This year marks some important anniversaries for the pioneering science fiction and fantasy writer Ursula K. Le Guin: The 50th Anniversary of The Tomb of Atuan and The Lathe of Heaven, The Difference Between Earth and Sea The 20th anniversary of "The Wind" and "Earth Sea Story". Today, we have an excerpt from the story of the Earth Sea "On the High Swamp" (it is also in the The Found and the Lost series)-this is a perfect treat for Le Guin fans who passed away in 2018, as well as newcomers. , Because there is no better time to start reading and appreciating her work.

As an added bonus, we also received some lovely artworks by Charles Vess, which first appeared in the illustrated volume of The Book of Earth and Sea released by Saga in 2018.

Semel Island’s north and west are separated from Hafno by the Pernish Sea, and are located in the south and west of the Enrades Mountains. Although it is one of the big islands in the Earth Sea Islands, there are not many stories about Semel. Enrad has a glorious history, Hafnor has wealth, Paen has notoriety, but Semel only has cattle and sheep, forests and small towns, and there is a huge silent volcano called Andanden.

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There is a piece of land south of Andanden. When the volcano spoke for the last time, the ash fell to a depth of 100 feet. Rivers and streams traverse the plain, meandering, meandering, meandering, meandering, turning into a swamp, a desolate land of water, a long horizon, sparse trees, and a sparse population. Fertile, bright grass grows on the gray ground, where people raise cattle, fatten beef for the populous southern coast, let the animals wander on the plains for miles, and the rivers act as fences.

Just like a mountain, Andantan creates the weather. It gathered clouds around it. Summer is very short, winter is very long, on the high swamp.

On the eve of dawn one winter day, a traveler stood at the intersection of two small roads, neither of which was very promising, but a cattle road among the reeds, looking for signs of the way he should go.

When he walked down the last slope of the mountain, he saw a village not far away with houses everywhere in the swamp. He thought he was on the way to the village, but made the wrong turn somewhere. The tall reed grows beside the path, so if the light shines anywhere, he can't see it. The water chuckled softly somewhere near his feet. He bypassed Andanton on the cruel road of black lava and ran out of his shoes. The soles of his shoes were worn out, and his feet were aching from the cold dampness of the swamp trail.

It darkens quickly. A cloud of haze rose from the south and obscured the sky. Only above the huge and dim mountain can the stars burn clearly. The wind whistled through the reeds, soft and gloomy.

The traveler stood at the crossroads, whistling at the reeds.

Something moves on one of the tracks, something big, dark, in the dark.

"My dear, are you there?" said the traveler. He speaks in ancient speech, the language of creation. "Come on, then, Ulla," he said, and the Heifer took a step or two towards him, towards her name, and he walked over to greet her. He recognized the big head more by touch than by sight, stroking the silky droop between her eyes, scratching her forehead with the small rounded roots. "Pretty, you are beautiful," he told her, breathing her grassy breath, leaning against her warm body. "Will you lead me, dear Ulla? Will you take me where I need to go?"

He was lucky enough to meet a heifer on the farm, not a stray cow that would only take him deep into the swamp. His Ula likes to jump the fence, but after she wanders for a while, she will start to feel good about the cowshed and her mother. She sometimes steals a mouthful of milk; now she is willing to take the traveler home. She walked slowly but purposefully, down a track, and when the road was wide enough, he walked with her with one hand on her hip. When she wade through the knee-deep stream, he grabbed her by the tail. She climbed up the muddy low bank and let go of her tail, but she waited for him to get up more awkwardly behind her. Then she moved forward slowly. He pressed on her flanks and hugged her tightly, because the stream had frozen him to the bone, and he was trembling.

"Moo," his guide said softly, and he saw a little dim yellow square to his left.

"Thank you," he said, opening the door for Heifer, and Heifer went to greet her mother while he staggered through the dark yard to the door.

Berry should be outside the door, although she didn't know why he knocked on the door. "Come in, idiot!" she said, and he knocked on the door again, and she put down the stitches and walked to the door. "Are you drunk already?" she said, and then saw him.

