“Well, it is a tree; as I am a Fian; as you are a … what?” “But there are distinctions, Kyo! At each village here I ask what are those western mountains called, the range that towers over their lives from birth to death, and they say, ‘Those are mountains, Olhor.’” “So they are,” said Kyo. “But there are other mountains—the lower range to the east, along this same valley! How do you know one range from another, one being from another, without names?” Clasping his knees, the Fian gazed at the sunset peaks burning high in the west. After a while Rocannon realized that he was not going to answer.
