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comfort closed about him as a cloak might shelter one against the bitterness of a storm wind.
So he sighed with relief as they laid him on a bunk.
Then Kelemark bent over him, and there was a time of darkness, which was good,
which he welcomed, pushing aside thought
Illylle? Into that warm dark came first the saying of a name, and Ayyar stirred unhappily,
reluctant to acknowledge the need to answer. He tasted sweet warmth, healing his dry mouth,
his aching throat as he swallowed. Through his body spread new energy and well-being. It
was as if he again quaffed Iftsiga's blood.
"What of Illylle?"
Ayyar opened his eyes. Jarvas stood by his side, his eyes intent and searching, as if he
could see into Ayyar's skull, bring out the answer to his question.
"She lies in hiding I could not wake her," he replied. "It was thus "
Once launched into his story, the words came easily. Ayyar discovered that he could
build pictures for the others' seeing, beginning with the journey from the Mirror into the
Waste. He told of their finding the true wood within the Enemy's territory and how they
sheltered there. Of Illylle's giving to him that which had been set in her by the power of the
Mirror, of his journey in the suit, and of what else he had learned in the burrows.
He was aware as he spoke that others gathered behind Jarvas, listening to his words.
But it was to the Mirrormaster that he told this tale, for to him in that company Jarvas was
the leader.
When he described the mirror patterns and their use, the evil wood of illusion, the false
tree and the company under its roots, Ayyar heard their quickened breathing. Then he was
interrupted for the first time. One who was behind Jarvas spoke, and his tone carried
authority.
"This company of Larsh tell us again of them "
Ayyar was impatient, eager to finish his report. But he reacted to the note of command
and once again described the silent line of the Enemy's servants, beginning with the bestial
Larsh, ending with the space-suited figure of one who was wholly man.
"And these, you say, stood in reverse order to the company of the Iftin, beginning
with the Larsh, ending with true man, while an Ift of the final days faced the Larsh?"
Ayyar nodded. Jarvas turned his head to ask of the questioner:
"You believe that this has some special meaning, Olyron?"
"It might. And what was beyond that, Ayyar?"
He continued with the room of the machines, of how his sword had unlocked the lower
passage, of the place of stored mirrors. Again he heard the quickened breathing of those who
listened.
On he continued to the stairwell, which was closed past his power to open. And now
Jarvas asked:
"Are you sure that what you were sent to seek lay below?"
Ayyar did not doubt that in the least or that skill beyond his must be applied to draw that
cork of slagged metal. He told them the rest his fight with the false Ift, the coming of the
garthwomen and children, his return to Illylle, and finally his sight of Amper in the Waste.
When he spoke of that, he heard them stir uneasily.
Once his story was told, weariness again descended upon him. Kelemark must have
sensed that, for he offered a wooden cup, and what it contained was tree sap, spring
sweet, to clear his mind and wash away his fatigue.
"So " Some of the company had gone, but Kelemark, Jarvas, and the man called
Olyron remained. It was the latter who spoke. "So, it would seem that the task yet remains
to be done." His tone was bleak, and Ayyar read into it criticism of the tool that had been
chosen by the Mirror and then failed in action. And he regarded Olyron with answering
coolness. But Jarvas smiled, if fleetingly, with a
warmth for Ayyar.
"We know much more. And we cannot hope to win a war with a single small skirmish.
Tell me, Olyron, who of those with us now holds in his other memory a knowledge of tools
or procedure such as would clear that plug for us?"
Ayyar sat up and cautiously swung his wounded leg around. He found it stiff, but only a
small ache remained, and there was already a scab formed, no need for bandage.
"To use off-world memory there," he pointed out, "is to come unde rThat 's control."
"Then a memory of a memory, perhaps," Jarvas returned. "A memory recalled, given
to another who will use it second-hand and not be caught in the web of his own pre-Ift
self. Possible, Olyron?" The other nodded. "It might be. This this has such tangled roots
that it is hard to trace any one
stem from their supporting. I feel deeply that the line of Larsh has meaning for us if we
could only read it! And these mirrors that can pattern a man, then build a robot from his
image store it as you saw in the cavern An Ift you once knew So do they remain or
only the mirrors? We follow a force that
reaches us through a Mirror yet that is a Mirror of water that lives and even wars
upon occasions, while these reflectors slay or imprison."
Jarvas looked beyond them to the wood wall of the cabin. "Tolhron," he said softly.
"Place of sorrow and of fasting, Of evil everlasting.
Chained are they who lie on Tolhron
By the blood and by the bone Of those who set the spell Delving deep into the
well
Wherein all nothingness doth dwell "
Ayyar saw that Kelemark and Olyron were as much at a loss as he to interpret
Jarvas' chant. Then Jarvas laughed shortly. "Memory again. That is an old tale, one
for children, concerning a
master of wayward arts who set up a place wherein he kept captives. And they could not
be freed because the floor of his prison was mixed with blood and bone over which he had
evil control, so that only when similar blood and bone were brought there might the
prisoners be freed. I do not know why this rises to mind now."
"There was in this story some connection between this Tolhron an dThat ?" asked
Kelemark.
"Not that I can remember."
"In many legends there lies a grain of true history," Olyron commented. "And the fact
that it comes to your mind now If only we knew more of the Oath of Kymon! But your
idea of shared memory has merit. You are sure you can find the right mound again?" he
demanded of Ayyar.
"I made as sure of that as I could. And Illylle?" He turned to Jarvas.
"She can be brought here. Then, I believe, we can restore her. Two parties, one to
rescue her, one to go to the mound "
"Why not one, picking her up on their return?" Olyron wanted to know.
"Because that one might not return!" Ayyar slipped from the bunk, stood up, one hand
braced on the wall. They did not try to hinder him.
Olyron went to the door. "I will ask for any memory that can aid us."
"And what if he cannot find such?" Ayyar perversely saw all the stumbling blocks in their
path.
"Then we shall have to do the best we can without " Jarvas began when Kelemark
interrupted
him.
"There are tools, all we might need at the port "
"A second choice, though whether we could use them is another matter," Jarvas pointed out.
Would
their revulsion hinder that?
"Illylle had me rub the interior of the suit with leaves. I could bear to wear it then," Ayyar
said.
"A good thing to keep in mind. We have substances here that might serve as well,"
Kelemark replied briskly. "Suppose I collect a few. We have not tried that before." He,
too, left them.
Jarvas was staring at the wall again, past Ayyar as if he were now invisible. Tolhron
or some kindred half memory again? If they did not have to depend upon such broken
patches of Iftin history, they would be better armed. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] - zanotowane.pl
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