The first thing she thought of was a king, a lord, Maharien in the song, tall, tall, and beautiful. Next she thought of a beggar, a lost person, dressed in dirty clothes, hugging herself with trembling arms.

He said: "I'm lost. Did I go to the village?" His voice was hoarse and harsh, it was a beggar's voice, but it was not a beggar's accent.

"Half a mile left," Gift said.

"Unless you come to Olabi, twelve miles south." She just considered it briefly. "If you need a room for the night, I have one. Or maybe San, if you're going to the village."

"If I can, I will stay here," he said in a noble manner, his teeth trembling and grabbing the door frame to keep standing.

"Take off your shoes," she said, "they are soaking wet. Then come in." She stood aside and said, "Come by the fire," and then asked him to sit down near the fireplace at Brun's house. . "Stir the fire a little bit," she said. "Would you like some soup? It's still hot."

"Thank you, hostess," he whispered, squatting by the fire. She brought him a bowl of broth. He drank eagerly and cautiously, as if he hadn't been used to hot soup for a long time.

"You came from the mountain?"

"Come here," he said. He started to tremble less. His bare feet are a sad sight, bruised, swollen, and drenched. She wanted to tell him to put them in the warmth of the fire, but didn't want to assume. No matter what he is, he is not a willing beggar.

"Not many people come to the high swamp," she said. "Vendor or something. But not in winter."

After he finished the soup, she took the bowl. She sat down in her seat, on the stool next to the oil lamp to the right of the fireplace, and began to mending. "Get warm, and then I will show you your bed," she said. "There is no fire in that room. Did you meet the weather on the mountain? They said it was snowing."

"Some light rain," he said. She took a good look at him now under the light and fire. He is not a young man, thin, not as tall as she thought. This is a good face, but there is something wrong, something wrong. He looked ruined, she thought, a ruined man.

"Why did you come to the swamp?" she asked. She had the right to ask and accepted him, but she felt uncomfortable when she asked the question.

"Someone told me that there is a mouse in the cattle herd." Now he is not coldly locked, his voice is beautiful. When they talked about the hero and the dragon king, he talked like a storyteller. Maybe he is a teller or a singer? But no; funeral, he said.

"Maybe I can help the beast."

"Then you will be very popular. The plague among the herds is terrible. And it's getting worse."

He said nothing. She could see the warmth entering him, untiring him.

"Put your feet on the fire," she said suddenly. "I have some of my husband's old shoes." It took her a lot of effort to say this, but when she said it, she felt that she was set free and free. Why does she keep Bren's shoes for? They are too small for Berry and too big for her. She gave away his clothes, but kept the shoes, she didn't know what it was for. For this guy, it seems. If you can wait for them, things will get better, she thought. "I will arrange it for you," she said. "Yours is dead."

He glanced at her. His dark eyes were big and deep, opaque like those of a horse, and illegible.

"He is dead," she said, "two years. The swamp is hot. You have to pay attention to this, here. Water. I live with my brother. He is in the village, in the tavern. We raised one. Dairy products. I make cheese. Everything is fine for our herd," she gestured to avoid evil. "I let them get closer. Outside the shooting range, the cave is very bad. Maybe the cold weather will end it."

"It's more likely to kill sick beasts," the man said. He sounds a little sleepy.

"My name is gift," she said. "My brother's Berry."

"Gully," he paused, and gave himself a name, which she thought he had made up. It does not suit him. Everything in him merges into one, forming a whole. However, she did not have any distrust of him. She is very relaxed with him. He didn't mean to hurt her. She thinks he is kind, just like the way he talks about animals. She thought that he would have a way to deal with them. He himself is like an animal, a silent, wounded creature that needs protection but cannot demand it.

"Come on," she said, "before you fall asleep," he followed her obediently to Berry's room, which was nothing but a cabinet built in the corner of the house. Her room is behind the chimney. Berry will come in, get drunk, and after a while, she will put down the chimney corner tray for him. Let travelers have a good night's sleep. Maybe he will leave a couple of coppers for her. There is a severe shortage of copper in her family these days.

