didn’t w ant my welfare, or even Eveshka 's; he wanted his daughter back before she could join Chernevog: he died with this wish I still can feel —
His heart was beating so he could almost hear it. He could imagine the old man wanting to go on living— wanting his way with them and with his daughter, because Uulamets had held this woods more than a hundred years, and Uulamets was not the kind to give up on anything, least of all his life or his purposes.
Maybe that wish is still going, god, maybe I'm still part of it, and it's still going, because I can't not wonder. I wonder what will become of us, and whether we're right to hold on to our hearts and whether we' ll be good wizards or bad—and what if I didn't like the answer? There's so much that could go wrong. Or even what if it was good? How can you enjoy what you've got if you can see everything that ever will happen to it?
But Uulamets wanted to know what would come after him. And I'm scared to know even where I'm going. Maybe that's why a bannik’s never come. He used to say, Don’t -know and afraid-to-know always wins a tug of war—
The pen dried while he was thinking. He dipped it again in the inkpot and made his crabbed, unskillful letters, writing so no wish could make him forget what he had thought tonight, hoping to the god that Eveshka was not awake and eavesdropping.
So in one sense the horse might not have been a mistake. I need something to get my mind off all the might-be's I've been worrying about since we built the bathhouse. When you start worrying about might-be's, that worry is wishing about things that aren't even so yet, and then it wishes on what you've changed, and the god only knows what kind of damage you could do. I'm afraid master Uulamets did a little of that. So maybe wizards have to be very careful with banniks. But wizards wish on their guesses, too, and their guesses might be a lot less reliable than that.
It does disturb me that I forgot wishing for Volkhi—but then, if I had remembered, I'd certainly have done something to stop it; so maybe after all even forgetting was part of the wish. Maybe I had to forget so it had a chance to come true, and it's good after all.
Things change that can change and wishes only take the shape they can take. Never wish things against nature or against time ...
Wish a stone to fly, master Uulamets had said—then beware of the whirlwind.
Wish a horse from Vojvoda ... god, one could imagine dreadful things that could have brought the horse to them: a rider lulling and breaking his neck, a stable burning—the whole town of Vojvoda going up in smoke or being put to the sword ...
A whole host of might-be's like that—while a draft twisted the lamp-flung shadows at the end of the kitchen; and he thought with a sudden shudder of the worst thing in the world to disturb, that forbidden, thorn-hedged place where leshys watched, patient as the trees themselves ...
Something cracked, the whole shelf above him tipped on one end, books and pottery came crashing down onto the table and off it in a thunderous tumble. He scrambled back, the bench scraping as he caught his balance against the table edge and overset the oil-lamp. He grabbed for something to smother the spreading fire, feverishly wished it out and flung a towel over it, trembling in fright as the last bits of pottery rocked and rattled to a stop.
The threatened House-thing, roused from sleep, shifted among the cellar supports and made the whole house creak. He heard Pyetr and Eveshka getting out of bed, Pyetr calling out, asking him what was the matter; and he felt Eveshka's frightened wish that the house be safe even before they could cross the room.
He had seen his own house burn. He had been all of five, but he remembered the neighbor saying, The boy's a witch—
The door opened. “ What happened? ” Pyetr asked, arriving in the kitchen. “ Sasha? ”
“ The shelf fell. ” Still shaking, he found wit enough to pick up
His heart was beating so he could almost hear it. He could imagine the old man wanting to go on living— wanting his way with them and with his daughter, because Uulamets had held this woods more than a hundred years, and Uulamets was not the kind to give up on anything, least of all his life or his purposes.
Maybe that wish is still going, god, maybe I'm still part of it, and it's still going, because I can't not wonder. I wonder what will become of us, and whether we're right to hold on to our hearts and whether we' ll be good wizards or bad—and what if I didn't like the answer? There's so much that could go wrong. Or even what if it was good? How can you enjoy what you've got if you can see everything that ever will happen to it?
But Uulamets wanted to know what would come after him. And I'm scared to know even where I'm going. Maybe that's why a bannik’s never come. He used to say, Don’t -know and afraid-to-know always wins a tug of war—
The pen dried while he was thinking. He dipped it again in the inkpot and made his crabbed, unskillful letters, writing so no wish could make him forget what he had thought tonight, hoping to the god that Eveshka was not awake and eavesdropping.
So in one sense the horse might not have been a mistake. I need something to get my mind off all the might-be's I've been worrying about since we built the bathhouse. When you start worrying about might-be's, that worry is wishing about things that aren't even so yet, and then it wishes on what you've changed, and the god only knows what kind of damage you could do. I'm afraid master Uulamets did a little of that. So maybe wizards have to be very careful with banniks. But wizards wish on their guesses, too, and their guesses might be a lot less reliable than that.
It does disturb me that I forgot wishing for Volkhi—but then, if I had remembered, I'd certainly have done something to stop it; so maybe after all even forgetting was part of the wish. Maybe I had to forget so it had a chance to come true, and it's good after all.
Things change that can change and wishes only take the shape they can take. Never wish things against nature or against time ...
Wish a stone to fly, master Uulamets had said—then beware of the whirlwind.
Wish a horse from Vojvoda ... god, one could imagine dreadful things that could have brought the horse to them: a rider lulling and breaking his neck, a stable burning—the whole town of Vojvoda going up in smoke or being put to the sword ...
A whole host of might-be's like that—while a draft twisted the lamp-flung shadows at the end of the kitchen; and he thought with a sudden shudder of the worst thing in the world to disturb, that forbidden, thorn-hedged place where leshys watched, patient as the trees themselves ...
Something cracked, the whole shelf above him tipped on one end, books and pottery came crashing down onto the table and off it in a thunderous tumble. He scrambled back, the bench scraping as he caught his balance against the table edge and overset the oil-lamp. He grabbed for something to smother the spreading fire, feverishly wished it out and flung a towel over it, trembling in fright as the last bits of pottery rocked and rattled to a stop.
The threatened House-thing, roused from sleep, shifted among the cellar supports and made the whole house creak. He heard Pyetr and Eveshka getting out of bed, Pyetr calling out, asking him what was the matter; and he felt Eveshka's frightened wish that the house be safe even before they could cross the room.
He had seen his own house burn. He had been all of five, but he remembered the neighbor saying, The boy's a witch—
The door opened. “ What happened? ” Pyetr asked, arriving in the kitchen. “ Sasha? ”
“ The shelf fell. ” Still shaking, he found wit enough to pick up
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