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.The characters glared red against theband's polished surface.Consumed by curiosity, the boy edged nearer.Careful not to disturb her concentration, he leaned close and examined theornament which controlled Tathagres' spells.Wrought as a seamless ring, themetal was as thick as his forefinger, and deadly plain when not in use.But nowwhile Tathagres engaged her powers to tap the depths of Anskiere's sorcery,runes blazed, etched in light across the surface of the gold.Emien could not read.But he had seen trader's lists often enough to recognize a scribe's hand; thewriting on the band described no human letters.With a sharp chill of foreboding,Emien drew back.Once on Imrill Kand, a severe storm had washed a bit of wreckage ashore besidethe rotted pilings of the fisher's wharf.Emien had been there when the child whofound it burned his fingers to the bone trying to pick it up.The object had bornemarkings similar to those on Tathagres' gold collar.Anskiere had destroyed theartifact the instant he saw it, claiming it bore runes of power no human shouldknow.No villager on Imrill Kand questioned the sorcerer's wisdom; plainly theobject was crafted by demons.And though Emien had repudiated all belief inAnskiere's doings, the possibility Tathagres' magic might be founded by theworks of Kordane's Accursed had never before entered his mind.Troubled, he seated himself on a shelf of rock, balanced the sword blade acrosshis knees and regarded his mistress.Her angry violet eyes were closed.Moonlightrendered her form in silver, lovely as the icon Emien recalled from the shrine byKordane's Bridge.From the smooth skin of cheek and brow to the finely sculptedwrists resting in her lap, her pose seemed the image of peace and perfection.Wrung breathless by an unexpected rush of desire, Emien clamped his fist on thepommel of his weapon.Surely Anskiere was wrong.Not all demons were evil.Perilous, surely; in ignorance, the child of Imrill Kand had touched theirformidable powers and been harmed.But Tathagres controlled similar forces aseffortlessly as breathing.Emien perched his chin on his knuckles, teeth clenched against the cold.Anyenemy of Anskiere's was an ally to his cause, a hand to lend impetus towardaaTTnnssFFffooDDrrPPmmYYeeYYrrBB22.BBAAClick here to buyClick here to buywwmmwwoowwcc.AAYYBBYYBB r rvengeance for Taen's death.Why should he be troubled to know the source ofTathagres' powers? But the bleak mood which accompanied his discoverypersisted.Emien stared morosely over the sea but saw no horizon.Images of theguardsman's fatal embrace returned and haunted him.Wind pried at hisclothing, sharp with the coming frosts of autumn, and the breath of the icepierced the very marrow of his bones.Poisoned by the knowledge of his ownmortality, Emien dreamed hungrily of power.His thoughts dwelt deeply and longupon Tathagres' gold necklace as the moon wheeled across the sky to its setting.If somehow he came to possess such an object, he could be secure from themeddling of men and sorcerers forever after.Fog moved in at sunrise.It beaded Emien's cloak and lashes and sword hilt withdroplets, and coiled like wraiths over the ice cliffs; surf boomed and echoedinvisibly off the rocks, eerily amplified.As the first gulls took flight overCliffhaven, Tathagres stirred from her trance.In the half-lit gloom while nightyielded to daylight, Emien saw her eyelids tremble and open.She stretched,showing no trace of stiffness, a secretive, self-satisfied expression on her face.Chilled and disgruntled, the boy waited for her to speak.Finally, after sevenweary weeks and an unpleasant night-long vigil, he would learn what befell theStormwarden whose meddling had stolen Taen's loyalty and whose tempest hadtaken her life.Bitter as spoiled wine, Emien thumbed the bare edge of the bladeon his knees.When Tathagres at last met his gaze, he barely curbed an outrightdemand for the result of her search of the ice cliffs.His tension appeared to amuse her, which annoyed Emien further.With hisknuckles whitened against the chased steel of the crossguard, he glared in furioussilence.Like a coquettish high court lady, Tathagres tossed her fine white hairand laughed.Emien sprang halfway to his feet in a moment of wild anger.Then he realized hercaprice was caused not by him, but by Anskiere.Unable to restrain his own fiercesmile, he settled back."Anskiere is a fool," Tathagres said softly.Above her shoulders the mist swirledlike smoke over the blocky spine of the ridge, and for a second weak sunlightstruck through, striking gold highlights against the ice.Paler than usual andobviously cold, Tathagres rearranged her cloak over her shoulders."When thefrostwargs wakened, the Stormwarden sealed them behind a wall of ice.But hecould not free himself.The ice imprisoned him as well."Emien raised the sword, saluting her triumph."Then the Stormwarden is dead."Tathagres tilted her head, gazed in speculation through the thinning veils of mist.Her reply held dreamlike tranquillity."He's alive but in stasis, a trance so deep helies a hair's-breadth from death.He cannot