He woke up as usual, in the room of the big house. He didn't understand why the ceiling was low and the air was fresh, but it was sour and cow outside. He had to lie still and went back to another place with another man. He did not remember his name, even though he had said it to a heifer or a woman last night. He knows his real name, but here, no matter where it is, or anywhere is not good. In front of him, there are black roads and steep slopes, as well as a vast green land, cut by the river and gleaming. A cold wind blows. Reed whistled, the little cow led him through the stream, and Emmer opened the door. He knew her name as soon as he saw her. But he must use another name. He must not call her directly. He must remember what he called her. He must not be Irios, although he is Irios. Maybe over time, he will become another person. No; that is wrong; he must be this person. The man’s legs hurt and his feet hurt. But it was a good bed, a feather bed, very warm, and he didn't need to leave. He was lethargic and gradually moved away from Ilios.

When he finally got up, he didn't know how old he was. Then he looked at his hands and arms to see if he was seventy years old. He still looks forty years old, although he feels seventy years old, and moves and winces like he did seventy years old. He put on his clothes, dirty, because it was a journey of days and days. There was a pair of shoes under the chair, worn but sturdy shoes, and a pair of knitted woolen stockings. He put his socks on his tattered feet and limped into the kitchen. Emmer stood in front of the big sink, using the bra to hold the heavy object.

"Thank you for these and shoes," he said, thanking her for the gift, remembering her name, but only saying, "Mistress."

"You're welcome," she said, then put it into a huge pottery bowl and wiped it with her hand on the apron. He knows nothing about women. He has not lived in a place with women since he was ten years old. He had always been afraid of them, the women who had yelled at him a long time ago for him to get out of the other big kitchen. But since he traveled in the Earth Sea, he met women and found that they were easy to get along with, just like animals; unless he frightened them, they didn't pay much attention to him. He tried not to do that. He didn't want and had no reason to scare them. They are not men.

"Would you like fresh tofu? Make a good breakfast." She stared at him, but it was not long, nor did she meet his eyes. She looked at him like an animal, like a cat, but not challenging. There is a cat, a big gray cat, sitting on four paws on the fireplace, staring at the coals. Irios took the bowl and spoon she handed him, and then sat on the chair. The cat jumped next to him, purring.

"Look at that," the woman said. "He is not friendly to most people."

"He knows a therapist, maybe."

The woman and the cat are calm here. He came to a good house.

"It's cold outside," she said. "Ice on the trough this morning. Will you continue today?"

There was a pause. He forgot that he must answer in words. "If I can, I will stay," he said. "I will stay here."

When he saw her smile, she hesitated and said after a long while: "Well, you're welcome, sir, but I want to ask, can you give me some money?"

"Oh yes," he said bewildered, then got up and limped back to the bedroom to get his pouch. He brought her a dollar, a small Enradia gold crown.

"Just for food and fire, you know, peat is too expensive now," she said, and then looked at what he gave her.

"Oh, sir," she said, and he knew he had done something wrong.

"No one in the village can change this," she said. She looked up at his face for a moment. "The whole village can't be changed!" she said, and then smiled. Then it's okay, although the word "change" rang in his mind.

"It hasn't changed," he said, but he knew it was not what she meant. "I'm sorry," he said. "If I stay for a month, if I stay in winter, will that run out? I should have a place to live, and at the same time I work with the beasts."

"Put it away," she said, laughing again, shaking her hands. "If you can cure the cow, the cow will pay you, and then you will pay me. If you want, you can call the guarantor. But put it away, sir! It makes you dizzy looking at it. Dazzling.—Berry," she said when a noble, dry man walked in the door with a cold wind, "this gentleman will stay with us, he is treating the cow-speeding up his work! He gave us a payment guarantee. So you will sleep in the chimney corner and he is in the room. This is my brother Berry, sir."

