Red Prophet: The Tales of Alvin Maker, Volume II by Orson Scott Card Page A

asleep clutching the amulet that kept him safe.

4
Lolla-Wossiky
    When Lolla-Wossiky left Ta-Kumsaw standing by the gate of Fort Carthage, he knew what his brother thought. Ta-Kumsaw thought he was going off with his keg to drink and drink and drink.
    But Ta-Kumsaw didn’t know. White Murderer Harrison didn’t know. Nobody knew about Lolla-Wossiky. This keg would last him two months maybe. A little bit now, a little bit then. Careful, careful, never spill a drop, drink just
this
much, close it tight, make it last. Maybe even three months.
    Always before he had to stay close to White Murderer Harrison’s fort, to get the cups of dribbling likker from the dark brown jug. Now, though, he had plenty to make his journey, his great north journey to meet his dream beast.
    Nobody knew that Lolla-Wossiky had a dream beast. White man didn’t know cause White man had no dream beast, White man slept all the time and never woke up. Red man didn’t know cause Red man saw Lolla-Wossiky and thought he was a likker Red, going to die, had no dream beast, never wake up.
    Lolla-Wossiky knew though. Lolla-Wossiky knew that light up north, he saw it come five years back. He knew it was his dream beast calling, but he never could go. He started five, six, twelve times north, but then the likker would seep out of his blood and then the noise would come back, terrible black noise that hurt him so badall the time. When the black noise came it was like a hundred tiny knives in his head, twisting, twisting, so he couldn’t feel the land no more, couldn’t even see his dream beast light, had to go back, find the likker, still the noise so he could
think
.
    This last was the very worst time. No likker came for a long, long time, and for two months at the end even White Murderer Harrison didn’t have much for him, maybe one cup in a week, never enough to last more than a few hours, maybe a day. Two long months of black noise all the time.
    Black noise made it so Lolla-Wossiky couldn’t walk right. Everything wiggles, ground bumps up and down, how can you walk when the land looks like water? So everybody thought Lolla-Wossiky was drunk, stagger like a whisky-Red, fall down all the time. Where does he get the likker? they all ask. Nobody has likker but Lolla-Wossiky still gets drunk, how does he do it? Not one person has eyes to see that Lolla-Wossiky isn’t drunk at all. Don’t they hear how he talks, clear talking, not drunk-talk? Don’t they smell he got no likker-stink? Nobody guesses, nobody reckons, nobody calcalates, nobody figures. They know Lolla-Wossiky always needs likker. Never nobody thinks maybe Lolla-Wossiky has pain so bad he hopes to die.
    And when he closes his eye to stop the world from rippling like the river, they all think he’s asleep and they say things. Oh, they say things they don’t want no Red to hear. Lolla-Wossiky figured that out very quick and so when the black noise got so bad he wanted to go lie down on the bottom of the river to shut out the noise forever, instead he staggered to White Murderer Harrison’s office and fell down on the floor by his door and listened. Black noise was very loud, but it wasn’t ear noise, so he could still hear voices even with the roaring of the black noise in his head. He thought very hard to hear every word under the door. He knew all that White Murderer Harrison said to everybody.
    Lolla-Wossiky never told anybody what he heard.
    Lolla-Wossiky never told anybody anything true. They never believed him anyway. You’re drunk, Lolla-Wossiky.Shame on you, Lolla-Wossiky. Even when he wasn’t drunk, even when he hurt so bad he wanted to kill everything alive to make it go away, even then they said, Too bad to see even a Red get so awful drunk. And Ta-Kumsaw, standing there never saying anything or when he did, being so strong and right, when Lolla-Wossiky was so weak and wrong.
    North north north went Lolla-Wossiky, chanting to himself. North a thousand steps before I take a little