[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
the prefect even happened to be in Fenard.
The Golden Bowl looked even more dingy in the morning light, yellow plaster
walls grayed and chipped, roof tiles cracked, with some missing. One shutter
beside the front door hung tilted from a single bracket. Cerryl held in a
shiver, noting that it was probably a good thing he hadn t been able to see
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the place well the night before.
He guided the chestnut out onto the narrow street and west, toward the main
avenue, through the sour odors of a city with too many open sewers. There,
even in the early morning, a line of carts trundled to his right, north, in
the direction he hoped led to the central square or what passed for such.
He d only ridden a block or so when he had to guide the chestnut around a
cart that had collapsed, one wheel snapped in half, the cart tilted, and
baskets of potatoes half-emptied into the cart bed-and into the street, and
even the open sewer ditch.
A half-dozen urchins were scooping up the tubers into their ragged shirts,
then scuttling down the alley. Cerryl swallowed as he watched one scoop two
potatoes out of the filth.
Out! Leave a poor farmer alone! The carter lifted a staff, and the
urchins suddenly vanished.
Cerryl kept riding, his eyes never stopping their study of the
surroundings, even when he passed a set of ancient rock pillars and looked
into the central square-just a cobblestoned and open expanse filled with carts
and wagons and hawkers. Most of the wagons were of bare wood, brown or gray,
not like the painted carts in the market square in Fairhaven.
To his right, standing on an empty mounting block, an urchin with cold eyes
studied Cerryl, then looked away.
You! snapped the mage.
Ser? I didn t do nothing. I didn t.
Which way to the prefect s?
You? They won t let you in the gate. The urchin gave a diffident sneer.
My cousin s in the guard there.
Up the hill past Gyldn s. The goldsmith.
Thank you.
Frig you, bravo. The urchin spat.
Cerryl urged the chestnut into the square, eyes traveling across the carts,
the women with baskets, and the two wagons tied on the other side, opposite
what looked to be a warehouse. Two men lugged bundles wrapped in gray cloth
from the wagon through the open door.
Spices! Best winterseed this side of the Gulf&
Ser! Flowers for your lady!
Cerryl shook his head.
Then she be no lady!
The young mage half-grinned, looking for the goldsmith s as the chestnut
carried him around the square. A signboard with a golden chain against a green
background caught his eye, and he made for the place, and the street that
seemed to slope gently up past three-story buildings that bore shops on the
main level and dwellings above.
Scents and oils& scents and oils&
& harvest-fresh roots& fresh roots&
Once out of the square and on the cobblestones of the upsloping side
street, he could make out the walls ahead on his right. The prefect s palace
was indeed walled, and the walls were a good ten cubits high. Two hundred
cubits uphill on the paved street was a gate-or the first gate. While the two
wrought-iron gates were open, the four guards were alert, one studying Cerryl
as he rode by. Cerryl ignored the scrutiny and continued past the gate, a gate
made up of interlocking iron bars forming rectangles that afforded a view of
an empty paved courtyard.
Should he be cautious?
He shook his head. There was a time to be bold and a time to be cautious.
Mostly, in the past, he d had to be cautious, and that had to be what Jeslek
was counting on. Despite Sterol s advice about there being no old bold mages,
if he weren t bold, he d never have the chance to get old. The sooner he
removed the prefect-if he could-and returned to Fairhaven, the better& before
Jeslek s stories could get out of hand.
On the cross street, at the top of the hill was another gate, but it was
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
locked, and chained, and looked not to have been used in some time. On the
north side of the walls was a third gate, where several wagons were lined
up-the tradesmen s gate, Cerryl guessed as he rode by. The bottom gate, less
than a block from the square but north of the street he d taken first, offered
entry, from what Cerryl could tell, only to the guards barracks, and but a
single guard lounged by the guardhouse.