Berry lowered his head and muttered to himself. His eyes were dull. In Ilios's opinion, this man was poisoned. When Berry went out again, the woman leaned closer, and resolutely said in a low voice: "He has no harm except wine, but he doesn't have much except wine. It has exhausted most of his thoughts and the greatness we have. Part. So, do you understand, put your money where he won’t see it, if you don’t mind, sir. He won’t come to look for it. But if he sees it, he will accept it. He often doesn’t Know what you are doing, do you understand."

"Yes," Ilios said. "I understand. You are a kind woman." She was talking about him, talking about him not knowing what he was doing. She was forgiving him. "A kind sister," he said. These words were so new to him, words he had never said or thought about, so much so that he thought he had already said these words in the mantra, and he could never say them. But she just shrugged, frowned and smiled.

"Sometimes I can get rid of his fool," she said, before continuing to work.

He didn't know how tired he was until he came to the safe haven. He and the gray cat were dozing off in front of the fire that day, and Gift went in and out of her work, providing him with food several times—poor whole grains, but he ate it all, slowly , Very cherish. In the evening, her brother was gone, and she sighed and said, "Thanks to us having tenants, he will get a brand new line of credit in the tavern. It's not that it's your fault."

"Oh yes," Ilios said. "It's my fault." But she forgave; the gray cat was pressed on his lap, dreaming. The cat's dream came into his mind, in the low ground, dark place where he was talking with animals. The cat jumped there, and then the milk, soft and thrilling. There is no fault, only great innocence. No words are needed. They will not find him here. He didn't come here. There is no need to say any names. No one except her, the cat is dreaming, and the fire flickers. He walked over the dead mountain along the dark road, but the stream here was slowly flowing among the pastures.

He was crazy, she didn't know what made her keep him, but she couldn't be afraid of him, and she couldn't distrust him. What does it matter if he is angry? He is gentle, and he may have been smart once before what happened to him. And he was not so angry. Crazy patches, crazy moments. Nothing in him is complete, not even his madness. He couldn't remember the name he told her, so he asked the people in the village to call him Otak. He probably couldn't remember her name either; he always called her his mistress. But maybe this is his courtesy. She politely called him Mr., because neither Gully nor Otak seemed to fit his name. She had heard that otak was a small creature with sharp teeth and no sound, but there was no such creature in the High Swamp.

She had thought that maybe he said that coming here to treat cow disease is one of the craziest things. He is not like the therapists who provide treatments and spells and ointments to animals. But after a few days of rest, he asked her who the herdsmen in the village were, and then walked in Buren’s old shoes, her feet still sore. Seeing this, her heart was turning.

He came back in the evening, lame than ever, because of course Sang had taken him to Nagano where most of his bees were. Except for alder, no one has horses, and they are for his cowboys. She gave her guest a basin of hot water and a clean towel to wipe his feet, and then wanted to ask him if he wanted to take a bath, and he did it. They heated the water and filled the old bathtub, and when he was bathing on the fireplace, she walked into her room. When she came out, everything was cleaned up and towels hung in front of the fire. She had never known a man who would take care of such things. Who would have thought of a rich man? Doesn't he have a servant, where did he come from? But he is no more troublesome than a cat. He washed his clothes, even his sheets, and he had washed them on a sunny day before she knew what he was doing. "You don't have to do that, sir, I will use mine for your business," she said.

"No," he said in that distant way, as if he hardly knew what she was talking about. But then he said: "You work very hard."

"Who doesn't? I like cheese making. I am interested in it. And I am strong. The only thing I fear is getting old when I can't lift the bucket and mold." She showed him her round muscles With developed arms, clenched fists, smiling. "Fifty years old is not bad!" she said. It is stupid to brag about herself, but she is proud of her strong arms, energy and skills.

"Speed ​​up work," he said solemnly.

He has a wonderful way to her cows. When he was there and she needed help, he took Berry's place, and when she told her friend Tony with a smile, he treated the cows smarter than Bren's old dog. "He talked to them, and I swear they would consider what he said. The heifer followed him like a puppy." No matter what he did on the bison farm, the herders began to have a good impression of him. Of course, they will seize any promise of help. Half of San's herd is dead. Alder would not say how many heads he lost. There are cow corpses everywhere. If it weren't for the cold, the swamp would give off the smell of rotten meat. Unless you boil the water for an hour, you can’t drink any water, except for the water from the well, which is here and in the village. This place gets its name.

