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powerful neck.
"Follow the way, my friend," Taran murmured. "Surely you know it
better than I do."
At daybreak Adaon raised his hand and signaled a halt. Throughout
the night they had ridden, as it seemed to Taran, down a long series of
descending slopes. They were still in the Forest of Idris, but here the ground
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had leveled a little. Many of the trees were yet covered with leaves; the
undergrowth was thicker; the land less stark than the hills around Dark Gate.
Doli, his pony snorting white mist, galloped up to report no sign of the
Huntsmen on their trail.
"How long that sallow mealworm's powder lasts I couldn't guess,"
said the dwarf. "And I don't think it'll do us that much good anyway. If
Arawn's looking for the cauldron, he's going to look hard and close. The
Huntsmen must know we've come in this general direction. If enough of them
keep after us, sooner or later they're bound to find us. That Gwystyl--- for
all the help he's been! Humph! And his crow, too. Humph! I wish we hadn't run
into either of them."
Ellidyr had dismounted and was anxiously studying Islimach's left
foreleg. Taran, too, swung down and went to Ellidyr's side. The horse whinnied
and rolled her eyes as he approached.
"She has gone lame," Taran said. "Unless we can help her, I fear she
will not be able to hold the pace."
"I need no pig-boy to tell me that," answered Ellidyr. He bent and
examined the mare's hoof with a gentleness of touch which surprised Taran.
"If you lightened her burden," Taran suggested, "it might ease her
for a while. Fflewddur can take you up behind him."
Ellidyr straightened, his eyes black and bitter. "Do not give me
council on my own steed. Islimach can go on. And so she will."
Nevertheless, as Ellidyr turned away, Taran saw his face fill with
lines of worry. "Let me look at her," Taran said. "Perhaps I can find the
trouble." He knelt and reached toward Islimach's foreleg.
"Do not touch her," cried Ellidyr. "She will not abide a stranger's
hands."
Islimach reared and bared her teeth. Ellidyr laughed scornfully.
"Learn for yourself, pig-boy," he said. "Her hooves are sharp as knives, as
you shall see."
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Taran rose and grasped Islimach's bridle. For a moment, as the horse
lunged, he feared she would indeed trample him. Islimach's eyes were round
with terror; she whickered and struck out at him. A hoof glanced against his
shoulder, but Taran did not loosen his hold. He reached up and put a hand to
Islimach's long, bony head. The mare shuddered, but Taran spoke quietly and
soothingly to her. She tossed her mane, the straining muscles relaxed; the
reins went loose and she made no attempt to draw away.
Without stopping the flow of reassuring words, Taran raised her
hoof. As he had suspected, there was a small, jagged stone wedged far back
behind the shoe. He drew his knife. Islimach trembled, but Taran worked
quickly and deftly. The stone came free and fell to the ground.
"This has happened even to Melynlas," Taran explained, patting the
roan's flank. "There's a place deep in the hoof anyone can miss it if they
don't know. It was Coll who showed me how to find it."
Ellidyr's face was livid. "You have tried to steal honor from me,
pig-boy," he said through clenched teeth. "Will you now rob me of my horse?"
Taran had expected no thanks, but the angry thrust of Ellidyr's
words took him aback. Ellidyr's hand was on his sword. Taran felt a surge of
answering anger, a flush rising to his cheeks, but he turned away.
"Your honor is your own," Taran answered coldly, "and so is your
steed. What stone is in your shoe, Prince of Pen Llarcau?"
He strode to his companions, who had taken cover in the tangle of
brush. Gurgi had already opened the wallet and was proudly distributing its
contents. "Yes, yes!" Gurgi cried gleefully, "crunchings and munchings for
all! Thanks to generous, kindhearted Gurgi! He will not let brave warriors
suffer bellies filled only with howlings and growlings!"
Ellidyr remained behind, patting Islimach's neck and murmuring in
the roan's ear. Since he made no move to join the companions at their meal,
Taran called out to him. But the Prince of Pen-Llarcau only gave him a bitter
glance and remained with Islimach.
"That foul-tempered nag is the only thing he cares about," muttered
the bard, "and as far as I can see, the only thing that cares about him.
They're two of a kind, if you ask me."
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Adaon, sitting a little apart from the others, called Taran to him.
"I commend your patience," he said. "The black beast spurs Ellidyr cruelly."
"I think he'll feel better once we find the cauldron," Taran said.
"There will be glory enough for all to share."
Adaon smiled gravely. "Is there not glory enough in living the days
given to us? You should know there is adventure in simply being among those we
love and the things we love, and beauty, too.
"But I would speak to you of another matter," Adaon went on. His
handsome face, usually tranquil, was clouded. "I have few possessions, for I
count them of little importance. But these few I treasure: Lluagor, my packets
of healing herbs, and this," he said, touching the clasp at his throat, "the
brooch I wear, a precious gift from Arianllyn, my betrothed. Should any ill
befall me, they are yours. I have watched you closely, Taran of Caer Dallben.
In all my journeys I have met no one else to whom I would rather entrust
them."
"Do not speak of ill befalling you," Taran cried. "We are companions [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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