[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
alternate doors to the sanctuary, not the one Rof had indicated as his escape
path. The voices were human and familiar.
Jathelle ran to the door, searching for a latch, calling through the cracks in
the panels. "Is that you, Miquit?"
"LaRenya! We are here! Utaigh and myself! We will save you from the wizard!"
Those within the chamber laughed at those earnest pronouncements.
Rof acted hurt that anyone had doubted his word. "You see?" He pocketed the
magic cure Tyrus had given him and turned toward his chosen exit.
"Take nothing of the Death God's," Tyrus warned him. "Leave his property here.
All of it. And leave horses for us, or I will enchant you further."
Rof rolled his eyes at this threat, then smiled. "Willingly! I can always
steal more horses no! Buy them, with the coin LaRenya will pay me& "
Tyrus brushed Rof's mind while the bandit's guard was down. The sorcery was
thoroughly successful. The Krantin's brain was emptied of knowledge concerning
Erejzan's banished curse or Ilissa's rape. If necessary, he would work the
same forgetfulness on Jathelle's men, and on
Hissa herself, perhaps, if the princess wished it. With this, Vraduir's evil
would truly end. The cruel reminders of his wizardry would be left here in the
citadel with the sacrificed sorcerer.
The door gave way under battering. Only stout wood and metal hinges had barred
the way to Miquit and Utaigh. The force that had locked the sanctuary earlier
was gone. Doors were merely doors now.
The men hailed Jathelle, their voices tangling as they both described the
fierce battle they had fought against the brigands and Vraduir's beasts. They
grieved that Sergeant Neir and troopmen Ris and Xan were slain. So were the
outlaws. Rof's name did not enter the tale, Tyrus noted.
In truth, the bandit lord must have abandoned that fray as soon as possible
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and gone on his own quest for prey and gold. Utaigh was swaying, weak from
blood loss from a badly-cut arm. Miquit was bruised and gory and complaining
that he had lost his sword in the melee. But they were alive, and Rof's
promise was proved.
Tyrus walked to the door Rof had thrown open as Miquit and Utaigh had been
entering by another portal. Absently, Tyrus heard the chatter between Jathelle
and her faithful followers. They were coming after him, the babble abating as
Jathelle asked, "Where is the bandit& "
There was a staircase at the end of the hall beyond the doors. Rof had stopped
on the topmost step, and he called back to them. "LaRenya, remember! Send my
reward to the Inn of the Cutpurses! I guarantee no harm will come to your
messenger, no harm at all! On my oath!"
Miquit and Lieutenant Utaigh would have pursued him, but Jathelle ordered them
not to. They heard Rof's footfalls pattering down the stairs and away into the
vastness of the citadel. Belatedly, the courtier and
Utaigh saw Hissa kneeling in the other doorway and whooped for joy.
"LaSirin! She is safe! Safe!" Neither man was so cruel as to comment on her
torn dress and bruises. Indeed, all of them were in rags and hurt, and they
gallantly pretended this was the whole cause of Ilissa's condition.
Jathelle, too, was aware of their kindness, fear for her sister's reputation
gradually fading. She was starting to laugh, the bubbling escape of relief
after trials nearly past enduring. "Rof of the bandits! Such insolence! He
will have his reward, but not from a single messenger. I will send a
well-armed troop, lest my men be robbed as well as the reward delivered!
Tyrus, will& will he still be lord of bandits if he is the only one of his
brigands left alive?"
"Of course. His survival and the reward will prove him strongest among his
kind. They admire such a clever braggard. Watch! He will soon have other
thieves flocking to his rule, hoping the next time they will be fortunate,
too!"
"For gold," Jathelle said wonderingly. "Ah! Well, it is his calling!"
And they embraced, their laughter an intertwining sound, rising to the lofty
ceiling, chasing away fear and cold, for a while.
XIX
The Wizard King of
Couredh
Reality was the persistent cold, quenching the brief moment of celebration. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl wyciskamy.pev.pl
alternate doors to the sanctuary, not the one Rof had indicated as his escape
path. The voices were human and familiar.