One morning, one of Alder's cowboys appeared in the front yard with a mule with a saddle on his head riding a horse. "Master Alder said Master Otak could ride her, twelve miles from Dongtian," the young man said.

Her guest came out of the house. It was a bright, foggy morning, and the swamp was covered by gleaming water vapor. Andanton floated above the mist, a huge broken shape facing the northern sky.

The therapist didn't say anything to the cowboy, but went straight to the mule, or hinny, to be precise, the big Jenny who was driven out of San by Alder's white horse. She is white, young, and has a pretty face. He walked over and chatted with her for a while, said something in her big and delicate ears, and rubbed her bun.

"That's what he did," the cowboy said to Gift. "Talk to them." He thought it was funny and dismissed it. He is one of Berry's friends drinking in the tavern, a young man decent enough for a cowboy.

"Is he treating cattle?" she asked.

"Well, he can't lift the coffin all at once. But if he staggers, he seems to heal a beast. Those that have not been hit yet, he said he can stay away from them. So the master sent him all about the range Do what can be done. It is too late for many people."

The therapist checked the belt, loosened the belt, and stood up on the saddle. Although unskilled, the pony did not object. She turned her long, creamy nose and beautiful eyes to look at her rider. He smiled. The gift never saw him smile.

"Shall we go?" He said to the cowboy, who immediately waved to Gift, and the little mare snorted. The therapist followed closely behind. Little Swallow’s legs are very long and she walks very smoothly, her fair complexion gleaming in the morning light. Gift thought it was like seeing a prince riding away, just like the legendary thing, the figure of the horse riding through the bright mist, through the fuzzy dunes of the winter field, disappeared in the light, and disappeared.

Working on the ranch is very hard. "Who doesn't work hard?" Emmer asked, showing her round, strong arms and hard red hands. The cowherd Alder hopes that he can stay on these meadows until he comes into contact with every live animal in the herd. Alder sent two cowboys with him. They built a camp with a piece of ground cloth and a half-tent. There is nothing to burn on the swamp except small bushes and dead reeds. Fire is not enough to boil water, and it will never be enough to warm a person. The cowboys rode out and tried to surround the animals so that he could come to them in groups instead of walking to them one by one as they were scattered on the dry, frosty grass for food. They can't keep the cows in groups for a long time and are angry that they and him are not moving faster. What makes him feel strange is that they have no patience with animals. They treat them as things, like wooden rafters dealing with wood in a river, and only use force to deal with them.

They also have no patience with him, and always want him to finish work quickly; they don't have to do with themselves, their lives. When they talk to each other, always talk about what they are doing in Oraby in the city, and when they are rewarded. He heard a lot about the prostitutes of Olabi, Daisy and Goldie and what they called the prostitutes of the Burning Jungle. He had to sit with young people because they all needed how much warmth from the fire, but they didn't want him to be there, and he didn't want to be with them. He knew that in them, he was vaguely afraid that he was a wizard, jealous of him, but the most important thing was contempt. He is old, and the others are not one of them. Fear and jealousy he knew and flinched, he remembered contempt. He was very happy that he was not one of them, and they didn't want to talk to him. He was afraid of doing something wrong to them.

He got up in the cold morning, and they were still sleeping in blankets. He knew where the cattle were nearby, so he went to look for them. He is very familiar with this disease now. He felt it was a burning sensation in his hands, and if it were more advanced, he would feel sick. Approaching a lying bull, he found himself dizzy and retching. He did not approach, but said something that would relieve the dying person, and then went on.

