-
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
not fitting if you don't." And Stealth had looked around him, spied the
magician's globe which lay tumbled off its golden stand and picked it up. A
moment's examination confirmed Niko's first impression: the globe was studded
with precious stones and marked with arcane glyphs, its diameter such that it
fit nicely under his arm.
He'd brought it back and held it out: "Here. This globe's for you. My share
and yours will more than cover what it's worth, and I want to call us even.
You'll make good use of mis, I own."
"Oh, my Niko. I couldn't& " The mage murmured, his astounded countenance
confirming that this was just the sort of spoils to put a gleam in an
enchanter's eye.
"You'd better. Or I'll tear you limb from limb." He'd tossed the globe and
Randal was at pains to catch it before it hit the floor and smashed.
So he'd come out even not beholden to some Hazard of the mageguild or stuck
with a right-side partner he didn't want or need. His men had fared well,
luckier than some. There were six
biers to be lit and seven seriously wounded who'd need litters to be carried
down or have to stay awhile in the citadel, which was undergoing intense and
fervid purification to purge it of all traces of evil. Niko could see the
smoke and hear the chanting of Bashir's Successors and even see Enlil's
sanctifying glow upon the remaining towers as he and Randal took their leave.
Tempus had given him a fond and personal farewell, singled him out for
commendation, a thing which made him proud. But when they'd walked atop the
ramparts talking, man to man like equals, about what the victory could come to
mean with Bashir in control of Wizardwall so that the war was now a war of
men Mygdonia against Imperial Ranke, soldier to soldier, priest to priest,
lowly mage to lowly mage his sister had come out to join them. Niko had fallen
silent, remembering the time she'd grabbed him by the belt at the Vulgar
Unicorn and offered him her favors. She made him even more uncomfortable this
day, telling him while Tempus listened that the dream lord loved him and
coveted his allegiance, and that any time he wished he could call on Aakelon
for help or counsel through his dreams.
Page 147
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
And the Riddler had said nothing, staring off over a mountainside of
frostbitten grass and dead, brown clover, his tiny kill-smile pulling at the
corners of his mouth.
Niko had objected heatedly that special favors from ente-lechies in higher
spheres were something he didn't crave and offered back the cuirass, sword and
dirk.
"You'd best keep them, fighter. You still need all the help you can get,"
she'd replied.
He'd been impolite: "I'm not used to taking orders from a woman. And if I need
a patron, I have
Enlil to call on, as befits a Stepson. So you just tell your unholy boyfriend
'no," next time you see him: I want no part of him& or you."
Then Tempus had turned about, and taken Stealth aside, telling him to go on
ahead and to forget about what she'd said, but: "Keep the panoply. We all need
what help we can get."
So, under orders, he'd done as he'd been bid and brought Randal, one Trôs
horse, and those men he'd led upcountry back to Tyse all but the Successors,
who stayed there in the high peaks with Bashir.
And Bashir had wished him life and offered him a home with them, which Niko
appreciated but declined. He'd loved Bashir, loved him still, but his friend
was too much the instrument of his god. In their younger days it hadn't been
like that, but then Bashir's father had still lived. Bashir had ridden down as
far as the cave with him, though, and they'd embraced and talked about the
future:
"You are still going west to Bandara?" Bashir had asked, his wide brow knit
with worry lines and flat face full of care.
"I'm not sure. The fighting made me think I might be better off solving my
problems on my own no gods, no adepts, no special help& just me. That's it in
the end, I've come to think: just you. That's all any of us have got."
Bashir had tsk'd mournfully: "Shrivel me, Niko, if you weren't so stubbornly
agnostic, you'd make a formidable warrior-priest."
"No thanks. Gods have bloody hands. I'm reverent from a distance. I don't want
to be any closer to the gods than death will bring me, and for that
companionship, I'm content to wait."
So they'd parted on a note of honesty, each wishing the other was different
than he'd become.
But the sable horse was just exactly right perfect, Niko thought. With all the
responsibility of leading men in battle, he'd not had time to revel in just
how good was this horse he had. Even the shadow cast over the gift by its
source had been banished by the sunny days through which he rode it down to
Tyse, a dozen fighters at his back. Tempus had spoken of breeding the
reclaimed Trôs
horses and both the sables during the coming winter quartering: a stud farm
could be purchased by
Stealth and his commander; they'd buy a dozen mares and charge no stud fee to
Stepsons. Both the
Riddler and Niko were eager to see if the sables would breed true; the sable [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- zambezia2013.opx.pl