Jathelle ran to the door, searching for a latch, calling through the cracks in
the panels. "Is that you, Miquit?"
"LaRenya! We are here! Utaigh and myself! We will save you from the wizard!"
Those within the chamber laughed at those earnest pronouncements.
Rof acted hurt that anyone had doubted his word. "You see?" He pocketed the
magic cure Tyrus had given him and turned toward his chosen exit.
"Take nothing of the Death God's," Tyrus warned him. "Leave his property here.
All of it. And leave horses for us, or I will enchant you further."
Rof rolled his eyes at this threat, then smiled. "Willingly! I can always
steal more horses no! Buy them, with the coin LaRenya will pay me& "
Tyrus brushed Rof's mind while the bandit's guard was down. The sorcery was
thoroughly successful. The Krantin's brain was emptied of knowledge concerning
Erejzan's banished curse or Ilissa's rape. If necessary, he would work the
same forgetfulness on Jathelle's men, and on
Hissa herself, perhaps, if the princess wished it. With this, Vraduir's evil
would truly end. The cruel reminders of his wizardry would be left here in the
citadel with the sacrificed sorcerer.
The door gave way under battering. Only stout wood and metal hinges had barred
the way to Miquit and Utaigh. The force that had locked the sanctuary earlier
was gone. Doors were merely doors now.
The men hailed Jathelle, their voices tangling as they both described the
fierce battle they had fought against the brigands and Vraduir's beasts. They
grieved that Sergeant Neir and troopmen Ris and Xan were slain. So were the
outlaws. Rof's name did not enter the tale, Tyrus noted.
In truth, the bandit lord must have abandoned that fray as soon as possible
Page 164
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
and gone on his own quest for prey and gold. Utaigh was swaying, weak from
blood loss from a badly-cut arm. Miquit was bruised and gory and complaining
that he had lost his sword in the melee. But they were alive, and Rof's
promise was proved.
Tyrus walked to the door Rof had thrown open as Miquit and Utaigh had been
entering by another portal. Absently, Tyrus heard the chatter between Jathelle
and her faithful followers. They were coming after him, the babble abating as
Jathelle asked, "Where is the bandit& "
There was a staircase at the end of the hall beyond the doors. Rof had stopped
on the topmost step, and he called back to them. "LaRenya, remember! Send my
reward to the Inn of the Cutpurses! I guarantee no harm will come to your
messenger, no harm at all! On my oath!"
Miquit and Lieutenant Utaigh would have pursued him, but Jathelle ordered them
not to. They heard Rof's footfalls pattering down the stairs and away into the
vastness of the citadel. Belatedly, the courtier and
Utaigh saw Hissa kneeling in the other doorway and whooped for joy.
"LaSirin! She is safe! Safe!" Neither man was so cruel as to comment on her
torn dress and bruises. Indeed, all of them were in rags and hurt, and they
gallantly pretended this was the whole cause of Ilissa's condition.
Jathelle, too, was aware of their kindness, fear for her sister's reputation
gradually fading. She was starting to laugh, the bubbling escape of relief
after trials nearly past enduring. "Rof of the bandits! Such insolence! He
will have his reward, but not from a single messenger. I will send a
well-armed troop, lest my men be robbed as well as the reward delivered!
Tyrus, will& will he still be lord of bandits if he is the only one of his
brigands left alive?"
"Of course. His survival and the reward will prove him strongest among his
kind. They admire such a clever braggard. Watch! He will soon have other
thieves flocking to his rule, hoping the next time they will be fortunate,
too!"
"For gold," Jathelle said wonderingly. "Ah! Well, it is his calling!"
And they embraced, their laughter an intertwining sound, rising to the lofty
ceiling, chasing away fear and cold, for a while.
XIX
The Wizard King of
Couredh
Reality was the persistent cold, quenching the brief moment of celebration. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]