They let him walk around among them, even though they were wild, he had nothing but castration and massacre. He was happy and proud of their trust in him. He shouldn't, but he did. If he wants to touch one of the giant beasts, he just needs to stand up and talk to it in the language of the silent person for a while. "Ula," he said, calling them names. "Ellu. Elua." They stood, big and indifferent; sometimes, someone stared at him for a long time. Sometimes someone came to him with a relaxed, loose, and dignified footstep, breathing into his open palm. He can heal all those who come to him. He put his hands on them, and on his stiff, hot flanks and necks, he used words of strength over and over to deliver the treatment to his hands. After a while, the beast will shake, or shake its head slightly, or step on it. He would put down his hands and stand there, exhausted and at a loss, for a while. Then there will be another one, big, curious, shy, bold, muddy, and the pain inside is like tingling, tingling, hot hands, and dizziness. "Ellu," he would say, and then walked to the beast and put his hand on it until they felt cool, like a mountain stream flowing over them.

The cowboys are discussing whether it is safe to eat the meat of dead cattle. The food supply they brought was meager at first and was about to run out. They didn't want to ride twenty or thirty miles to restock, but wanted to cut their tongue from a bull that died nearby that morning.

He forced them to boil any water they used. Now he says: "If you eat that piece of meat, you will start to feel dizzy after a year. You will end up staggering blindly and die like them."

They cursed and sneered, but believed him. He didn't know if what he said was true. As he said, this seems to be true. Maybe he wanted to bully them. Maybe he wants to get rid of them.

"Ride back," he said. "Leave me here. There are still three or four days of food for one person. Hinny will bring me back."

They don’t need to persuade. They rode away everything, their blankets, tents, and iron pots. "How do we bring all this back to the village?" he asked the kitten. She looked after the two ponies, and then said hinnies. "Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!" she said. She will miss the pony.

"We must finish the work here," he told her, and she looked at him gently. All animals are very patient, but horses have great patience and are free to give. Dogs are loyal, but more obedient. The dog is the leader, dividing the world into lords and commoners. Horses are lords. They agreed to collude. He remembered walking fearlessly in the huge, feathery carriage and hoof. Their breathing was comfortable on his head. long, long ago. He walked up to the pretty little girl, talked to her, called her dear, comforted her, and made her not alone.

It took him another six days to pass through the swarms of the eastern marshes. In the last two days, he rode to the scattered cattle wandering at the foot of the mountain. Many of them have not been infected, and he can protect them. Hinny carried him bareback, making things easier. But he has nothing to eat. When he rode back to the village, he was dizzy and his knees were weak. It took him a long time to get home from Alder's stable, where he left the chicken. Emmer greeted him, cursed him a few words, and wanted him to eat, but he explained that he could not eat yet. "I stayed there when I was sick, in the sick field, I felt uncomfortable. I can eat again after a while," he explained.

"You are crazy," she said, very angry. This is a sweet anger. Why can't more anger be sweet?

"At least take a shower!" she said.

He knows what he smells like, and thanked her.

"What does Alder pay you for all this?" she asked as she boiled the water. She was still aggrieved, speaking more bluntly than usual.

"I don't know," he said.

She stopped and stared at him.

"You don't have a price?"

"Pricing?" He flashed out. Then he remembered who he was and said modestly. "NO, I have not."

"All innocence," Gift said, hissing. "He will peel you." She poured a pot of steaming water into the bathtub. "He has ivory," she said. "Tell him it must be ivory. He can heal his beast after being hungry for ten days there! San has nothing but copper, but Alder can pay you with ivory. If I interfere with you, I'm sorry. Sir. She rushed out the door carrying two buckets and walked to the pump. These days, she doesn't use the stream to do anything at all. She is very smart and very kind. Why did he live so long among those unkind people?

"We have to see," Alder said the next day, "Whether my beasts are healed. If they can survive the winter, voila, we will know that your treatments are all used up, they are healthy, like. It’s not that I doubt it, but fairness, right? You won’t ask me to pay you what I want to pay you, now will you, if treatment is not taken, the beast is dead after all. Avoid the opportunity ! But I will not ask you to wait for nothing, nor will it. So this is an improvement, for example, regarding what is about to happen, everything is fine between us now, right?"

