[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
into the light.
Arhys's sword danced in the sun, a glittering blur. His dappled gray was
crowded up in the middle of a pack of kicking, squealing horses. A Jokonan
soldier who had managed to get his lance unshipped whipped it up over his own
mount's head and jammed it awkwardly, backhanded, across the haunches of the
mount of the man who presently engaged Arhys's sword. Arhys jerked away.
Cattilara screamed as the lance wrenched back again, spattering blood.
"My lord is struck!" cried the bowman, leaning out as tensely as the women.
"Oh no. His sword arm rises. Five gods be thanked."
The horsemen disengaged, the Jokonan swordsman reeling in his saddle. The
spearman saw an opening and galloped through to pursue his retreating
comrades, bending low over his mount's neck; a crossbow bolt whizzed over his
head to encourage him on his way.
Curse it, that spear point had found a mark in Arhys's shoulder; Ista had seen
the shock of the contact shove the Jokonan's hand back, almost ripping the
shaft from his grip. Yet Arhys's sword swung unhindered . .. Her breath drew
in sharply, and she whirled away and started for the stairs.
"Liss, attend me!"
"But Royina, don't you want to see how it comes out
?"
"Attend me."
Not waiting to see if the girl followed, Ista yanked up her lilac skirts and
shuffled down the tight, dark stone curve of the tower stairs. She almost fell
in her haste, then hugged the outer wall and the wider tread, but did not
slow.
Out the door, across another courtyard, under the archway, into the stone
court. Up the stairs. Her feet thumped across the gallery. She tugged open
Illvin's carved door.
Goram was crouched by Lord Illvin's right side, groaning in fear. Illvin's
linen tunic was yanked open and half-down. The groom glanced over his shoulder
at her entry and cried, "Lady, help!"
His hands, she saw as she neared, were pressed to Illvin's shoulder, and gory
with blood. The tunic
sleeve was soaked in scarlet. Ista tore around the room until she found a
cloth that might be folded into a pad, bundled it clean side outward, and
offered it; Goram snatched his hands away just long enough to grab it and
stuff it against the jagged wound in Illvin's shoulder.
"I didn't! I didn't!" cried Goram to her, his eye rolling white-rimmed. "It
just happened."
"Yes, Goram, I know. It's all right," Ista soothed him. "You're doing well."
Almost, she was tempted to squeeze the rope of white fire shut again,
returning the ugly gash to its rightful owner. But now was clearly not a good
moment to drop Arhys senseless from his saddle. Illvin's closed gray eyelids
did not move or flutter or pinch in pain, at least. In his unfeeling state he
might be freely tended, washed with brine, jabbed with sewing needles. So,
Ista wondered dizzily, if the demon permitted him to wake this noon, would the
needle punctures still be there when the wound they held closed fled back to
his brother?
The door swung open; Liss at last.
"Liss. Run at once and find some woman used to tending wounds the Mother's
craft must have much practice here have her bring her soap and salves and
needles, and a servant to carry water as well."
"What? Why?" She trod closer in curiosity.
Page 132
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Lord Illvin is badly cut."
At this point, Liss saw the blood, and she gasped. "Yes, Royina. But how could
. . . ?"
"
You saw the spear thrust."
"
Oh
." Her eyes grew very wide indeed, and she turned and ran.
Goram peeked quickly under the pad and clapped it tight again. Ista hung over
his shoulder. The puncture was not so deep as she had feared; already the
sluggish flow of blood was diminishing. "Good, Goram. Keep pressing."
"Aye, lady."
Ista waited, shifting from foot to foot, until voices sounded again from the
gallery outside. Liss opened the door for a woman in an apron bearing a
basket, and ushered her in; a male servant followed.
"Lord Illvin . . ." Ista began, and glanced at Goram, "fell out of bed and
struck his shoulder." On what?
Ista's invention failed her. She passed rapidly on. "Tend to him and bind him.
Help Goram clean up.
