Free Below the Root by Zilpha Keatley Snyder Page A

to help us find our way about in this huge nid-place on this long day, which has left us quite exhausted. But perhaps you should quickly show us where we are to eat and sleep, as the night rains will soon begin and you will be unable to reach your own nid-place.”
    “You do not understand,” Ciela said. “My nid-place is here. I am assigned. You will find that with your special duties and responsibilities as the parents of a Chosen, you will have little time for such tasks as nid-weaving and food preparation.”
    “Valdo?” Hearba said questioningly, clearly asking him to intervene, and Raamo easily pensed her distress at the thought of sharing their nid-place with a stranger. But when Valdo responded by offering his thanks to Ciela, Hearba tried again. “We have always cared for our own—” she was saying when Ciela interrupted.
    “You have never had the care of so large a nid-place,” Ciela said, “nor the many responsibilities of a Chosen family. I think you will find that you need my help.”
    “Who is it that sends—” Hearba began haltingly, and then paused, troubled that the stranger might find her thoughtless and ungrateful.
    “By whom was I assigned?” Ciela asked. “By the Ol-zhaan. There is a helper assigned by the Ol-zhaan to the family of every Chosen, as I have been assigned to you.”
    Hearba bowed her head to signify her acceptance of the wisdom of the Ol-zhaan, the holy leaders of Green-sky.
    In the days that followed, Raamo remained with his family in the new nid-place. Just as before, his father and mother went daily to work as harvester and embroiderer, and Pomma returned to her classes at the Garden. But there were many differences.
    The D’ok family members were now persons of honor, and as such they found many differences in old familiar situations and relationships. People with whom they had long worked and played—friends with whom they had, only a few weeks before, danced and sung in the grund-halls, beloved friends with whom, in their Youth Hall days, they had once daily practiced rituals of close communion, even those with whom, as infants, they had once played Five-Pense—all these now stepped aside to let them pass and even asked them for advice in important matters—as if they had suddenly become authorities on everything from the nesting habits of trencher birds to the best way to cure an infant of fits of tearfulness.
    Relationships within the family changed also, at least for a time. But as the days went by, old habits overcame newly acquired attitudes of respect and reverence—and soon Raamo was scolded and instructed by his parents and teased by his sister very much as before. At times it was hard for them to remember that he was soon to be transformed into a being of holy wisdom and great power. There were times when Raamo, himself, was almost able to forget.
    There were, however, many reminders. From time to time a messenger, usually one of the novice Ol-zhaan, would arrive to escort Raamo to the temple to take part in a ceremony or celebration, or to a guild or assembly hall where he was to be honored at a public gathering or banquet. At such times Raamo and Genaa proceeded along branchpaths in a small procession, led by a symbol-bearing novice and followed by small crowds of admiring Kindar. Gradually Raamo became accustomed to the crowds and began to expect and enjoy the shouts of praise and commendation. The gracious gesture of response and gratitude became easy, and almost as natural as a smile.
    “Why do they cheer and shout for the Chosen only during their year of honor?” Raamo asked their novice guide one day while they were on their way to the temple. They had just reached the midheights of Stargrund, and the cheering crowds had been left behind. The novice, a short, round-faced youth called D’ol Salaat, had, himself, been a Chosen only the year before. His glance was quick and narrow as Raamo went on, “I don’t understand why there is no more