Hmm, I am just skimming this as it goes by, but I barely recognize some of this as mine.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw someone approach. I turned to see a boy and a girl, no more than 10 or 12, dressed in the same simple clothes — a kind of belted tunic that hung to the knee — coming toward me. In their hands I could see some bundles and the boy carried what looked like a jug.
“Would you come this way? We have made ready for you.” The boy spoke in a plain even tone, his voice carefully controlled lest it break, I suspected. I stepped toward them and they fell in, one on each side and led me toward the edge of the clearing. As we drew closer, I could see that what looked like understory, vines and small shrubs were actually houses of some kind. I could make out doorways and openings I took for windows, but from any distance they were hard to make out. I walked between my guides and stepped up to a house, for lack of a better word. It looked as if it had grown into itself. It was plainly made of the wood, leaves, and vines in which it stood, but at the same time it looked solid and durable. The surface looked like a kind of woven latticework but of such a fine texture, I didn’t know what it was made from. This material was suspended from or attached to wooden supports that curved in places and soared in others.
I stepped inside and found a floor of some wooden material, level and smooth. There were walls inside of the same material, but with a more open weave. There were window openings, wide and tall, so the air inside was light and fresh, not stuffy. I turned looked for my young guides to see what was expected of me. They had unrolled their bundles on a low bench and placed the jug on a higher one under one of the windows.
“If you need anything further, please ask.” With that, they turned and walked away, the girl first with the boy pulling the door behind him.
I looked at the jug and the bundle. There was water, cold, clear, and welcome. The bundle had been unrolled to reveal a simple tunic of the kind I had seen the others wearing. But this one had a hood. There was also a cape of some sort, of the same material as the tunic but much longer. And there was also a pair of shoes, like sandals, much lighter than what I wore on the dry and rocky trails I was used to. Whether or not these clothes were comfortable, a change would be welcome, so I quickly removed my coat, vest, shirt, and undershirt, and washed the worst of the grime from my face and hands. I took off my boots and socks, and took the liberty of washing off my feet as well. I wondered if my hosts would approve of my forgoing shoes altogether. The grass was plainly soft enough to walk on with any but the tenderest feet and mine were far from that.
I pulled the tunic over my head but decided to keep my trousers on. I doubted my hosts would mind but I was prepared to defend my dignity if need be. The sandals were next. They were a simple affair to put on, and would fit larger feet than mine. I was comfortable enough.
I decided to take a look around the structure before I returned to the fire. I needed some time to think but I was also curious. I was used to stone and brick buildings in the older districts of the cities, and mostly wood buildings in the mining towns like El Dorado. This was plainly closer to a wood building but it had an organic sense that echoed a stone building’s permanence. The feeling that this house had grown, rather than been built, was hard to ignore. I wondered what happened if a family grew — there were children here, after all — did you somehow grow additional rooms?
There were only the two rooms, one large one where I had cleaned up and one smaller one in the back, plainly made for sleeping. It had a low wide couch, and looked comfortable indeed. I didn’t dare stretch out on it in case it was as welcoming as it seemed. It occurred to me that perhaps all my thoughts were as good as spoken, if they would speak inside my head. I suppose it didn’t make a lot of difference, but it bore thinking about. Could I keep my own counsel?
Taking a look around the front room once more, I hung my dusty, sweaty garments over the bottom of a window opening away from the clearing, and put my boots by the door. With that, I stepped outside and walked back across the clearing.
The two men sat there still, in silent communion, and I approached them slowly, waiting to hear some greeting or acknowledgment. As I drew closer, one waved me over to an upturned stump between the two benches, and I took my seat.
“Your journey was pleasant, yes? Nothing untoward befell you?”
I was unsure how to reply to this. If being led through an impassable hedge by a horse that later transformed itself to a man that later transformed into bear, if finding oneself in a complete alien world unlike the one just left behind, if these were not unusual, this was going to take some getting used to.
A smile creased the face of my questioner. “Yes, I see how things might seem a little strange. But for example, you saw nothing you had not seen before. You have seen a man, a horse, a bear, just not the transformation from one to the other and yet again. That’s good. The path is not always clear and it is good to have someone formidable to keep an eye out for things you might not notice.”
“Well, if you take those small anomalies into account, yes, it was an uneventful journey. I will have to get used to the uncomfortable feeling my thoughts are not hidden. Is this something you all share?”
“Oh, yes, we are quite used to it. We learn how to wall off parts of our minds where we can keep our private thoughts. The ability to read the thoughts of others and keep one’s own private come with age. The young people you saw can do neither well, but if you were to speak a thought aloud with them in mind, it would register.”
“Can I learn any of this? I suspect I cannot learn the reading but the ability to obscure my own thoughts would be valuable. I feel at quite a disadvantage.”
“I think it would be rather a strain. It’s never come up before where we have had someone in our midst who didn’t share these gifts. And I confess your thoughts are hard to ignore. They are unguarded and honest responses, and that’s unusual as well. We keep those thoughts to ourselves in a way that your expression doesn’t quite cover.”
“We must make an effort to ignore or leave our guest’s mind unjudged.” This was the other of the two. He kept his face obscured, but his voice sounded older and his reticence and the implied respect from the other told me these two were not equals.
“We owe our guest that courtesy, to keep his own counsel without fear of our intrusion. It will impose a burden on us, which is as it should be. We are the hosts. And if we are to make a case for this Angstrom to help us, we must avail ourselves of every chance to demonstrate good faith.”
I had the distinct feeling the old man hadn’t spoken that much aloud in years, and the look on his companion’s face confirmed it. The voice resembled a reliable but little-used piece of machinery, stiff but serviceable.
“I apologize for any inconvenience I might cause you and I appreciate your efforts to accommodate me. I will do my best to be open with you, in return. Though I realize I may not have much choice in the matter.” I closed my reply with a smile, hoping to convey my good will.
“Well spoken, Angstrom. I am sure we can work around this.”
“Doubtless, you know my first question without reading my thoughts. But I will voice it anyway. What am I doing here? And why the somewhat indirect method?”
The others made no answer, but shifted slightly as they sat. I assumed they were communicating, weighing their response.
“We would turn the question around and back to you. What is it that you seek? I know that you have your vocation. The men in the towns out there all want to find wealth under the ground, in the mountains. They prize it above all else, it seems, above the more basic needs of men. They grow almost no food, there is little water, even the stuff they use to build their houses must be transported.