The Treasured One. David Eddings

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СКАЧАТЬ south, but it had always seemed to him that cramming people together all in one place was just a bit ridiculous. His father’s farm covered many acres of land spread out over the gently rolling hills, and every crop had its proper place – wheat to the west and south, vegetables to the north, and the orchard close in just to the east of the well-shaded house. Some of the neighboring farmers seemed to think that shade-trees were just a waste of time and space – up until about midsummer, when it turned hot and the sun beat down on them.

      The houses stood far apart in this region, each of the thatch roofed homes standing in the approximate center of each farmer’s land. That seemed most practical to Omago. Daylight was a time for work, not for walking.

      By the time he’d reached his twenty-first birthday, Omago had come to know all the local farmers very well, and he passed his assessments on to Veltan along with whatever those farmers had told him.

      ‘I wouldn’t really take anything Selga comes up with too seriously, Veltan,’ he said one evening.

      ‘Oh?’

      ‘Selga’s got a sort of a problem. He isn’t very tall, and people tend to overlook him. He really wants to be noticed, so he comes by almost every day to tell me about something – anything – that he wants me to pass on to you. All I have to do to make him feel good is to pretend that I think what he just said was terribly important and that I’ll pass it on to you the first chance I get, and assure him that I’ll tell you that he was the one who brought it to my attention.’

      ‘That’s sad,’ Veltan sighed.

      Omago shrugged. ‘Everybody’s got problems of some kind, Veltan. It’s nothing to get all weepy about. People come, and then they go. You know that, don’t you?’

      ‘You can be a very cruel person sometimes, Omago.’

      ‘I don’t make the rules, Veltan. All I do is follow them.’

      ‘How’s your father been lately?’

      That startled Omago. No matter how hard he tried to conceal things from Veltan, his friend always saw right through him. ‘He’s not getting any better, I’m afraid,’ he replied sadly. ‘Sometimes he can’t even remember his own name. He keeps asking for mother, though. I don’t think he remembers that she died last year.’

      ‘I’m sorry, Omago,’ Veltan said with great sincerity. ‘I wish there was something I could do to help him.’

      ‘I don’t really think you should, Veltan. I think father’s getting very tired, and if we keep him here, it’ll just make him more sad. Why don’t we just let him go? I think that might be the kindest thing we can do for him.’

      The following spring Omago was in his orchard when a vibrant woman’s voice came from just behind him. ‘Why are you doing that?’

      Omago, startled, spun around quickly.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ the woman apologized. ‘I didn’t mean to frighten you. Why are you picking all those little green apples?’ She was quite tall, she had long, dark auburn hair, soft green eyes, and she wore a blue linen dress.

      Omago smiled. ‘Apple trees always seem to get carried away in the spring,’ he explained. ‘They want to have lots and lots of puppies. If I don’t thin out the baby apples in the spring, there won’t be any of them much bigger than acorns when they ripen. I’ve tried to explain that to my trees, but they just won’t listen. It’s awfully hard to get a tree’s attention, particularly in the spring-time.’

      ‘You’re Omago, aren’t you?’

      ‘That’s what they call me.’

      ‘You’re quite a bit younger than I thought you’d be. You are the same Omago people come to when they want to let Veltan know what’s happening, aren’t you?’

      Omago nodded. ‘Was there something you wanted me to tell him?’

      ‘Not right now, no. I just wanted to be sure that I’d recognize you in case something came up that I needed to let him know about.’

      ‘You could always go on up to his house and tell him yourself, you know.’

      ‘Maybe, but people tell me that he’d rather hear you tell him these things. How did you get to know him so well?’

      ‘He used to come here to this orchard when the trees were blooming. An orchard in bloom is prettier than any flower-garden. This was my father’s orchard back then, and I was only a little boy. Veltan and I used to talk for hours and hours, so I probably know him better than anybody else around here. That’s most likely why the local farmers decided to use me as their messenger boy. You don’t live around here, do you?’

      She shook her head. ‘No. I live quite a ways away. I was very sorry to hear that your father died recently.’

      Omago shrugged. ‘It didn’t really come as a surprise. His health hadn’t been too good for the past several years.’

      ‘You’re busy,’ she said, ‘and I’m just underfoot. It was nice meeting you.’ She turned to walk away.

      ‘What’s your name?’ he called after her.

      ‘Ara,’ she replied back over her shoulder.

      For some reason, Omago couldn’t get the strange girl out of his mind. He realized that he didn’t know very much about her. She hadn’t even volunteered to tell him her name until he’d come right out and asked her.

      She was obviously several years younger than he was, but her manner of speaking was hardly adolescent. She’d managed to get a great deal of information from him, but she hadn’t given him very much in return.

      He tried to just shrug her off, but the memory of their brief conversation kept coming back, and it wasn’t only the conversation. She was far and away the prettiest girl he’d ever met. Her lush auburn hair reminded him of autumn, and the memory of her vibrant voice sang in his ears. He felt an almost desperate need to find out more about her.

      It was spring, and there were all kinds of things he should be doing right now, but he just couldn’t keep his mind on his work.

      ‘I can’t seem to think about anything else, Veltan,’ he confessed a few days later.

      Veltan smiled. ‘Is she still in the general vicinity?’ he asked.

      ‘That’s what people tell me,’ Omago replied. ‘I haven’t seen her myself, but several other farmers have. They all tell me that she’s been asking a lot of questions – most of them about me. You don’t suppose she’ll just turn around and go on back home again, do you? She didn’t even tell me the name of the village where she lives. How in the world am I ever going to find her again?’

      ‘I wouldn’t really worry too much about that, Omago. She isn’t going anywhere.’

      ‘How do you know that for sure?’

      Veltan grinned broadly, but he didn’t answer.

      ‘I think its time for us to do something about this, Omago,’ that vibrant voice said quite firmly.

      Omago СКАЧАТЬ