[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
does. No one will."
"When you come of yourself as a free gift, then someone will."
"No one."
Bram and Charles were sparring cautiously in the day's first duel, neither of
them having yet decided on an all-out rush. Though they were of a height
Charles the Upright was much leaner, his back so straight that the reason for
his name was obvious. He wore a loose jacket of fine leather and had a darkly
handsome face.
Athena thought he showed incredible poise, waiting with his long,
sharp-looking sword lifted in one hand, aimed at his opponent. Surely, she
thought, this was not life-and-death after all. No matter how seriously they
took it, it must be some play, some game, with a symbolic loser stepping
aside& and yet all the time she was telling herself this she knew better.
"Come," Charles was murmuring, sounding like a man urging on some animal.
"Come. Now.
Now
."
And beardless Bram, all youth and freakish strength, came on, first one step,
then two, then in an awesome rush, his sword first raised then slashing down.
The sharp blades rang together, the two men grunted. Incoherent cries of
excitement went up around the watching circle. Charles, fending off
blow after blow, was giving way now. He seemed to lose his footing momentarily
in a slip, then lashed out with a counterstroke that brought a hoarse noise of
appreciation from the warriors who stood watching with knowledgeable eyes.
Bram avoided the blow and was unhurt but his rushing attack had been brought
to a standstill. Athena for the first time began to realize that fine skill
must reign here on the same throne with brutality.
Bram stood quietly for a moment, frowning as if at the unexpected resistance
of some inanimate object. Then suddenly he charged again, more violently if
possible than before. The long swords blurred and sang together, sprang apart,
blurred and sang again. Athena began now to see and understand the timing and
strategy of the strokes. She was forgetting herself, her eyes and mind opening
more fully for perception. Then all at once, somehow-for all her concentration
she had not seen how-Charles's sword was no longer in his hand. Instead it
sprouted between
Bram's ribs, the hilt firmly affixed before Bram's breastbone, half a meter of
blade protruding gory and grotesque from his broad back.
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Bram shook his head, one, two, three times, in what seemed utter disbelief.
Athena saw it all with great clarity and it all seemed very slow. Bram was
still waving his own sword, but now he seemed unable to locate his newly
disarmed opponent, standing in plain sight in front of him.
Suddenly, awkwardly, Bram sat, dropped his weapon and raised a hand to his
face, brushing at it as if struck by the thought that now his beard would
never grow. The hand fell limp and Bram slumped farther, his head tilting
forward on his chest. The pose looked incredibly uncomfortable, but he
bore it without complaint. Only when a gray-clad slave limped forward to drag
the body to one side did Athena fully understand that the man-the boy-had died
before her eyes.
Charles the Upright extracted his sword with a strong pull and held it out to
another slave for cleaning-while yet another spilled sand over the place where
Bram had spilled his life.
In the background someone was digging. The world had changed in the space of a
few moments, or rather Athena had been changed. Never again would she be the
same.
"Col Renba-Farley of Eikosk."
The man who started forward at the name of Col Renba was big, brown, and
shaggy. He stood near the center of the arena whirling a mace, a spike-studded
ball on the end of a short chain, and waited for Farley to come after him.
Oscar was saying something to her, but there was no time to listen or think,
no time for anything but watching. No time for Oscar, even.
Farley of Eikosk, fair and freckled, tall and well made if not exactly
handsome, came treading catlike in fine leather boots. His other garments were
simple, but of rich sturdy cloth. He squinted in the sun that shone on the
fine polished steel of his sword and knife. Holding a weapon in either hand,
he feinted an advance to within striking range of the mace, and nodded as if
with satisfaction when he saw how rapidly the spiked weight on its taut chain
arched out at him and back again.
Now Farley began to circle, moving around Col Renba first one way and then the
other. The mace came out after him, faster than before, faster than had seemed
possible to
Athena, and she cried out, unaware that she did so. Again she
cried out, in relief this time, when she saw that the spikes had missed
Farley's fine, fair skin.
Momentarily both men were still, and then again there came a rapid passage of
arms, too fast for Athena to judge.
She thought the flurry was over, when suddenly the tip of one of the mace's
spikes touched Farley on the hand, and his dagger flew lightly but awkwardly
away. In almost the same moment Farley's long sword bit back, and now Col
Renba backed away, keeping the mace twirling with his right hand, his left arm
curled up as if trying to protect itself from further damage while its sleeve
rapidly drenched red.
Each man's left arm was bleeding now, and Farley's at least appeared no longer
usable. Along the back of his hand there showed the white of splintered bone.
The bright blade of his long dagger lay buried in the dust.
