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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] the shrieking that had forced me inside earlier. The needle-ice no longer fell, replaced with fine white powder so thick that it blurred like heavy sea fog. You near lost your soul there, young fellow. I wanted to leave him right then. Another person knowing better than I did, ready to preach and not explain. But he hadn t asked anything. So I waited to see if he would explain. He didn t, just walked toward the stable. I followed. XXIV THE WOMAN IN gray watches the roadside from the bench seat of the wagon, holding her staff tightly in one hand. She tries not to think about the similarity between the rolling of the wagon and the motion of the cargo ship that had so recently carried her to Candar. On either side of the road, the dull gray-brown of damp and rotting grass, interspersed with patches of black weeds, stretches to the hills on the north and to the horizon on the south. Beyond the southern horizon lies the Ohyde River, and the point where her journey will end-Hydolar, where the road and the river meet. Ahead on the road, she sees three thin figures, their ragged and uneven walk like that of so many others that she and the wagon have passed. Crack! Hyah& hyah& rumbles the driver without looking at the whip he has cracked or the two draft horses pulling the now-empty wagon that had carried cabbages and potatoes. He wears a heavy belt filled with more than gold, and a cocked crossbow rests on a stand to his right. See anything, Maga? On the road ahead, the two younger men ride a pair of rail-thin horses. The sandy-haired one bears a long rifle, good only against the desperate, but necessary on the road they travel. Beyond them, beyond the three figures that the wagon lumbers around, she can sense only the emptiness of another set of minds, trudging away from Freetown and the soggy desperation of too much rain and too little sunlight. Nothing except some more hungry people& Good for us, at least, rumbles the driver. Never got so much for cabbages and potatoes. She grips her staff and tries not to think about either ships or the gnawing pains in the minds and bellies of the vacant-eyed men and women and children stumbling along the road toward the sunlight of Hydlen. XXV SERS! THE DOORWAY, please! The pleading voice came from what I first took to be a pile of rags and blankets. The stableboy had heaped a worn saddle blanket over a pile of rags and burrowed his own tattered leathers underneath. He was huddled in a nook where he could watch the big sliding door. Beyond him loomed Antonin s coach, not quite lit by an internal flame. Page 96 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Of course, I found myself saying as I quickly slid the heavy slab back into place and plunged the stable back into gloom. Whhhhh& thip, thub, thip, thub& The doorway creaked and rattled in the wind. The darkness didn t bother me, since I didn t seem to need much light to see by any more. Turning toward Justen, I found he had left and walked toward the stalls in the rear. Gairloch was still double-stalled with the other mountain pony, dark gray with a creamy mane. Wheeeee . . : nun& Good girl& I should have guessed. Yours? Justen nodded. Gairloch s male. That won t matter for now. Rosefoot s pretty tolerant. She likes company. Where did you get him? Freetown. Justen nodded again. I thought so. It would be odd for them to have a mountain pony, though. The liveryman led me to believe that was why I could afford him. Mean-tempered. I rescued him from the glue-pots. I shrugged. That was what they told me, anyvway. I shivered. The stable was cold. Not so bad as outside, but not a whole lot warmer than an icehouse. Justen climbed onto the half-wall that separated the stalls. To our right was a tall mare who turned her head in our direction, skittishly. A white blaze covered her forehead. The gray wizard crouched on the stall half-wall and eased toward the outside wall. Just above him was a squarish opening partly framed with hay wisps. He stood up in the opening, his head out of sight. With a sudden jump, he pulled himself up into the space above the stalls. Come on, youngster, and bring that staff you hid next to your pony. They ll rest better, and so will you. He disappeared, and I could hear the rustle of straw or hay. How& ? Can t you sense it? His voice was muffled. He was right, though. When I tried to reach out and feel for the staff, like farseeing, it almost burned into my brain. I grabbed the half-wall for support. After a moment, I reached down and reclaimed the dark staff. To my hand, the wood held only a faintly reassuring warmth. Wheeeee& Gairloch tossed his head, more like a nod. It had to be coincidence. Are you coming, young man? With a second thought, I reached down and grabbed my pack as well, brushing off the straw and slinging it half over my right shoulder. I clambered up on the wall, then scrambled, far less gracefully than the gray wizard, up through the square opening. Ac& chewWWWT The dust will settle shortly. Justen had pulled off his boots and his belt and was piling more of the loose hay into a bed. We re staying here? You can stay where you want. I prefer not to stay under the same roof as Antonin. I sleep better. I sighed. There it was again. More assumptions, more statements, and no explanations. Could you explain a few things to me? Justen stretched out on a cloak that suddenly was more than twice it original size, and looked to be twice as thick. A few. If it doesn t take too long. I m tired, and I intend to leave early tomorrow. I m headed toward a little hamlet called Weevett, and then to Jellico. Jellico s the town where the Viscount of Certis reigns. Once upon a time, Hewlett belonged to Certis, but nobody remembers. Back then all it had was sheep, and no one really cared, even before the dead-lands. Now Hewlett belongs to Montgren, and no one really Page 97 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html cares except the countess. I frowned, trying to sort out my questions. Finally, I gave up. You said my soul was in danger from Antonin. Why? I mean, how could he have hurt me that way? Wooooooooo& rat, tat, tip, tat& Momentarily, the wind picked up and ice chunks rattled against the roof overhead. Justen wrapped the overlarge cloak around himself. Take off your boots. Your feet need the air. He shrugged, trying to make himself more comfortable on the straw. Antonin is the strongest of the white magicians. A chaos-master, if you will. Wielding chaos is extraordinarily hard on both body and soul, and most white magicians die young. Powerful, but young. Antonin, and Gerlis, and by now I would suspect Sephya, have attained the power to somewhat postpone their early demise, by transferring their personality and ability to other and younger bodies, preferably to bodies already equipped with the talent and unaware of their own defenses. You fit the bill admirably. That s why I decided to move you away from Antonin. He was preoccupied with Sephya and her& situation. He didn t really sense you. Your innate defenses are good enough to conceal you from a quick look. I shivered again. Thank you. I struggled and eased off one boot, realizing that while the ice and rain hadn t gotten through the thick leather, my feet were indeed damp. The second boot came off easier, but my left foot was just a trace smaller than my right anyway. Oh, don t thank me. I did it for me, not you. None of us gray magicians could afford to have Antonin controlling a body with your latent powers. His knowledge is already too great. What do you intend, then? Not much. You can devise your own hell once we re clear of Antonin. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |