[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Keldric's niece braved the icy, ripping gusts to make her way to the docks, a
cloak of green wool bundled in her arms.
"For you," she shouted, her voice barely audible above the shrill keening of
the wind through the stays.
Her comely fea-tures were scrubbed and hopeful and her braids were tied with
red ribbons.
Jaric scrambled out of the depths of a storage locker, his hair whipped like
spun gold against his neck.
He accepted the gift with genuine appreciation, but his thanks were stilted
with wariness.
"Try it on then, Jaric." Puzzled by his reluctance, the girl placed a freckled
hand on his arm.
Jaric flinched from the contact, startled. His dark eyes wid-ened with an
emotion the girl could not understand. She stam-mered an apology and
retreated, bursting into a run past
Callinde's slip. The boy stared after her, frozen in his tracks. He wanted to
shout, to call her back and apologize. But words stuck in his throat. He
watched until the girl disappeared while the wind screamed around his head,
lashing the wool against his thighs.
"Old storm'll catch you in the harbor," warned Mathieson, shuffling up beside
him. "Better to wait her out."
Jaric shook his head. He tossed the cloak into the locker and latched it
Page 148
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
closed, then untied
Callinde's docklines. Canvas cracked like a maddened animal as he raised the
main halyard. Clouds roiled above the masthead and angry gusts puckered the
water, sending wavelets curling off the steering oar. Old
Mathieson spat and bit his knuckle. Only a madman, or the most brave, would
put to sea in such weather.
Frail against lowering skies, the boat drew away from the dock. Jaric hauled
in the sheets, felt the lines slam against the blocks as wind filled the main.
Callinde heaved, timber shiv-ering as she gained way.
Foam ruffled off her bow. Standing forlorn on the docks, old Mathieson Keldric
saw her heel like a lady and run for the open sea.
"Callindekeep ye safe," he murmured. The gale parted the fur of the ice otter
cloak which clothed his stooped shoulders; but pelts which would have pleased
a prince meant less than nothing to him. With tear-brimmed eyes he watched the
boat which had once been his father's grow small and finally vanish, another
man's hand on her helm.
Stormfalcon
Mathieson Keldric was not the only observer to watch
Callinde depart from Mearren Ard. On the Isle of the Vaere, Taen bent over the
crystal basin, her vision centered with feverish inten-sity upon the dusky
tanbark sail of the boat which tacked across the harbor. Past the headland,
waves battered like rampaging cavalry against
Callinde
's sides, sheeting spray from prow to keel. Jaric adjusted his course for the
open sea and Cliffhaven. The steering oar dragged against his arms and the
boat bucked and rolled, her wake a boil of froth. Yet Jaric held true to his
heading, though
Callinde seemed little more than a splinter tossed haplessly in the path of
the elements.
The point fell swiftly astern. Taen's crystal bowl showed a froth of tumbling
whitecaps, Callinde a murky shadow blurred by smoking sheets of spindrift.
Reminded of the shipwreck and disaster which had traumatized her early
childhood on Imrill Kand, Taen chased the contact from her mind.
The water obediently went blank. Although the basin's chased rim gleamed
silver and ordinary beneath her sweating palms, Taen's conscience continued to
haunt her.
Had she not inter-fered, Jaric would be in Seitforest still, safely tending
traps with Telemark.
Taen raised the bowl with trembling hands. Her
nerves refused to settle. Water dribbled like tears over her fingers as she
placed the vessel on the grass by her side.
She had been a coward, she realized. The ordeal of Sathid mastery had carved a
mark of horror deep within her mind; left the ugly certainty that Emien would
betray those closest to his heart rather than confront the error of his ways.
Taen ran her fingers through her long silky hair. She had used Tamlin's plans
for Jaric as an excuse, permitted herself to believe the Firelord's heir could
restore Emien through release of An-skiere from the ice cliffs. That way she
need never confront her brother's twisted nature, might avoid entirely the
truth the Sathid had revealed.
Taen stared at her hands. The fingers were longer, shapelier and more graceful
than those of the little girl who had first landed on the Isle of the Vaere.
She had grown up, but child-ishly permitted herself to shelter her fears
behind the risks of others, even justified Jaric's discomfort for the sake of
Emien's need.
Now Jaric battled for his life against the force of An-skiere's sorceries. The
dream-weaver who had influenced his fate felt shamed.
Page 149
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Taen dropped her hands into her lap. The calm of Vaerish enchantment left her
restless. Its changeless security made Jaric's peril more vivid by contrast.
Chastened by his stubborn display of courage, Taen saw she could never leave
her brother's future reliant on the efforts of others. The possibility the
Firelord's heir might fail had forced brutal recognition; she must try to
recover her brother herself, even should she forfeit his love in the attempt.
Taen settled herself in the grass and glanced carefully around the grove. The
clearing was deserted;
Tamlin had not reap-peared since his explanation of the stormfalcon's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl karpacz24.htw.pl
Keldric's niece braved the icy, ripping gusts to make her way to the docks, a
cloak of green wool bundled in her arms.
