Odnośniki
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- Gordon Dickson Dragon 02 The Dragon Knight (v1.4)
- Gordon Dickson Dragon 07 The Dragon and the Gnarly King (v1.2) (lit)
- Bailey Bradford [Love in Xxchange 04] What Matters Most [TEB MM] (pdf)
- Jacqueline Lichtenberg [Sime_Gen_04]_ _House_of_Zeor_(v2.0)_[lit]
- John Maddox Roberts Stormlands 04 Steel Kings UC FR6
- Hohlbein, Wolfgang Die Saga Von Garth Und Torian 04 Die Strasse Der Ungeheuer
- Alan Dean Foster Commonwealth 04 Voyage To The City of the Dead
- Dynastia AshtonĂłw 04 Jameson Bronwyn Smak dojrzaĹego wina
- Christenberry Judy Rod Coltonow 04 Duet z solistka
- Jeffrey Lord Blade 04 Slave of Sarma
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"At least two."
Ruari got the last word as he hobbled the second kank and let it go foraging.
The surviving kanks were doing better than their riders. Bugs could eat just
about anything that wasn't sand or rock; people were more particular. They'd
run out of village food two days ago. Ruari didn't consider it a serious
problem; he'd had little trouble hunting up a steady supply of bugs, grubs,
and lizards-more than enough to keep the three of them healthy, but Zvain was
fussy, and Mahtra truly seemed to become ill on the wriggly morsels. She'd
sooner forage with the kanks-which she did, after Ruari rationed out their
water.
It was midafternoon before they were remounted and headed north. Ruari wasn't
as well-organized as Pavek, and certainly wasn't as effective getting Mahtra
and Zvain moving; he owed Pavek an apology-
The half-elf closed his eyes and pounded a tight fist against his thigh.
Pavek's name hadn't crossed his mind since sunrise. He was ashamed that he'd
forgotten his friend for so many hours and was grieved by the memories, once
they returned. The downward spiral between shame and grief hadn't ended when
Mahtra and Zvain both called his name.
"Look-" Mahtra extended her long, white arm.
Wisps of smoke rose through the seared air. They could be mirages-the sun's
pounding heat made everything shimmer by late afternoon. But the smoke didn't
shimmer, and it wasn't long before they saw other signs of habitation. Zvain
prodded their bug's antennae, urging it to greater speed; Ruari did the same
thing-until he got his kank far enough ahead to force the other one to a halt.
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"Not so fast! We don't know what's up there, who's up there, or if they're
going to be friendly to the likes of us." Wind and fire, he was sounding more
like Pavek every time he opened his mouth. "This could still be a trap. We go
in slow, and we go in cautious. Stay close together. Keep your heads down and
eyes open. That's what Yohan would say-"
Pavek, too, but by unspoken agreement, they didn't mention his name.
"Understand?"
They both said they did, and probably with the best of intentions. But
strangers weren't common in this faraway corner of the Tablelands. A handful
of folk came out to meet them while they were still a fair distance from the
settlement. They were mostly human or half-elves, like himself-which was no
assurance of welcome, especially considering that every one of them was armed
with knives, swords, and spears. Mahtra drew the most stares; that was to be
expected, but Ruari drew a surprising number himself. He had Pavek's metal
knife and a greenwood staff lashed to the kank's saddle where it wouldn't do
him any good in a fight.
Still, their kanks could outrun all but the fastest elves. Ruari prodded his
bug to a halt and let the strangers come to them.
"What brings you three to Ject?" one of the humans asked.
Before Ruari could voice a suitably cautious answer Zvain announced: "We
followed a map!" and Mahtra added: "We're looking for two halflings, and a big
black tree."
Chapter Thirteen
So much for keeping their heads down and their mouths shut.
Mahtra didn't know any better. She evidently thought when someone older asked
her a question, she had to answer. But Zvain-? Ruari couldn't excuse his human
friend for blurting out their secrets. Zvain knew the wisdom of discretion and
outright deceit. He'd advised it often enough while they were still in Urik's
purview. Once they were on the barrens, though, following that scrap of bark
Ruari still devoutly believed was a trap, Zvain's common sense and wariness
had evaporated.
The woman who'd asked them their business gave Mahtra and Zvain another
eyeballing before returning her attention to Ruari. She was human and
standing; he was half-elf and mounted on a kank's high saddle, yet she
successfully looked down her nose at him, conveying a wealth of disdain in the
arch of her brow.
"You look a tad underprepared for the mountains and the forests," she said
dryly. "Do you even know where you are?"
Without hesitation, Ruari shook his head. Maybe there was more of Mahtra in
him than he'd thought.
"Ject," she said.
He wasn't sure if that was her name, the name of the settlement, or a local
insult-until he remembered someone had greeted them with the name as they rode
up.
She grabbed his bug's antenna and got it moving forward. He could have seized
the bug's mind with druidry, thwarting her intentions without twitching a
muscle of his own. That would have been almost as stupid as mentioning the map
or the halfling they were looking for. There was an aura around magicians of
any stripe, an indefinable something that set druids, priests, defilers, and
even templars slightly apart. Ruari didn't get that feeling from any of the
strangers around him. He'd need a better reason than stubborn pride before he
gave his own limited mastery away.
Ject was about Quraite's size, counting the buildings or people, but
similarities ended there. Costly stone and wood were common here on the edge
of the Tablelands. Ject's buildings looked as solid as Urik's walls, yet
seemed as hastily thrown up as any wicker hut in Quraite. Striped and spotted
hides from animals Ruari couldn't name cured on every wall. Skulls with horns
and skulls with fangs hung above every door or window. Weapons, mostly spears
and clubs, stood ready in racks outside the largest building. Taken with the
hides and the skulls, they gave Ject the air of a community engaged in
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perpetual conflict.
And perhaps it was. The people of Ject had to eat, and there were no fields or
gardens anywhere, just barrens and scrub plants up to the back walls of the
outer ring of buildings. Ruari had heard tales of four-fingered giths who ate
nothing but meat and the gladiators of Tyr who feasted on the flesh of those
they defeated, but most folk required a more varied diet to remain healthy. If
the Jectites were like most folk, they had to be getting their green foods and
grain from somewhere else, possibly from a forest, if not from a field.
The human woman had mentioned mountains, which Ruari could see, and forests,
which he could not. Beyond the mountains, there might be forests where the
Jectites got their food, where the creatures whose hides and skulls were
fastened to Jectite houses lived free, and where trees with bark smooth enough
and pale enough to serve as parchment might grow.
For the first time since they'd left Codesh, Ruari thought they might have
come to the right place. He wished Pavek were with them to savor the
triumph-and to negotiate with the Jectites for the guide they'd need for the
next step in the journey. But Pavek wasn't here. Ruari stared at the mountains
oblivious to everything else and waiting for the ache to subside.
By the time Ruari was himself again, they'd circled Ject's largest building
and stopped in front of a warren of animal pens. Kanks, inixes, and such
domestic animals were kept in one set of enclosures, while others held living
examples of the beasts whose hides decorated the Jectite walls. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]