[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
sorcerer.
His throw struck true. Hearvin swayed and slowly crumpled, blood on his
temple. The spell which imprisoned Tathagres unravelled into smoke. But Emien
saw nothing. Sorcery clove his awareness, sudden and bright as lightning, and
he pitched downward into deepest unconsciousness.
Emien wakened gradually, his mouth foul with the acrid taste of ash. Water
dripped down his neck, and someone shook his shoulder urgently.
"Emien?"
Gentle fingers traced his cheek. The boy stirred, fuzzily aware Tathagres
leaned over him, her hands still damp from the stream.
"Emien?"
Her tone of voice might have moved the boy to joy under other circumstances.
But with his head aching and his senses confused with dizziness, just opening
his eyes was an effort. Speech became more than he could manage.
"Boy, you did well," Tathagres said, her manner more kindly than ever he
might have imagined. "Had you not struck Hear-vin, I could not have won free
Page 72
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
so easily."
Emien blinked. Briefly he wondered whether she could have escaped the red
spell at all without help. Memory returned with the precise clarity of an
etching; Emien recalled the conflict, the stone, and blood on Hearvin's face.
In his mind he felt the soft limp fur of the rabbits when he recovered them,
still warm, from the grass. Yet this time his prey had been human; revulsion
tore through him. He battled a sudden urge to be sick.
Tathagres held him, her touch gentle against his brow. As if she understood
his distress, she spoke again, concern in her violet eyes. "You did right,
Emien. By your oath of service you had no other choice." Her fingers lingered
on his cheek. "You shall accompany me to Cliffhaven. After we deal with
Anskiere, we will return to Kisburn. My liege will be told of your courage in
defending me. He is no mean King. You shall be well rewarded."
Distressed by the warmth of her praise and unable to escape the sting of his
conscience, Emien tensed under her hands. Raised in bitter hardship, he had
been taught to treasure life. Appalled to discover how easily he had struck a
man with intent to harm, he searched the delicate planes of Tathagres' face
with his eyes. She held his gaze. Emien studied her am-ethyst eyes, all
shadows and depth, and complex as weather to fathom.How alike we are, he
realized, and shrank at the thought. He drew an aching breath. Speech came at
last, with difficulty.
"Hearvin," he whispered. "What happened?"
"He is dead." Tathagres shifted, settled herself in the leaves at Emien's
side. Her fine hands went loose in her lap. "You killed him cleanly. Kor's
Divine Fires, how fortunate you chose a rock! Had you thrown a knife, or any
other object crafted as a weapon, the defense ward which grazed you would
certainly have taken your life. But a stone could not be traced except by
direction. Hearvin was caught off guard. He died instantly."
Emien turned aside, rejecting her approval. Though Tath-agres intended
comfort, her words wrought only remorse. He had killed. Neither logic nor
circumstances would alter the wretched truth; the act was beyond pardon. The
details revolted him. The boy gasped, desperately needing to weep. But no
tears flowed, and a spasm of nausea wracked him.
Tathagres caught his shoulders firmly. Emien felt the warmth of sorcery in
her touch. His retching eased, then stilled, and a queer dreamlike peace
flowed over his jangled nerves. Yet not even drowsiness could blunt his need
to acknowledge the con-sequence of his deed. In a voice gone dry and bleak, he
said, "That was murder." The word ached in his throat.
Tathagres bent close and sighed. White hair brushed his face, while her eyes
gazed down, lovely as jewels, and for once clear of intrigue. "By the
Alliance's charter, yes, you committed murder. But you serve me, Emien. I am
subject to none but the King. By Crown Law, Hearvin was a traitor. You shall
never come to trial, I swear it. And the sailors will never talk. They shall
be sold to the galleys and we will use the silver to buy passage to
Cliffhaven." She paused and traced Emien's brow with her fingertips. Her touch
brought weariness and his lashes drooped.
"Sleep now." Tathagres' voice softened, blended into dis-tance like rain over
leaves. The boy sank into slumber.
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]