Voices by Ursula K. Le Guin Page B

university with ceremonies and festivals, and students and scholars came; but it was never so famous, so much visited, as the old Library of Galvamand. And then after two centuries the desert people came and tore down the stones, dumped the books into the canals and the sea, buried them in the mud.
    Orrec listened to my story with his head in his hands.
    "Nothing was left here at Galvamand?" Gry asked.
    "Some books," I said uncomfortably. "But when the siege was broken the Ald soldiers came here right away, even before they went to the university. Looking for that ... that place they believe in. They tore out the wooden parts of the house, and took the books, the furnishings—Whatever they found they took." I was telling the truth, but I had a strong sense that Gry was aware that it wasn't the whole truth.
    "This is terrible—terrible," Orrec said, standing up.
"I know the Alds think writing is an evil thing—but to destroy—to waste—" He was grieved and upset beyond words. He strode off down the room and stood at the western windows, where over the roofs of Galvamand and the lower city white Sul floated on the mist above the straits.
    Gry went to Shetar and clipped the leash to her collar. "Come on," she said softly to me. "She needs a walk."
    "I'm sorry," I said, following her, despairing again at having so distressed Orrec. Everything I said was wrong. It was a day without Ennu, without any blessing.
    "Was it you that destroyed the books?"
    "No. But I wish—"
    "If wishes were horses!" said Gry. "Tell me, is there anywhere I could let Shetar off the leash to run? She won't attack if I'm anywhere near her, but it's less worrisome to let her go where there aren't people around."
    "The old park," I said, and we went there. It is just above and east of the house, a broad gully in the hillside over the river where the Embankments divide it into the four canals. Trees grow thick on the slopes of the old park. The Alds never go there; they don't like trees. Nobody much goes there except children hunting rabbits or quail to get a bit of meat for their family.
    I showed Gry what they call Denios' Fountain, near the entrance, and Shetar had a long drink from the basin.
    There was not a soul about, and Gry let the lion off the leash. She bounded off, but not far, and kept coming back to us. Evidently she didn't much like the trees either, and didn't want to go far into the thick, neglected undergrowth. She spent a long time sharpening her claws on one tree, then another, and sniffed exhaustively on the tracks of some creature all round a great thicket of brambles. The farthest she got from us was in pursuit of a butterfly, which led her leaping and batting at it down a steep dark path. After she'd been out of sight around a bend for a while, Gry gave a little purring call. In a moment the lion reappeared, loping up at us through the shadows. Gry touched Shetar's head, and she followed us as we started wandering slowly back up through the woods.
    "What a wonderful gift," I said, "to be able to call animals to you."
    "Depends on what you use it for," Gry said. "It certainly came in handy when we came down out of the Uplands and had to make a living. I trained horses while Orrec got his learning. I like that work ... I admire the way the Alds train their horses. For them, beating your horse is worse than beating your wife." She gave a little snort.
    "How could you stand living in Asudar so long? Weren't you—didn't you get angry at them?"
    "I didn't have the cause for anger you have," she said. "It was a little like living with wild animals—predators. They're dangerous, and not reasonable, by our standards. They make life hard. I felt sorry for the Ald men."
    I said nothing.
    "They're like stallions or buck rabbits," she went on, reflectively. "Never a moment they're not anxious about a rival male, or a female getting loose. They're never free. They fill their world with enemies ... But they're brave, and keep their word, and