me – you asked how long? O you fool, you staring fool, longer than you, yes, longer than you!’ Berosty took up the great table of red stone as if it had been a sheet of tin and brought it down on Herbor’s head. Herbor fell, and the stone lay on him. Berosty stood