Books In English "City Of Illusions" Ursula K. Le Guin | Page 43

loud, or than Walden Pond itself' ".
Then he said, "Good night!" and said no more. Falk slept that night the
first sound, long sleep he had had since his journey had begun.
He stayed two more days and nights in the riverside cabin, for his host
made him very welcome and he found it hard to leave the little haven of
warmth and company. The old man seldom listened and never answered
questions, but in and out of his ever-running talk certain facts and hints
glanced and vanished. He knew the way west from here and what lay
along it—for how far, Falk could not make sure. Clear to Es Toch, it
seemed; perhaps even beyond? What lay beyond Es Toch? Falk himself
had no idea, except that one would come eventually to the Western Sea,
and on beyond that to the Great Continent, and eventually on around again
to the Eastern Sea and the Forest. That the world was round, men knew,
but there were no maps left. Falk had a notion that the old man might have
been able to draw one; but where he got such a notion he scarcely knew,
for his host never spoke directly of anything he himself had done or seen
beyond this little river-bank clearing.
"Look out for the hens, downriver," said the old man, apropos of
nothing, as they breakfasted in the early morning before Falk set off again.
"Some of them can talk. Others can listen. Like us, eh? I talk and you
listen. Because, of course, I am the Listener and you are the Messenger.
Logic be damned. Remember about the hens, and mistrust those that sing.
Roosters are less to be mistrusted; they're too busy crowing. Go alone. It
won't hurt you. Give my regards to any Princes or Wanderers you may
meet, particularly Henstrella. By the way, it occurred to me in between
your dreams and my own last night that you've walked quite enough for
exercise and might like to take my slider. I'd forgotten I had it. I'm not
going to use it, since I'm not going anywhere, except to die. I hope
someone comes by to bury me, or at least drag me outside for the rats and
ants, once I'm dead. I don't like the prospect of rotting around in here after
all the years I've kept the place tidy. You can't use a slider in the forest, of
course, now there are no trails left worth the name, but if you want to
follow the river it'll take you along nicely. And across the Inland River too,
which isn't easy to cross in the thaws, unless you're a catfish. It's in the
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