That meant that the southern gate was the one that led where he needed to
go. He rode slowly down another side street, trying to find an avenue that
angled back toward the gate he wanted. The simplest thing would be to cloak
himself in the light shield and follow someone, or someone s carriage, into
the palace-but what would he do with the chestnut?
He smiled-why not just tie the horse somewhere? No one was going to kill a
horse. His rider perhaps, but not the mount. They might steal the mount, but
the chances were less if he tied the gelding somewhere fairly prosperous
looking. He shrugged. If someone stole the gelding, he could find a way to
steal another horse. After what he had to do, horse theft couldn t make it any
worse if he were caught.
He rode down several streets and had to retrace his way several times
before he finally found what he was looking for-several well-kept shops in a
row-not more than a block and a half from the palace walls. The first shop was
that of a silversmith-attested by the painted silver candlestick and pitcher
that adorned the purple-bordered signboard by the door. The second was some
sort of weaver s or cloth merchant, with bolts of cloth shown behind real
glass windows. The third was a cooper s, with a small half barrel set on a
bracket on the left porch post.
Two stone hitching posts with iron rings were set against the cooper s open
wooden porch. Cerryl glanced around, but the cooper s door was shut, although
he could hear muffled hammering within.
He dismounted quickly, tied the gelding, and slipped around the corner of
the building and down the short alley to the side street that led to the
perimeter street that flanked the southern gate to the prefect s palace.
Don t run& Don t hurry& Just look as though you have business to take care
of& The side street curved slightly, and Cerryl stopped at the corner, just
back of a large rain barrel that was held to the timber walls of the dwelling
with an iron strap. His hand brushed the iron, and he felt a tingling, but the
iron didn t burn. Not yet&
Leaning against the wall, in the morning shadows and out of sight of the
gate guards, Cerryl watched the street running up from the main square.
After a while, after a cart and two men bearing something wrapped in cloth
on a long pole between them had passed, an officer with a single gold slash on
his sleeve made his way up the street, his mount s hoofs clicking on the
cobbled paving stones, so much rougher than the smooth blocks of Fairhaven s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
the prefect even happened to be in Fenard.
The Golden Bowl looked even more dingy in the morning light, yellow plaster
walls grayed and chipped, roof tiles cracked, with some missing. One shutter
beside the front door hung tilted from a single bracket. Cerryl held in a
shiver, noting that it was probably a good thing he hadn t been able to see
Page 218
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the place well the night before.
He guided the chestnut out onto the narrow street and west, toward the main
avenue, through the sour odors of a city with too many open sewers. There,
even in the early morning, a line of carts trundled to his right, north, in
the direction he hoped led to the central square or what passed for such.
He d only ridden a block or so when he had to guide the chestnut around a
cart that had collapsed, one wheel snapped in half, the cart tilted, and
baskets of potatoes half-emptied into the cart bed-and into the street, and
even the open sewer ditch.
A half-dozen urchins were scooping up the tubers into their ragged shirts,
then scuttling down the alley. Cerryl swallowed as he watched one scoop two
potatoes out of the filth.
Out! Leave a poor farmer alone! The carter lifted a staff, and the
urchins suddenly vanished.
Cerryl kept riding, his eyes never stopping their study of the
surroundings, even when he passed a set of ancient rock pillars and looked
into the central square-just a cobblestoned and open expanse filled with carts
and wagons and hawkers. Most of the wagons were of bare wood, brown or gray,
not like the painted carts in the market square in Fairhaven.
To his right, standing on an empty mounting block, an urchin with cold eyes
studied Cerryl, then looked away.
You! snapped the mage.
Ser? I didn t do nothing. I didn t.
Which way to the prefect s?
You? They won t let you in the gate. The urchin gave a diffident sneer.
My cousin s in the guard there.
Up the hill past Gyldn s. The goldsmith.
Thank you.
Frig you, bravo. The urchin spat.
Cerryl urged the chestnut into the square, eyes traveling across the carts,
the women with baskets, and the two wagons tied on the other side, opposite
what looked to be a warehouse. Two men lugged bundles wrapped in gray cloth
from the wagon through the open door.