Speak of this to no one but me, Lord Arhys, or Lady Cattilara."
Those of the rescue party from Porifors who hadn't chased after the Jokonans
might be escorting their new guests through the gates just about now, Ista
guessed. She strode for the door. "Liss, attend me."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ISTA HURRIED UNDER THE ARCHWAY INTO THE ENTRY COURT IN time to see the flushed
and gasping Learned dy Cabon sag from his horse into the arms of one of Lord
Arhys's men. The soldier helped the divine totter a few steps to collapse in
the narrow shade of the wall by the almond tree. He held a worried hand to dy
Cabon's face and spoke to a servant, who hurried away. Dy Cabon struggled
out of his semi-concealing brown vest-cloak, letting it fall around him to the
petal-strewn pavement.
Foix, looking almost equally hot and harried, jumped from his horse, threw
down the reins, and strode to the divine's side.
"Curse it, Foix," dy Cabon wheezed, staring up at him, "I told you to stop
playing with that thing."
"Fine," Foix snarled back. "Ride back and lie down by the side of the road for
Jokonan dog meat, if you don't like it. The pack could feast for a month."
The servant arrived, and, at the soldier's gesture, upended a bucket of water
slowly over dy Cabon, soaking his dirty white robes. Dy Cabon did not recoil
or protest, but just sat limply, raising his chin and opening his mouth.
Foix nodded in gratitude and took a tin cup of water that another servant
proffered from a second bucket, gulped it down, then scooped up a second and
third and repeated the performance. With a fretful grimace, he ladled up
another cupful, squatted by dy Cabon's side, and held it to the divine's lips.
Dy Cabon lifted a shaking hand to it, guzzling noisily.
The soldier gave Ista a respectful salute as she approached, and murmured to
her, "Very close to the heatstroke, that one. It's a bad sign when a man that
big stops sweating. But don't worry, Royina, we'll get him right around."
Foix's head swiveled. "Royina!" he cried. "Five gods be thanked! I kiss your [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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into the light.
Arhys's sword danced in the sun, a glittering blur. His dappled gray was
crowded up in the middle of a pack of kicking, squealing horses. A Jokonan
soldier who had managed to get his lance unshipped whipped it up over his own
mount's head and jammed it awkwardly, backhanded, across the haunches of the
mount of the man who presently engaged Arhys's sword. Arhys jerked away.
Cattilara screamed as the lance wrenched back again, spattering blood.
"My lord is struck!" cried the bowman, leaning out as tensely as the women.
"Oh no. His sword arm rises. Five gods be thanked."
The horsemen disengaged, the Jokonan swordsman reeling in his saddle. The
spearman saw an opening and galloped through to pursue his retreating
comrades, bending low over his mount's neck; a crossbow bolt whizzed over his
head to encourage him on his way.
Curse it, that spear point had found a mark in Arhys's shoulder; Ista had seen
the shock of the contact shove the Jokonan's hand back, almost ripping the
shaft from his grip. Yet Arhys's sword swung unhindered . .. Her breath drew
in sharply, and she whirled away and started for the stairs.
"Liss, attend me!"
"But Royina, don't you want to see how it comes out
?"
"Attend me."
Not waiting to see if the girl followed, Ista yanked up her lilac skirts and
shuffled down the tight, dark stone curve of the tower stairs. She almost fell
in her haste, then hugged the outer wall and the wider tread, but did not
slow.
Out the door, across another courtyard, under the archway, into the stone
court. Up the stairs. Her feet thumped across the gallery. She tugged open
Illvin's carved door.
Goram was crouched by Lord Illvin's right side, groaning in fear. Illvin's
linen tunic was yanked open and half-down. The groom glanced over his shoulder
at her entry and cried, "Lady, help!"
His hands, she saw as she neared, were pressed to Illvin's shoulder, and gory
with blood. The tunic
sleeve was soaked in scarlet. Ista tore around the room until she found a
cloth that might be folded into a pad, bundled it clean side outward, and
offered it; Goram snatched his hands away just long enough to grab it and
stuff it against the jagged wound in Illvin's shoulder.
