| OCR Text |
Show 72 "In the lands to the southeast where the waters are warm, where columns made by ancient builders rise white against the sky." I thought about that, but I was too unlearned to know what he meant. "How did you come to speak our language so well, if you are not from Germany?" "It is a gift I have. I can slip into tongues the way other men slip into clothes." I wiggled on the uneven ground. I wanted to ask him so many questions, but I knew I had to be careful. I felt as if I were trying to lure a wild bird, and any unexpected movement would send it soaring out of my reach. "About God, Gast, you said we'd talk about it one day. Do you believe in God?" "Not your God." "Then what god?" I was speaking so cautiously that I almost whispered. "What is your god called?" He answered, "So many centuries ago that it is almost beyond remembering, the god Alexander came with his soldiers to the white-topped mountains. My people are descended from Alexander's men. We believe that some day the golden-haired Alexander, whom we call Iskander, will come back to us." "What...are your people called, Gast?" "Rom." He spoke so softly that I could hardly hear him. "We are Rom, and that is what you may call me now. Because I am no longer Gast, the stranger, to you. I am Rom, of the tribe of Rom." |