Spices! Best winterseed this side of the Gulf&
Ser! Flowers for your lady!
Cerryl shook his head.
Then she be no lady!
The young mage half-grinned, looking for the goldsmith s as the chestnut
carried him around the square. A signboard with a golden chain against a green
background caught his eye, and he made for the place, and the street that
seemed to slope gently up past three-story buildings that bore shops on the
main level and dwellings above.
Scents and oils& scents and oils&
& harvest-fresh roots& fresh roots&
Once out of the square and on the cobblestones of the upsloping side
street, he could make out the walls ahead on his right. The prefect s palace
was indeed walled, and the walls were a good ten cubits high. Two hundred
cubits uphill on the paved street was a gate-or the first gate. While the two
wrought-iron gates were open, the four guards were alert, one studying Cerryl
as he rode by. Cerryl ignored the scrutiny and continued past the gate, a gate
made up of interlocking iron bars forming rectangles that afforded a view of
an empty paved courtyard.
Should he be cautious?
He shook his head. There was a time to be bold and a time to be cautious.
Mostly, in the past, he d had to be cautious, and that had to be what Jeslek
was counting on. Despite Sterol s advice about there being no old bold mages,
if he weren t bold, he d never have the chance to get old. The sooner he
removed the prefect-if he could-and returned to Fairhaven, the better& before
Jeslek s stories could get out of hand.
On the cross street, at the top of the hill was another gate, but it was
Page 219
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
locked, and chained, and looked not to have been used in some time. On the
north side of the walls was a third gate, where several wagons were lined
up-the tradesmen s gate, Cerryl guessed as he rode by. The bottom gate, less
than a block from the square but north of the street he d taken first, offered
entry, from what Cerryl could tell, only to the guards barracks, and but a
single guard lounged by the guardhouse.
That meant that the southern gate was the one that led where he needed to
go. He rode slowly down another side street, trying to find an avenue that
angled back toward the gate he wanted. The simplest thing would be to cloak
himself in the light shield and follow someone, or someone s carriage, into
the palace-but what would he do with the chestnut?
He smiled-why not just tie the horse somewhere? No one was going to kill a
horse. His rider perhaps, but not the mount. They might steal the mount, but
the chances were less if he tied the gelding somewhere fairly prosperous
looking. He shrugged. If someone stole the gelding, he could find a way to
steal another horse. After what he had to do, horse theft couldn t make it any
worse if he were caught.
He rode down several streets and had to retrace his way several times
before he finally found what he was looking for-several well-kept shops in a
row-not more than a block and a half from the palace walls. The first shop was
that of a silversmith-attested by the painted silver candlestick and pitcher
that adorned the purple-bordered signboard by the door. The second was some
sort of weaver s or cloth merchant, with bolts of cloth shown behind real
glass windows. The third was a cooper s, with a small half barrel set on a
bracket on the left porch post.
Two stone hitching posts with iron rings were set against the cooper s open
wooden porch. Cerryl glanced around, but the cooper s door was shut, although
he could hear muffled hammering within.
He dismounted quickly, tied the gelding, and slipped around the corner of
the building and down the short alley to the side street that led to the
perimeter street that flanked the southern gate to the prefect s palace.
Don t run& Don t hurry& Just look as though you have business to take care
of& The side street curved slightly, and Cerryl stopped at the corner, just
back of a large rain barrel that was held to the timber walls of the dwelling
with an iron strap. His hand brushed the iron, and he felt a tingling, but the
iron didn t burn. Not yet&
Leaning against the wall, in the morning shadows and out of sight of the
gate guards, Cerryl watched the street running up from the main square.
After a while, after a cart and two men bearing something wrapped in cloth
on a long pole between them had passed, an officer with a single gold slash on
his sleeve made his way up the street, his mount s hoofs clicking on the
cobbled paving stones, so much rougher than the smooth blocks of Fairhaven s [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]