"I didn't! I didn't!" cried Goram to her, his eye rolling white-rimmed. "It
just happened."
"Yes, Goram, I know. It's all right," Ista soothed him. "You're doing well."
Almost, she was tempted to squeeze the rope of white fire shut again,
returning the ugly gash to its rightful owner. But now was clearly not a good
moment to drop Arhys senseless from his saddle. Illvin's closed gray eyelids
did not move or flutter or pinch in pain, at least. In his unfeeling state he
might be freely tended, washed with brine, jabbed with sewing needles. So,
Ista wondered dizzily, if the demon permitted him to wake this noon, would the
needle punctures still be there when the wound they held closed fled back to
his brother?
The door swung open; Liss at last.
"Liss. Run at once and find some woman used to tending wounds the Mother's
craft must have much practice here have her bring her soap and salves and
needles, and a servant to carry water as well."
"What? Why?" She trod closer in curiosity.
Page 132
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
"Lord Illvin is badly cut."
At this point, Liss saw the blood, and she gasped. "Yes, Royina. But how could
. . . ?"
"
You saw the spear thrust."
"
Oh
." Her eyes grew very wide indeed, and she turned and ran.
Goram peeked quickly under the pad and clapped it tight again. Ista hung over
his shoulder. The puncture was not so deep as she had feared; already the
sluggish flow of blood was diminishing. "Good, Goram. Keep pressing."
"Aye, lady."
Ista waited, shifting from foot to foot, until voices sounded again from the
gallery outside. Liss opened the door for a woman in an apron bearing a
basket, and ushered her in; a male servant followed.
"Lord Illvin . . ." Ista began, and glanced at Goram, "fell out of bed and
struck his shoulder." On what?
Ista's invention failed her. She passed rapidly on. "Tend to him and bind him.
Help Goram clean up.
Speak of this to no one but me, Lord Arhys, or Lady Cattilara."
Those of the rescue party from Porifors who hadn't chased after the Jokonans
might be escorting their new guests through the gates just about now, Ista
guessed. She strode for the door. "Liss, attend me."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
ISTA HURRIED UNDER THE ARCHWAY INTO THE ENTRY COURT IN time to see the flushed
and gasping Learned dy Cabon sag from his horse into the arms of one of Lord
Arhys's men. The soldier helped the divine totter a few steps to collapse in
the narrow shade of the wall by the almond tree. He held a worried hand to dy
Cabon's face and spoke to a servant, who hurried away. Dy Cabon struggled
out of his semi-concealing brown vest-cloak, letting it fall around him to the
petal-strewn pavement.
Foix, looking almost equally hot and harried, jumped from his horse, threw
down the reins, and strode to the divine's side.
"Curse it, Foix," dy Cabon wheezed, staring up at him, "I told you to stop
playing with that thing."
"Fine," Foix snarled back. "Ride back and lie down by the side of the road for
Jokonan dog meat, if you don't like it. The pack could feast for a month."
The servant arrived, and, at the soldier's gesture, upended a bucket of water
slowly over dy Cabon, soaking his dirty white robes. Dy Cabon did not recoil
or protest, but just sat limply, raising his chin and opening his mouth.
Foix nodded in gratitude and took a tin cup of water that another servant
proffered from a second bucket, gulped it down, then scooped up a second and
third and repeated the performance. With a fretful grimace, he ladled up
another cupful, squatted by dy Cabon's side, and held it to the divine's lips.
Dy Cabon lifted a shaking hand to it, guzzling noisily.
The soldier gave Ista a respectful salute as she approached, and murmured to
her, "Very close to the heatstroke, that one. It's a bad sign when a man that
big stops sweating. But don't worry, Royina, we'll get him right around."
Foix's head swiveled. "Royina!" he cried. "Five gods be thanked! I kiss your [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]