"For you," she shouted, her voice barely audible above the shrill keening of
the wind through the stays.
Her comely fea-tures were scrubbed and hopeful and her braids were tied with
red ribbons.
Jaric scrambled out of the depths of a storage locker, his hair whipped like
spun gold against his neck.
He accepted the gift with genuine appreciation, but his thanks were stilted
with wariness.
"Try it on then, Jaric." Puzzled by his reluctance, the girl placed a freckled
hand on his arm.
Jaric flinched from the contact, startled. His dark eyes wid-ened with an
emotion the girl could not understand. She stam-mered an apology and
retreated, bursting into a run past
Callinde's slip. The boy stared after her, frozen in his tracks. He wanted to
shout, to call her back and apologize. But words stuck in his throat. He
watched until the girl disappeared while the wind screamed around his head,
lashing the wool against his thighs.
"Old storm'll catch you in the harbor," warned Mathieson, shuffling up beside
him. "Better to wait her out."
Jaric shook his head. He tossed the cloak into the locker and latched it
Page 148
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
closed, then untied
Callinde's docklines. Canvas cracked like a maddened animal as he raised the
main halyard. Clouds roiled above the masthead and angry gusts puckered the
water, sending wavelets curling off the steering oar. Old
Mathieson spat and bit his knuckle. Only a madman, or the most brave, would
put to sea in such weather.
Frail against lowering skies, the boat drew away from the dock. Jaric hauled
in the sheets, felt the lines slam against the blocks as wind filled the main.
Callinde heaved, timber shiv-ering as she gained way.
Foam ruffled off her bow. Standing forlorn on the docks, old Mathieson Keldric
saw her heel like a lady and run for the open sea.
"Callindekeep ye safe," he murmured. The gale parted the fur of the ice otter
cloak which clothed his stooped shoulders; but pelts which would have pleased
a prince meant less than nothing to him. With tear-brimmed eyes he watched the
boat which had once been his father's grow small and finally vanish, another
man's hand on her helm.
Stormfalcon
Mathieson Keldric was not the only observer to watch
Callinde depart from Mearren Ard. On the Isle of the Vaere, Taen bent over the
crystal basin, her vision centered with feverish inten-sity upon the dusky
tanbark sail of the boat which tacked across the harbor. Past the headland,
waves battered like rampaging cavalry against
Callinde
's sides, sheeting spray from prow to keel. Jaric adjusted his course for the
open sea and Cliffhaven. The steering oar dragged against his arms and the
boat bucked and rolled, her wake a boil of froth. Yet Jaric held true to his
heading, though
Callinde seemed little more than a splinter tossed haplessly in the path of
the elements.
The point fell swiftly astern. Taen's crystal bowl showed a froth of tumbling
whitecaps, Callinde a murky shadow blurred by smoking sheets of spindrift.
Reminded of the shipwreck and disaster which had traumatized her early
childhood on Imrill Kand, Taen chased the contact from her mind.
The water obediently went blank. Although the basin's chased rim gleamed
silver and ordinary beneath her sweating palms, Taen's conscience continued to
haunt her.
Had she not inter-fered, Jaric would be in Seitforest still, safely tending
traps with Telemark.
Taen raised the bowl with trembling hands. Her
nerves refused to settle. Water dribbled like tears over her fingers as she
placed the vessel on the grass by her side.
She had been a coward, she realized. The ordeal of Sathid mastery had carved a
mark of horror deep within her mind; left the ugly certainty that Emien would
betray those closest to his heart rather than confront the error of his ways.
Taen ran her fingers through her long silky hair. She had used Tamlin's plans
for Jaric as an excuse, permitted herself to believe the Firelord's heir could
restore Emien through release of An-skiere from the ice cliffs. That way she
need never confront her brother's twisted nature, might avoid entirely the
truth the Sathid had revealed.
Taen stared at her hands. The fingers were longer, shapelier and more graceful
than those of the little girl who had first landed on the Isle of the Vaere.
She had grown up, but child-ishly permitted herself to shelter her fears
behind the risks of others, even justified Jaric's discomfort for the sake of
Emien's need.
Now Jaric battled for his life against the force of An-skiere's sorceries. The
dream-weaver who had influenced his fate felt shamed.
Page 149
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Taen dropped her hands into her lap. The calm of Vaerish enchantment left her
restless. Its changeless security made Jaric's peril more vivid by contrast.
Chastened by his stubborn display of courage, Taen saw she could never leave
her brother's future reliant on the efforts of others. The possibility the
Firelord's heir might fail had forced brutal recognition; she must try to
recover her brother herself, even should she forfeit his love in the attempt.
Taen settled herself in the grass and glanced carefully around the grove. The
clearing was deserted;
Tamlin had not reap-peared since his explanation of the stormfalcon's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]