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training from the
Vaere.
"Don't speak," said Marl's widow.
Taen turned eyes that were too old for the years she actually carried.
Restless on her pillows, she framed a tortured question. "How long?"
Marl's widow found herself crying again, not in relief, but for the mysteries
which burdened her daughter she would never again understand. "Your spirit has
ridden the winds through a day and another night."
Taen grew very still. Her blue eyes acquired depths that wounded, before she
closed them.
Too late, too late for Jaric.
Thienz had taken him as she slept, and the Keys to Elrinfaer with him. Even as
the
Dreamweaver's mind encompassed the knowledge, she sensed the demon boats which
dragged
Callinde in tow. Defeat had sharpened her dream-sense to knife-like clarity,
and an image formed, of
Jaric battered helpless by the vindictive triumph of the Thienz. His body lay
wrapped in sailcloth, trussed in spare cordage purloined from
Callinde's lockers. But far worse, his mind was left aware. The fate he would
embrace at Shadowfane was known to him, and the horror of his knowing was
reflected inward over and over by the mirrorlike spell of his prison. The
demons could not kill him, by Scait's express command; but in bloodless malice
they tortured the mind of their victim past bearing.
Taen could not penetrate Thienz' defenses with her dream-
sense; that she saw at all was a cruelty arranged by the one Shadowfane named
Maelgrim. Powerless to intervene, ravaged by the failure of her talents as
never, ever before, the enchantress knew Ivainson Jaric well enough to guess
the depths of suffering he could not express. Behind the glassy blankness of
his eyes, his heart was screaming.
"When the net grows too heavy, the wise fisherman seeks help," said Marl's
widow from the shadows by the cot in Evertt's cottage.
Taen swallowed, willing the images to leave her. She opened eyes flooded now
with tears and forced her hands to unclench. "Who is left to help?" She stared
at the roofbeams, hating the whipped sound of her words even as she spoke
them.
Marl's widow leaned forward and rested work-weary arms upon the shelf of her
knees. "The sea itself, if the powers beneath so choose." Then she abandoned
the solace of proverbs with a sigh of exasperation.
"Daughter, must you always seek to bend the wind?"
The words were very near the ones a Dreamweaver had offered Jaric in the
burrow of the Llondelei.
Page 133
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Now that time felt far distant, a child's dream of happiness. Taen kicked the
memory to quiescence, before sorrow could choke her heart. The Keys might be
taken, but the Mharg had yet to fly; leagues of ocean remained to be crossed
before Jaric reached the dungeons of Shadowfane.
"So like your father you are," Marl's widow began, and stopped, for a glance
toward the pillows made her breath catch. Taen's tears had stopped. Her face
was no longer that of a girl, or even a woman, but that of an enchantress
trained by the Vaere. Power rang from her, even as sound reverberating from
steel under the hammer falls of a smith's shaping. Yet even now the familiar
was not entirely lost; the Sathid-born force of the enchantress held that
fierce, indomitable hope with which Marl had tempered the hardship of his days
upon Imrill Kand.
"The sea will help, if the powers beneath so choose," Taen repeated. She
turned a shining look to her mother.
"Callinde's provisions were low, her casks nearly empty.
If the demons bear the Firelord's hair to
Shadowfane, they must make landfall, somewhere, for water."
Her mother made the sign against evil, for the mention of perils beyond her
understanding. She turned diffident eyes to her daughter, who was no longer of
Imrill Kand, but inextricably bound to the turning of the world beyond.
Only Taen did not see her mother's uncertainty. Her Dreamweaver's mind was
already far removed by the powers that marked her craft.
Taen's awareaess sped outward from Imrill Kand, straight as an arrow's flight.
She wasted no time with openings, but roused the captain of the Kielmark's
brigantine
Shearfish with an urgency that shot him bolt upright in his berth. He narrowly
missed slamming his head into the deck beams overtop, but purpose overrode his
annoyance.
'Weaver of Dreams, I have patrolled the northeast reaches in the area you
named,'
he thought in answer to her query.
'My men saw no mists. If there were demons, they are gone.'
But the negative report was a thing Taen had expected, since learning that
Maelgrim's talents directed the powers of the Thienz. He would surely be
sailing where her dream-sense had seen the fogs of cloaking illusion, and
through mind-trance with the second fleet of Thienz to the south, his powers
had augmented the trap that had sprung on Jaric. The eyes of men would see no
trace to mark the boats which sailed from
Shadowfane; but a Dreamweaver might. Taen bent her focus to Cliffhaven. If
Shearfish bore her south, and the Kielmark mustered his men at arms, the
chance existed that she might track the demon fleets. Though the sea was too
wide, too open, to launch an attack upon enemies men could not see, on land,
with the aid of her dream-sight, an army might manage an ambush when dwindling
provisions drove the Thienz ashore. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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training from the
Vaere.