last indefinitely in such a state.Hebelieves he will be saved."Emien lowered the sword, black brows gathered into a frown.He began avehement protest, but Tathagres stopped him sharply, violet eyes widened withmurderous intent.Her expression froze the breath in Emien's chest and heclenched his teeth to keep from quivering like a terrified child."The Stormwarden has unleashed his curse upon Ivain Fire-lord." Tathagresshaped her words with harsh, incredulous fury."He trusts a geas and a striplingaaTTnnssFFffooDDrrPPmmYYeeYYrrBB22.BBAAClick here to buyClick here to buywwmmwwoowwcc.AAYYBBYYBB r rboy to spare him from the frostwargs' ferocity." She laughed again, but her mirthsounded forced, as if some inner plan had been thwarted.Cued by a leap of intuition, Emien said quickly, "You can't touch him." Thethought sparkled resentment."I can't touch him, true." Tathagres leaned forward, dangerously rapt."I don'tneed to reach him.His fate is sealed already, with no help from me.Look, I'llshow you."She reached out and caught the sword.Emien relinquished the weapon,reluctant, yet also determined to share her discovery.He crouched, braced on onefist, while Tathagres turned the blade point downward and scratched a triangleinto the ice between her knees.She rested the tip of the sword on the apex, then touched the worn pommel to thegold band above her collar."Ivain's heir is a half-wit weakling." Her lip curled in scorn."See for yourself."The lines scored in the ice blazed with sudden violent light, followed by scorchingheat as the sorcery took hold.Ragged drifts of steam rose and mingled with themist.Emien braced his body, mistrustful of the sorcery, yet unable to tear himselfaway.Before his eyes the ice melted and an image from a place far distantreformed on its surface.Inside a neat, single-room cabin, a boy sat propped in awicker chair.His body was half buried under woolen blankets, though sunlightspilled warmly through the open window beside him.Framed by a straggle ofmouse-colored hair, his features were blanched by ill health and the fingersresting across his knees were fragile as spring twigs.He appeared asleep.Oncloser examination, Emien noticed the boy's eyes were open but vacant, asthough bereft of intelligence.Yet even as Emien watched, the brown eyes lifted.For the space of an instant, the boy in the cabin seemed to focus directly uponhim.Touched by foreboding, Emien flinched and flung back."Kordane's Fires, who ishe?"Tathagres withdrew the blade with a coarse scrape.The image spattered intosparks [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.The characters glared red against theband's polished surface.Consumed by curiosity, the boy edged nearer.Careful not to disturb her concentration, he leaned close and examined theornament which controlled Tathagres' spells.Wrought as a seamless ring, themetal was as thick as his forefinger, and deadly plain when not in use.But nowwhile Tathagres engaged her powers to tap the depths of Anskiere's sorcery,runes blazed, etched in light across the surface of the gold.Emien could not read.But he had seen trader's lists often enough to recognize a scribe's hand; thewriting on the band described no human letters.With a sharp chill of foreboding,Emien drew back.Once on Imrill Kand, a severe storm had washed a bit of wreckage ashore besidethe rotted pilings of the fisher's wharf.Emien had been there when the child whofound it burned his fingers to the bone trying to pick it up.The object had bornemarkings similar to those on Tathagres' gold collar.Anskiere had destroyed theartifact the instant he saw it, claiming it bore runes of power no human shouldknow.No villager on Imrill Kand questioned the sorcerer's wisdom; plainly theobject was crafted by demons.And though Emien had repudiated all belief inAnskiere's doings, the possibility Tathagres' magic might be founded by theworks of Kordane's Accursed had never before entered his mind.Troubled, he seated himself on a shelf of rock, balanced the sword blade acrosshis knees and regarded his mistress.Her angry violet eyes were closed.Moonlightrendered her form in silver, lovely as the icon Emien recalled from the shrine byKordane's Bridge.From the smooth skin of cheek and brow to the finely sculptedwrists resting in her lap, her pose seemed the image of peace and perfection.Wrung breathless by an unexpected rush of desire, Emien clamped his fist on thepommel of his weapon.Surely Anskiere was wrong.Not all demons were evil.Perilous, surely; in ignorance, the child of Imrill Kand had touched theirformidable powers and been harmed.But Tathagres controlled similar forces aseffortlessly as breathing.Emien perched his chin on his knuckles, teeth clenched against the cold.Anyenemy of Anskiere's was an ally to his cause, a hand to lend impetus towardaaTTnnssFFffooDDrrPPmmYYeeYYrrBB22.BBAAClick here to buyClick here to buywwmmwwoowwcc.AAYYBBYYBB r rvengeance for Taen's death.Why should he be troubled to know the source ofTathagres' powers? But the bleak mood which accompanied his discoverypersisted.Emien stared morosely over the sea but saw no horizon.Images of theguardsman's