The symbolic images of honest work seemed most right, proper,
and inspiring, and not at all like the false worship of mere graven
things as false gods.
Hence, she perceived that the pictograph of the harvest inscribed in
the sides of the water basin bore less of the idolatrous, and more of
the earmarks of honest record keeping and written language, which
itself comprised her new profession, rather than of the evil mysticism
of idols, depending, of course, on how one looked at it. Anything could
be made to be idolatrous, but some things, like these pictographs,
could be viewed as mere pictures, and as just another form of written
communication. Dimly, Si'Wren sensed that she was onto something new
and vastly different from anything she had ever conceived of in her
mind before. A whole new way of looking at things, far beyond what the
idol-makers of the House of Rababull had been engaged in doing. It was
good to understand this, and she wondered greatly at the clever artist
who had so faithfully decorated the water basin.
Turning to reach past the polished dark wooden ox, Si'Wren retrieved
the vase. In a perfectly expressionless and somber mien, she poured
water into the shallow basin, filling it almost to the rim, and paused
to consider it's reflection, seen by the light of a tall, narrow,
decoratively barred siege window.
Pages:
238
239
240
241
242
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262