"Don't speak," said Marl's widow.
Taen turned eyes that were too old for the years she actually carried.
Restless on her pillows, she framed a tortured question. "How long?"
Marl's widow found herself crying again, not in relief, but for the mysteries
which burdened her daughter she would never again understand. "Your spirit has
ridden the winds through a day and another night."
Taen grew very still. Her blue eyes acquired depths that wounded, before she
closed them.
Too late, too late for Jaric.
Thienz had taken him as she slept, and the Keys to Elrinfaer with him. Even as
the
Dreamweaver's mind encompassed the knowledge, she sensed the demon boats which
dragged
Callinde in tow. Defeat had sharpened her dream-sense to knife-like clarity,
and an image formed, of
Jaric battered helpless by the vindictive triumph of the Thienz. His body lay
wrapped in sailcloth, trussed in spare cordage purloined from
Callinde's lockers. But far worse, his mind was left aware. The fate he would
embrace at Shadowfane was known to him, and the horror of his knowing was
reflected inward over and over by the mirrorlike spell of his prison. The
demons could not kill him, by Scait's express command; but in bloodless malice
they tortured the mind of their victim past bearing.
Taen could not penetrate Thienz' defenses with her dream-
sense; that she saw at all was a cruelty arranged by the one Shadowfane named
Maelgrim. Powerless to intervene, ravaged by the failure of her talents as
never, ever before, the enchantress knew Ivainson Jaric well enough to guess
the depths of suffering he could not express. Behind the glassy blankness of
his eyes, his heart was screaming.
"When the net grows too heavy, the wise fisherman seeks help," said Marl's
widow from the shadows by the cot in Evertt's cottage.
Taen swallowed, willing the images to leave her. She opened eyes flooded now
with tears and forced her hands to unclench. "Who is left to help?" She stared
at the roofbeams, hating the whipped sound of her words even as she spoke
them.
Marl's widow leaned forward and rested work-weary arms upon the shelf of her
knees. "The sea itself, if the powers beneath so choose." Then she abandoned
the solace of proverbs with a sigh of exasperation.
"Daughter, must you always seek to bend the wind?"
The words were very near the ones a Dreamweaver had offered Jaric in the
burrow of the Llondelei.
Page 133
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Now that time felt far distant, a child's dream of happiness. Taen kicked the
memory to quiescence, before sorrow could choke her heart. The Keys might be
taken, but the Mharg had yet to fly; leagues of ocean remained to be crossed
before Jaric reached the dungeons of Shadowfane.
"So like your father you are," Marl's widow began, and stopped, for a glance
toward the pillows made her breath catch. Taen's tears had stopped. Her face
was no longer that of a girl, or even a woman, but that of an enchantress
trained by the Vaere. Power rang from her, even as sound reverberating from
steel under the hammer falls of a smith's shaping. Yet even now the familiar
was not entirely lost; the Sathid-born force of the enchantress held that
fierce, indomitable hope with which Marl had tempered the hardship of his days
upon Imrill Kand.
"The sea will help, if the powers beneath so choose," Taen repeated. She
turned a shining look to her mother.
"Callinde's provisions were low, her casks nearly empty.
If the demons bear the Firelord's hair to
Shadowfane, they must make landfall, somewhere, for water."
Her mother made the sign against evil, for the mention of perils beyond her
understanding. She turned diffident eyes to her daughter, who was no longer of
Imrill Kand, but inextricably bound to the turning of the world beyond.
Only Taen did not see her mother's uncertainty. Her Dreamweaver's mind was
already far removed by the powers that marked her craft.
Taen's awareaess sped outward from Imrill Kand, straight as an arrow's flight.
She wasted no time with openings, but roused the captain of the Kielmark's
brigantine
Shearfish with an urgency that shot him bolt upright in his berth. He narrowly
missed slamming his head into the deck beams overtop, but purpose overrode his
annoyance.
'Weaver of Dreams, I have patrolled the northeast reaches in the area you
named,'
he thought in answer to her query.
'My men saw no mists. If there were demons, they are gone.'
But the negative report was a thing Taen had expected, since learning that
Maelgrim's talents directed the powers of the Thienz. He would surely be
sailing where her dream-sense had seen the fogs of cloaking illusion, and
through mind-trance with the second fleet of Thienz to the south, his powers
had augmented the trap that had sprung on Jaric. The eyes of men would see no
trace to mark the boats which sailed from
Shadowfane; but a Dreamweaver might. Taen bent her focus to Cliffhaven. If
Shearfish bore her south, and the Kielmark mustered his men at arms, the
chance existed that she might track the demon fleets. Though the sea was too
wide, too open, to launch an attack upon enemies men could not see, on land,
with the aid of her dream-sight, an army might manage an ambush when dwindling
provisions drove the Thienz ashore. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]