Still, Si'Wren could not help thinking that the washer women had it
best of all. To sing, and slap wet rags, and raise babies, and cook.
Was this not bliss?
As she remained thus lost in her contemplations over her work, Nelatha
turned slowly to face Si'Wren and made as if to speak. Sensing
Nelatha's hesitation, Si'Wren paused in her work also, waiting and
watching respectfully.
At this, Nelatha reached up and took the water skin bag from it's hook.
She tilted down the spout, made from the leg-end of a dumb brute beast,
and carefully poured some clear water into an unglazed, shallow clay
bowl.
Then Nelatha said, not to Si'Wren, but to Si'Wren's reflection in the
shimmering watery surface, "Look, Si'Wren! Open your eyes, and behold
Wisdom! Do you not see my reflection in the water, more perfect a
likeness than that of any polished shield in the Master's armory?
Behold how the clear water is almost totally invisible, and yet can you
not see my perfect likeness in it, just like a waking vision? The
Invisible God is so, and sees us in like fashion. We do see Him
indirectly, Si'Wren, just as we see each other in the water's
reflection. For does not all Creation reflect His glory?"
Si'Wren nodded, blinking and smiling timidly as she leaned close beside
her beloved slave sister and replied eagerly to Nelatha's watery
reflection in the clay bowl, "Aye, Nelatha, it is good to pray to the
water, yes?"
"No!" Nelatha slapped Si'Wren's hands away irritatedly, mystifying a
crestfallen Si'Wren, whose weeping brown eyes immediately betrayed her
shock and confusion.
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