But when the real Habrunt
comes, why talk to dumb clay? Now, unlike Habrunt, who comes and goes,
if the Invisible God knows all and sees all, and is so all-knowing that
nothing escapes His knowledge, why should you speak to a mere fruitless
idol about getting a man, or of many babies, a house, health, and
wealth? Why speak to that which sees and hears not, of avoiding meeting
savage men or beasts without a strong swordsman to shield and protect
you? Why ask that which is itself made of the barren earth, of gaining
good crops without needless sweat, thistle, thorn, or pestilence?"
Nelatha waited, watching closely. But Si'Wren only regarded the idol in
Nelatha's palm in open perplexity.
"I... I do not know," Si'Wren stammered uncertainly. She stared at the
clump of mud, which had already sagged and cracked a little in
Nelatha's upturned palm. Si'Wren somehow felt the wrongness of it,
although she could not say why.
"Well?" Nelatha demanded of Si'Wren. "Is there yet no understanding in
your stony heart?"
But Si'Wren could only stare at her blankly.
Nelatha propped her fists on her ample hips and frowned crossly at
Si'Wren.
"Speak, foolish one."
"Forgive me, Nelatha. I do not understand this," Si'Wren pleaded, with
an apologetic expression.
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