Even these copper coins are not suitable to be put in a bag. Irios had to stretch out his hand, and the cowherd put six copper coins in it one after another. "Next! That's fair and just!" he said, vast. "Maybe you will see my yearlings at Nagachi Ranch the next day or so."

"No," Ilios said. "When I left, San's herd was rapidly dwindling. I was needed there."

"Oh, no, you are not, Master Otak. When you were in the east, a wizard came. He had been here before, from the south coast, so Sang hired him. You work for me and you will get rich Remuneration. If the beast lives well, it might be better than copper!"

Irios did not say yes, nor did he say, nor thank you, but left without saying a word. The cowherd looked at him and spat. "Avoid," he said.

Ever since he came to the High Swamp, Ilios had this trouble in his mind. He fought against it. One powerful person comes to heal the herd, another powerful person. But a wizard, Alder said. Not a mage, nor a mage. Just a therapist, a cow doctor. I don't need to be afraid of him. I don't need to be afraid of his power. I don't need his power. I must see him, for sure, for sure. If he does what I do here, there is no harm. We can work together. If I do what he does here. If he only uses magic and no harm. Do it like me.

He walked along the scattered streets of Purewells to San's house, about in the middle, across from the tavern. Sang, a stubborn man in his thirties, was talking to a stranger at his door. When they saw Ilios, they looked very upset. Sang walked into his house, and the stranger followed.

Elliot walked to the door. He did not go in, but spoke in the open door. "Master San, it's about the cows you raised among the rivers. I can go to them today." He didn't know why he said that. This is not what he wanted to say.

"Ah," San said, walking to the door, frowning slightly. "No need, Master Otak. This is Lord Nikko, coming up to deal with the little devil. He has cured me before, such as beasts, hoof rot, etc. It's like you have a way to deal with alder, you see. .. "

The wizard walked out from behind Sang. His name is Ace. The power in him is small, tarnished, corrupted by ignorance, misuse, and lies. But the jealousy in his heart was like a raging fire. "I've been here to do business for ten years," he said, looking up and down Irioth. "A man walks in from somewhere in the north and takes my business. Some people will argue about it. The quarrel of wizards is a bad thing. If you are a wizard, a powerful person, that is. I am The good people here know it."

Ilios tried to say that he didn't want to fight. He tried to say that there are two people working. He tried to say that he would not take this man's job from him. But all these words burned away in the jealous acid of the man's disobedience, and burned before they could say it.

Ayes looked at Irios stuttering, his eyes became more arrogant. He started to say something to San, but Irioth spoke.

"You must—" he said—"You must leave. Go back." Saying "back", his left hand slashed in the air like a knife, and Ace fell back on the chair, staring.

He is just a little wizard, a deceiving healer with some sorry spells. Or he looks like this. What if he is cheating to hide his power and competitors hide his power? Jealous opponent. He must be stopped, he must be bound, named, and called. Ilios began to say the words that bound him, and the trembling man shrank, shrank, shrank, and let out a faint, loud wailing. It's wrong, wrong, I did it wrong, I'm sick, Ilio thought. He stopped the spells in his mouth, wrestled with them, and finally yelled a word. Then the man Ayeth squatted there, vomiting and shaking, while San stared and tried to say, "Avert! Avoid!" No harm was caused. But the fire burned in his hands, it burned his eyes when he tried to hide them in his hands, and burned his tongue when he tried to speak.

"On the High Swamp" (c) 2001, created by Ursula K. Le Guin. Originally published by Harcourt. Excerpts are reprinted with permission from Ursula K. Le Guin Literary Trust.

Illustration (c) An illustration created by Charles Vess in 2018, from The Books of Earthsea, published by Saga Press. Used with permission of the artist.

Want to read more? Check out the separate volumes of "Earth Sea Legend" and "Earth Sea Book", the full Saga edition featuring Vess illustrations.

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I just started to read these by myself, late to the party. They may be the most "modern" fantasy novels I have ever read, which is really amazing because they are now 5 years old. This world feels very full and rich. Every page is permeated with culture.