按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
had seen a hundred thousand things happen； and they were all still swirling around inside those eyes； and no one had ever bothered or maybe even known how to get those visions out and make sensible stories out of them。
And Alvin feared mightily that she had some power of witchery that she used to turn Ta…Kumsaw into a White man。
〃My name is Becca；〃 said the woman。
〃His name is Alvin；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw； or rather； said Isaac； for it sure didn't sound like Ta…Kumsaw anymore。 〃He's a miller's son from the Wobbish country。〃
〃He's that thread I saw running through the fabric out of place。〃 She smiled at Alvin。 〃e here；〃 she said。 〃I want to see the legendary Boy Renegado。〃
〃Who's that？〃 asked Alvin。 〃The Boy Rainy God〃
〃Renegado。 There are stories all through Appalachee； don't you know that？ About Ta…Kumsaw； who appears one day in the Osh…Kontsy country and the next day in a village on the banks of the Yazoo； stirring up Reds to do massacre and torture。 And always with him is a White boy who urges the Reds to be ever more brutal； who teaches them the secret methods of torture that used to be practiced by the Papist Inquisitions in Spain and Italy。〃
〃That ain't so；〃 said Alvin。
She smiled。 The flames of her eyes danced。
〃They must hate me；〃 said Alvin。 〃I don't even know what a Inky…zitchum is。〃
〃Inquisition；〃 said Isaac。
Alvin felt a sick dread in his heart。 If folks were tellin such tales about him； why； folks would regard him as a criminal； a monster； practically。 〃I'm only going along with〃
〃I know what you're doing； and why；〃 said Becca。 〃Around here we all know Isaac well enough to disbelieve such lies about him and you both。〃
But Alvin didn't care about 〃around here。〃 What he cared about was back home in Wobbish country。
〃Don't worry yourself；〃 said Becca。 〃Nobody knows who this legendary White boy is。 Certainly not one of the two Innocents that Ta…Kumsaw chopped to bits in the forest。 Certainly not Alvin or Measure。 Which one are you； by the way？〃
〃Alvin；〃 said Isaac。
〃Oh； yes；〃 said Becca。 〃You already told me that。 I have such a hard time holding people's names in my head。〃
〃Ta…Kumsaw didn't chop nobody up。〃
〃As you might guess； Alvin； we didn't believe that story here； either。〃
〃Oh。〃 Alvin didn't know what to say； and since he'd been living like a Red for so long； he did what Reds do when they have nothing to say； something that a White man hardly ever thinks of doing。 He said nary a thing at all。
〃Bread and cheese？〃 asked Becca。
〃You're too kind。 Thank you；〃 said Isaac。
If that didn't beat all。 Ta…Kumsaw saying thank you like a fine gentleman。 Not that he wasn't noble and fairspoke among his kind。 But in White man's language he was always so cold； so unflowered in his talk。 Till now。 Witchery。
Becca rang a little bell。
〃It's simple fare； but we live simply in this house。 And especially in this room。 Which is fitting it's such a simple place。〃
Alvin looked around。 She was right。 It only just now occurred to him that this room was the original log cabin； with its one remaining window casting southern light into the room。 Around it the walls were all still rough old wood； he just hadn't noticed； from all the cloth draped here and there； hanging on hooks； piled up on furniture； rolled up in bolts。 A strange kind of cloth； lots of color in it but the color making no pattern or sense； just weaving this way； that way； changing shades and colors； a broad streak of blue； a few narrow strands of green； all twisting in and out of each other。
Somebody came into the room to answer Becca's bell； an older man from the sound of his voice； she sent him for food； but Alvin didn't even know what he looked like； he couldn't take his eyes off the cloth。 What was so much cloth for？ Why would somebody make it such a bright and ugly unorganized set of colors？
And where did it end？
He walked over to where maybe a dozen bolts of cloth were standing in a corner； leaning on each other； and he realized that each bolt grew out of the one before。 Somebody'd taken the end of cloth from one bolt and wrapped it around itself to start the next one； so the cloth spooled off the end of one bolt； then leapt up and plunged right down into the center of the next； one after the other； making a chain of fabric。 It wasn't a bunch of different cloths； it was all one cloth； rolled up until it was almost too heavy to move； and then the next bolt started right up； with never a scissor touching the cloth。 Alvin began to wander around the room； his fingers tracing the pattern of the cloth； following its path up over hooks on the wall； down into folds stacked up on the floor。 He followed； he followed； until finally； just is the old man returned with the bread and cheese； he found the end of the cloth。 It was feeding out the front of Becca's loom。
All that time； Ta…Kumsaw had been talking to Becca in his Isaac voice； and she to him in her deep melodious way of speech； which had just the slightest hint of foreignness to it； like some of the Dutch in the area around Vigor Church； who'd been in America all their lives but still had a trace of the old country in their talk。 Only now； with Alvin standing by the loom and the food on a low table with three chairs around it； only now did he pay attention to what they were saying； and that only because he wanted so badly to ask Becca what all this cloth was for； seeing as how she must have been weaving at it for more than a year； to have it so long； without never once taking shears to it to make something out of it。 It was what Ma always called a shameful waste； to have something and make no use of it； like Dally Framer's pretty singing voice； which she sang with all day at home but wouldn't ever join in singing hymns at church。
〃Eat；〃 said Ta…Kumsaw。 And when he spoke so bluntly to Alvin； his voice lost that Englishness； he was the real Ta…Kumsaw again。 It set Alvin's mind to rest； knowing that there wasn't some witchery at work； that Ta…Kumsaw just had two different ways of talking； but of course that also set more questions into Alvin's mind； about how Ta…Kumsaw ever learned such talk。 Alvin never even heard so much as a rumor about Ta…Kumsaw having White friends in Appalachee； and you'd think a tale like that would be known。 Though it wasn't hard to guess why Ta…Kumsaw wouldn't want it noised around much。 What would all those het…up Reds think if they saw Ta…Kumsaw here and now？ What would it do to Ta…Kumsaw's war？
And e to think of it； how could Ta…Kumsaw wage such a war； if he had true White friends like the folk of this valley？ Surely the land was dead here； at least as the Reds knew it。 How could Ta…Kumsaw bear it？ It left such a hunger in Alvin that even though he packed bread and cheese down his throat till his belly poked out； he still felt a gnawing inside him； a need to get back to the woodland and feel the song of the land inside himself。
The meal was filled with Becca's pleasant chatter about doings in the valley； her saying names that meant nothing to Alvin； except any one of them could have been the name of a body back in Vigor Church there was even folks nam