The Seven Songs Read Online Free PDF

climb up there yourself.”
    “I know what I’m doing.”
    “Then you haven’t learned anything in the last three weeks! Don’t you remember the first rule of tree speech? Listen before you speak.”
    “Just watch. I’ll show you how much I’ve learned.”
    She strode up to me and squeezed my elbow with her strong hand. “You remind me of a little boy sometimes. So sure of yourself, with so little reason.”
    “Go away,” I barked. “I saved this tree! Brought it back to life! I can make it bend if I want to.”
    Rhia frowned. “No, Merlin. You didn’t save the tree.” Releasing her grip, she pointed at the instrument lying on the grass. “The Flowering Harp saved the tree. You are just the one who gets to play it.”

2: A F ITTING W ELCOME
    Where has all the sweetness gone?”
    I leaned back on the soft, fragrant grass of the gently sloping meadow, careful not to bump my head against the Harp. Even without the use of my eyes, my second sight could easily pick out the plump, pink berries in Rhia’s hand. I knew that her question referred to the berries, which were not nearly sweet enough for her taste. But in the days since our confrontation at the beech tree, I had often asked the same question myself—about our friendship.
    Though she appeared and disappeared at unpredictable times, Rhia never left me for long. She continued to accompany me over the ridges and valleys, sometimes in silence, sometimes in song. She continued to camp nearby, and share most of her meals with me. She even continued to call herself my guide, although it was perfectly obvious that I needed no guide.
    Yet despite her continuing presence, an invisible wall divided us now. While in some ways we traveled together, we really traveled separately. She just didn’t understand. And that continued to rankle me. The thrill of bringing the land back to life, of turning it green with buds and promise, I couldn’t even begin to explain to her. Whenever I tried, she gave me one of her lectures on the Flowering Harp. Or, worse, one of her looks that seemed to pierce right through me. As if she knew everything I was thinking and feeling, without even needing to ask. After all I had done for her! Were all girls as maddeningly difficult as she was?
    I waved at the bush, its tangled branches heavy with pink berries. “If you don’t like them, why do you keep eating them?”
    She answered, still pulling berries off the branches. “There must be some sweeter ones here someplace. I know it.”
    “How do you know?”
    She shrugged carelessly, even as she popped a handful into her mouth. “Mmmff. I just do.”
    “Did someone tell you?”
    “A little voice inside me. A voice that understands berries.
    “Be sensible, Rhia! This bush just isn’t ripe yet. You’d be better off waiting to find another.”
    She ignored me, continuing to chew.
    I tore a clump of grass and threw it down the slope. “What if you eat so many tart berries that you haven’t any room left for sweet ones?’
    She turned to me, her cheeks as packed with berries as a squirrel’s would be with acorns. “Mmmff,” she said with a swallow. “In that case, I guess it would have to be a day for tart berries, not sweet ones. But that little voice tells me there are some sweeter ones here. It’s a matter of having trust in the berries.”
    “Trust in the berries! What in the world are you saying?”
    “Just what I said. Sometimes it’s best to treat life as if you’re floating down a great river. To listen to the water and let it guide you, instead of trying to change the river’s course.”
    “What do berries have to do with rivers?”
    Her brown curls flopped as she shook her head. “I wonder . . . are all boys as difficult as you are?”
    “Enough of this!” I pushed myself to my feet and slung the Flowering Harp over my back, wincing from the old pain between my shoulders. I started across the meadow, the base of my staff leaving a trail of tiny pits in the