[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
drag me back there, so I thought, as I twisted a slash and feinted left, then dropped and was able to
thrust the rapier through the guts of number three.
Number four shrieked again, in fear this time, and turned to rush from the shed to the safety of his
friends. I could hear them coming running, now, shouting the alarm.
He had seen my face. It was bearded, true, and many Rapas cannot tell one apim from another; although
with experience I was growing more and more capable of differentiating between Rapa faces. He was a
guard and would also be experienced. He would be questioned.
As the fool turned to cast back a frightened glance, the terchick stood out quiveringly from his eye.
He collapsed against the door as those outside sought to thrust it open, and the slight delay gave me time
to leap for the far end, bash a plank out, force more away from the beams, and so dart out into the
darkness. Still the Twins were not up, but over the eastern horizon, She of the Veils rose, ominously
lifting pale level streaks of gold and pink.
Time was running out.
The way back to the inn an inn I had already made up my mind to leave for a more convenient billet
lay across either one of two bridges across the Black River to the sacred quarter. I chose to return
over the built-up and arcaded bridge the Ruathytuans called the Bridge of Sicce, for its massive pillars
and piers supported a pressing multitude of houses and shops, with promenades running as many as three
or four stories above the main street level. From this high perch many and many a poor devil cast himself
or herself into the dark waters in suicide to be swept away to the Ice Floes of Sicce. These galleries and
arcades and narrow roofs gave me a fine time as I fled back. My cloak flared in the wind of my passage.
She of the Veils rose clear of the jumbled horizon and shone benignly down as I scampered across the
rooftops and jumped down from the ledges, level to level, passing across the river and so plunging back
into the sacred quarter. Here I could leap from balcony to balcony, hang from ledges, crawl along a
razor-backed gable, cling to a chimney, and hurl myself across the gulf of an alley far below. I do not
think any eyes spied me as I cavorted across the tiles of sleeping Ruathytu.
What kind of devilish figure, half beast, half gargoyle, I created, hurdling the rooftops, I did not know. I
slid down the roof of my inn, plunged to the balcony of my room, and crept stealthily in by the window. I
employed a couple of harmless Hamalian servants, and they were not disturbed in the next room. As I
turned for a last look at this alien sky I saw She of the Veils floating clear. And against that luminous
golden-pink orb floated a long bank of jagged black cloud like a reflection of the city below.
Chapter Ten
Of Chido, Casmas the Deldy, and Radak the Syatra
The only result of the night s work that affected me could as well be summed up in the words of young
Chido ham Thafey. He must have been a man, said Chido. For the fellow left a knife behind him. He
isn t the devil the guards would have us believe, by Krun, he isn t!
Chido, a young man who held a courtesy rank of Amak, for when his father died Chido would become
a Vad, screwed up his chinless, watery-eyed, aimless face in a contortion expressing extreme
amazement. We were in the throes of fencing practice and Rees was attacking Nath Tolfeyr with huge
enjoyment. The high-windowed hall rang with cheerful shouts. Chido well, Chido was Chido, a young
man with much wealth, little sense, great charm, friend of Bladesmen, and with a burning desire to
become a renowned duelist.
The only result of the night, I say. Well, four dead men, be they Rapas or not, are not so lightly glossed
over by me. I have found a greater respect for human life than a casual observer of my carryings-on on
Kregen might imagine, and although the Savanti must share a great deal in those initial impulses, the
shedding of blood except in the direst of emergencies remains abhorrent to me. I think my Delia
understands. And, Kregen is a world where violence can get out of hand unless a man seeks and holds
on to a doctrine, whether from some easy and externally imposed religion, or from a much more difficult
inner compulsion, which will make him understand that a human life is a human life no matter in what form
the spirit is encased. The unpleasant religion of Len the Silver Leem thrived on violence and lust and
cheap promises of fulfillment.
Come on, Hamun, there s a good fellow, sang out Chido. Take up your wapier and let s have a
set-to.
No, no, Chido. I feel too fragile just now.
Chido always spoke like that, changing his R s to W s and affecting a high-pitched tone of voice,
goggling eyes and all. I suppose no one can live in a country and fail to find someone for whom they can
feel a spark of affection. Hamal was the bitter enemy of Vallia, and of my friends of Pandahem, and so
that made Trylon Rees and Chido my enemies, too. But I did not hate them. They were jolly company.
They amused me.
Excusing myself, I left the salle and strolled out into the city. My life had followed a strange path since I
had come here, almost as though a curtain had gone up on a new act. No very great deal of time had
elapsed since I had last been hurled back to Earth by the Star Lords, for I had been moving very fast; but
there was no sign of anyone I had encountered in my previous sojourn in Hamal. The depredations of the
wild folk from over the Mountains of the West continued. The estates of poor Amak Naghan had not
burned alone in that endless and bitter struggle on the far frontiers. And the burnings had been savagely
echoed here, nearer the capital, in the recent revolt. I had seen a city burn, I had fought in the ruins of a
local estate. Now this local violence was over, the Queen in full power, the laws of Hamal firmly on her
side. There might be bandit raids of flutsmen from time to time, but the flutsmen were a thorn in the flesh
of all the countries of Havilfar . . .
So now I strolled and watched the throngs of people, all busy about the essential everyday tasks that
keep a great city alive. In the sacred quarter within the old walls and the curved helmet-shape of the fork
of the rivers, the streets run higgledy-piggledy, often narrow and cramped, shadowed, lined with shops
and stores and arcades, with the townhouses of the great ones secluded beyond iron-spiked walls. To
the west beyond the old walls lies the new town, where the boulevards run arrow-straight, where the
Jikhorkdun stands proudly, where the new temples rise, where the Horters and the lesser gentry
sometimes mingle in the passing phases of social movements. The Walls of Kazlili encircle the city in a
wide encincture, the new Walls, pierced by stupendous gates, enclosing all the hustle and bustle of a
mighty city, proud and arrogant in its power.
The little wheeled vehicles trundled on their tracks behind their amiths, up and down the broader
avenues. I thought of my adventures with Avec and Ilter, and of the time when in just such an
amith-drawn carriage I had plunged my face into a basket of ripe shonages. Well, still on the trail of the
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]