fatal embrace returned and haunted him.Wind pried at hisclothing, sharp with the coming frosts of autumn, and the breath of the icepierced the very marrow of his bones.Poisoned by the knowledge of his ownmortality, Emien dreamed hungrily of power.His thoughts dwelt deeply and longupon Tathagres' gold necklace as the moon wheeled across the sky to its setting.If somehow he came to possess such an object, he could be secure from themeddling of men and sorcerers forever after.Fog moved in at sunrise.It beaded Emien's cloak and lashes and sword hilt withdroplets, and coiled like wraiths over the ice cliffs; surf boomed and echoedinvisibly off the rocks, eerily amplified.As the first gulls took flight overCliffhaven, Tathagres stirred from her trance.In the half-lit gloom while nightyielded to daylight, Emien saw her eyelids tremble and open.She stretched,showing no trace of stiffness, a secretive, self-satisfied expression on her face.Chilled and disgruntled, the boy waited for her to speak.Finally, after sevenweary weeks and an unpleasant night-long vigil, he would learn what befell theStormwarden whose meddling had stolen Taen's loyalty and whose tempest hadtaken her life.Bitter as spoiled wine, Emien thumbed the bare edge of the bladeon his knees.When Tathagres at last met his gaze, he barely curbed an outrightdemand for the result of her search of the ice cliffs.His tension appeared to amuse her, which annoyed Emien further.With hisknuckles whitened against the chased steel of the crossguard, he glared in furioussilence.Like a coquettish high court lady, Tathagres tossed her fine white hairand laughed.Emien sprang halfway to his feet in a moment of wild anger.Then he realized hercaprice was caused not by him, but by Anskiere.Unable to restrain his own fiercesmile, he settled back."Anskiere is a fool," Tathagres said softly.Above her shoulders the mist swirledlike smoke over the blocky spine of the ridge, and for a second weak sunlightstruck through, striking gold highlights against the ice.Paler than usual andobviously cold, Tathagres rearranged her cloak over her shoulders."When thefrostwargs wakened, the Stormwarden sealed them behind a wall of ice.But hecould not free himself.The ice imprisoned him as well."Emien raised the sword, saluting her triumph."Then the Stormwarden is dead."Tathagres tilted her head, gazed in speculation through the thinning veils of mist.Her reply held dreamlike tranquillity."He's alive but in stasis, a trance so deep helies a hair's-breadth from death.He cannot last indefinitely in such a state.Hebelieves he will be saved."Emien lowered the sword, black brows gathered into a frown.He began avehement protest, but Tathagres stopped him sharply, violet eyes widened withmurderous intent.Her expression froze the breath in Emien's chest and heclenched his teeth to keep from quivering like a terrified child."The Stormwarden has unleashed his curse upon Ivain Fire-lord." Tathagresshaped her words with harsh, incredulous fury."He trusts a geas and a striplingaaTTnnssFFffooDDrrPPmmYYeeYYrrBB22.BBAAClick here to buyClick here to buywwmmwwoowwcc.AAYYBBYYBB r rboy to spare him from the frostwargs' ferocity." She laughed again, but her mirthsounded forced, as if some inner plan had been thwarted.Cued by a leap of intuition, Emien said quickly, "You can't touch him." Thethought sparkled resentment."I can't touch him, true." Tathagres leaned forward, dangerously rapt."I don'tneed to reach him.His fate is sealed already, with no help from me.Look, I'llshow you."She reached out and caught the sword.Emien relinquished the weapon,reluctant, yet also determined to share her discovery.He crouched, braced on onefist, while Tathagres turned the blade point downward and scratched a triangleinto the ice between her knees.She rested the tip of the sword on the apex, then touched the worn pommel to thegold band above her collar."Ivain's heir is a half-wit weakling." Her lip curled in scorn."See for yourself."The lines scored in the ice blazed with sudden violent light, followed by scorchingheat as the sorcery took hold.Ragged drifts of steam rose and mingled with themist.Emien braced his body, mistrustful of the sorcery, yet unable to tear himselfaway.Before his eyes the ice melted and an image from a place far distantreformed on its surface.Inside a neat, single-room cabin, a boy sat propped in awicker chair.His body was half buried under woolen blankets, though sunlightspilled warmly through the open window beside him.Framed by a straggle ofmouse-colored hair, his features were blanched by ill health and the fingersresting across his knees were fragile as spring twigs.He appeared asleep.Oncloser examination, Emien noticed the boy's eyes were open but vacant, asthough bereft of intelligence.Yet even as Emien watched, the brown eyes lifted.For the space of an instant, the boy in the cabin seemed to focus directly uponhim.Touched by foreboding, Emien flinched and flung back."Kordane's Fires, who ishe?"Tathagres withdrew the blade with a coarse scrape.The image spattered intosparks [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]