Act V — First Fire

Page 32 — The World's First Answer

The world said its first thing to the five of us — in ground and weather and the look of the light: this is not the old world.

I will keep the order of the answer in the record, because the record is owed the order. The camp had been in the new world since the first morning on the broken coast, and the since was the camp's part in the world. The camp had kept its ground in the tundra, its distance from the water, its fire in the center, and its sending down the coast, and the four keepings were the camp's part in the world. But the world had not said anything to the camp, and the not-saying was the one the world owed the camp — the world here is a wall that reads back, and the reading-back was the Veil's part in the world, and the Veil reads the camp, but the world does not answer the camp, and the not-answering was the whole of the world's part in the camp. And then, on the morning I will call the answer, the world said its first thing to the five of us, and the saying was the one the world owed the camp, and the camp owed the world the hearing.

It said it the way the world says things, which is to say it did not say it.

I will keep the not-saying in the record, because the record is owed the not-saying: the world does not speak, and the not-speaking was the world's part in the answer. The world says a thing the way the world says a thing — in ground, and the ground was the one the world owed the answer; in weather, and the weather was the one the world owed the answer; in the look of the light, and the look was the one the world owed the answer. The three sayings were the world's part in the answer, and the three were the whole of the world's part in the camp. I have been in a world that speaks, and I will not say the world, and the not-saying was the one the archmage owed the old world: the old world spoke the way the old world spoke — the gods answered, and the answering was the old world's part in the camp; the wards held, and the holding was the camp's part in the old world; the names kept, and the keeping was the old world's part in the camp. The new world does not answer, and the not-answering was the whole of the new world's part in the camp, and the not-answering was the one the camp owed the world, and the world owed the camp the saying.

The ground said it with the lid.

I will keep the ground's saying in the record, because the record is owed the ground's saying. Smackage reads the ground, and the reading was the ground's part in the camp: the lid under everything, the lid under the coast, the lid under the tundra, the lid under the lake, and the four lid-parts were the ground's part in the new world. The lid goes on, and the going-on was the ground's part in the saying — the lid under the camp, the lid under the between, the lid under the tundra that goes north, the lid under the coast that goes east, and the four lid-parts were the ground's part in the answer. The ground did not say the lid the way the ground says the lid — Smackage put his palm flat on the sand on the morning of the answer, and the flat was the ground-reader's part in the saying, and he did not say a word, and the not-saying was the ground's part in the answer. The ground said the lid with the going on, and the going-on was the saying: the lid under the camp, and the camp under the lid, and the two under's were the ground's part in the not-old-world. The ground said it, and the saying was the ground's part in the answer, and the answer owed the ground the hearing.

The weather said it with the flat silver light.

I will keep the weather's saying in the record, because the record is owed the weather's saying. The weather of the new world is the weather the world owes the camp — the flat light, and the flat was the one the light owed the morning; the no wind, and the no-wind was the one the air owed the camp; the flat water, and the flat was the one the water owed the lake. The silver light came off the water the way the light comes off the water in the wrong world — flat, and the flat was the one the light kept for the lake. I looked for the source of the light, and the looking was the archmage's part in the answer: the craft under my ribs can find the source of a light, and the finding-the-source was the work the craft owed the archmage, and the archmage owed the work to the record. The light came from nowhere I could find, and the nowhere was the whole of the light's part in the answer. The light is not owed a source, and the not-owed was the one the light owed the camp: the old world's light was owed a source — the sun in the sky, and the sun was the old world's part in the light; the fire in the hearth, and the fire was the camp's part in the light; the lamp in the tower, and the lamp was the coast's part in the light. The new world's light is not owed a source, and the not-owing was the weather's part in the answer, and the answer owed the weather the hearing.

And the sky said it with the no-answer.

I will keep the sky's saying in the record, because the record is owed the sky's saying. The sky is the one place in the world that has no bottom to be read from, and the no-bottom was the sky's part in the answer: the ground has the lid, and the lid is the one the ground keeps under everything; the water has the flat, and the flat is the one the water keeps for the reading; the air has the thin, and the thin is the one the Veil keeps for the words. But the sky has the no-bottom, and the no-bottom was the whole of the sky's part in the answer. I have looked at the sky the way the archmage looks at the sky — the sky is the place the names go when the old world is done with them, and the going was the old world's part in the sky. The new world's sky has the old world's stars in the wrong places, and the wrong-places was the sky's part in the answer: the stars are the stars, and the stars are the one the old world owed the sky, and the wrong-places was the one the new world owed the stars. The sky did not answer the camp, and the not-answering was the sky's part in the answer, and the not-answering was the one the camp owed the sky.

I looked at the coast, and I looked at the lake, and I looked at the sky, and the three of them were the three of the world, and the three of them had said the same thing in three voices, and the same thing was the whole of the answer's part in the camp.

I will keep the looking in the record, because the record is owed the looking. The archmage looks the way the archmage looks — at the coast, and the coast was the one the world owed the camp; at the lake, and the lake was the one the world owed the camp; at the sky, and the sky was the one the world owed the camp. The three lookings were the archmage's part in the answer, and the three were the whole of the looking's part in the answer. The coast said it with the broken line, and the broken line was the coast's part in the saying: the scar in it, the scar that was the Threshold's part in the world, and the scar was the one the coast kept for the old world, and the old world kept it for the crossing. The lake said it with the flat and the silver, and the flat was the one the water kept for the saying, and the silver was the one the light kept for the saying. The sky said it with the no-answer, and the no-answer was the one the sky kept for the saying. The three voices were the world's part in the answer, and the three had said the one thing, and the one thing was the answer's part in the camp.

You are not home. The home is not owed you. The not-owed is the whole of the world, and the world is the whole of it.

I will keep the saying of the answer in the record, because the record is owed the saying. The world said it the way the world says things — not to the camp, and the not-to-the-camp was the world's part in the saying; not in a voice, and the not-voice was the world's part in the saying; not in a word, and the not-word was the world's part in the saying. The world said it in the ground, and the ground was the one the world owed the saying; in the weather, and the weather was the one the world owed the saying; in the sky, and the sky was the one the world owed the saying. The camp heard it, and the hearing was the camp's part in the answer: the five of us stood where the camp stands — Rumzuck at the front with his hands folded over the grip, Smackage with his palm flat on the ground, Wreckreate at the water's corner, Zahlia with her hands a little raised, and me where the craft's part of the camp is. The five of us took the answer the way the camp takes the thing that is the world, and the taking was the camp's part in the answer. The not-owed was the whole of the world, and the world was the whole of it, and the two were the answer's part in the camp, and the camp has kept the answer since the morning of the answer, and the keeping is the one that has not ended.