When the mace-spinner saw the extent of the damage he had inflicted, and found
that his own left arm could at least be held up out of the way, he stopped
backing off and began to advance once again. He kept the ugly weight of death
moving around him in a smooth ellipse. As Col stepped closer, Farley began to
retreat, but only began. As the mace sighed past him his long speed-thrust to
the throat caught Col stepping in. Col Renba died, the mace flying wide from
his hand in a great arc, spinning over the shouting, dodging ring of watchers.
A long moment after the other watchers' outcries had died away, Athena was
still shouting. She realized this and shut up and let go of Schoenberg, whose
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
arm and shoulder had somehow come into her spasmodic two-handed grip. Oscar
was looking at her strangely, and so was De La Torre, who stood with his arm
around a bored-looking Celeste a little
distance off.
But Athena forgot about them. Already men were getting ready to fight again.
"Giles the Treacherous-Hal Coppersmith." Coppersmith was the leaner of this
pair, and much the taller. He was content to begin on the defensive, holding
his long sword like the sensing organ of some giant insect. Giles the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl freetocraft.keep.pl
does. No one will."
"When you come of yourself as a free gift, then someone will."
"No one."
Bram and Charles were sparring cautiously in the day's first duel, neither of
them having yet decided on an all-out rush. Though they were of a height
Charles the Upright was much leaner, his back so straight that the reason for
his name was obvious. He wore a loose jacket of fine leather and had a darkly
handsome face.
Athena thought he showed incredible poise, waiting with his long,
sharp-looking sword lifted in one hand, aimed at his opponent. Surely, she
thought, this was not life-and-death after all. No matter how seriously they
took it, it must be some play, some game, with a symbolic loser stepping
aside& and yet all the time she was telling herself this she knew better.
"Come," Charles was murmuring, sounding like a man urging on some animal.
"Come. Now.
Now
."
And beardless Bram, all youth and freakish strength, came on, first one step,
then two, then in an awesome rush, his sword first raised then slashing down.
The sharp blades rang together, the two men grunted. Incoherent cries of
excitement went up around the watching circle. Charles, fending off
blow after blow, was giving way now. He seemed to lose his footing momentarily
in a slip, then lashed out with a counterstroke that brought a hoarse noise of
appreciation from the warriors who stood watching with knowledgeable eyes.
Bram avoided the blow and was unhurt but his rushing attack had been brought
to a standstill. Athena for the first time began to realize that fine skill
must reign here on the same throne with brutality.
Bram stood quietly for a moment, frowning as if at the unexpected resistance
of some inanimate object. Then suddenly he charged again, more violently if
possible than before. The long swords blurred and sang together, sprang apart,
blurred and sang again. Athena began now to see and understand the timing and
strategy of the strokes. She was forgetting herself, her eyes and mind opening
more fully for perception. Then all at once, somehow-for all her concentration
she had not seen how-Charles's sword was no longer in his hand. Instead it
sprouted between
Bram's ribs, the hilt firmly affixed before Bram's breastbone, half a meter of
blade protruding gory and grotesque from his broad back.
Page 36
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Bram shook his head, one, two, three times, in what seemed utter disbelief.
Athena saw it all with great clarity and it all seemed very slow. Bram was
still waving his own sword, but now he seemed unable to locate his newly
disarmed opponent, standing in plain sight in front of him.
Suddenly, awkwardly, Bram sat, dropped his weapon and raised a hand to his
face, brushing at it as if struck by the thought that now his beard would
never grow. The hand fell limp and Bram slumped farther, his head tilting
forward on his chest. The pose looked incredibly uncomfortable, but he
bore it without complaint. Only when a gray-clad slave limped forward to drag
the body to one side did Athena fully understand that the man-the boy-had died
before her eyes.
Charles the Upright extracted his sword with a strong pull and held it out to
another slave for cleaning-while yet another spilled sand over the place where
Bram had spilled his life.
In the background someone was digging. The world had changed in the space of a
few moments, or rather Athena had been changed. Never again would she be the
same.
"Col Renba-Farley of Eikosk."
The man who started forward at the name of Col Renba was big, brown, and
shaggy. He stood near the center of the arena whirling a mace, a spike-studded
ball on the end of a short chain, and waited for Farley to come after him.
Oscar was saying something to her, but there was no time to listen or think,
no time for anything but watching. No time for Oscar, even.
Farley of Eikosk, fair and freckled, tall and well made if not exactly
handsome, came treading catlike in fine leather boots. His other garments were
simple, but of rich sturdy cloth. He squinted in the sun that shone on the
fine polished steel of his sword and knife. Holding a weapon in either hand,
he feinted an advance to within striking range of the mace, and nodded as if
with satisfaction when he saw how rapidly the spiked weight on its taut chain
arched out at him and back again.
Now Farley began to circle, moving around Col Renba first one way and then the
other. The mace came out after him, faster than before, faster than had seemed
possible to
Athena, and she cried out, unaware that she did so. Again she
cried out, in relief this time, when she saw that the spikes had missed
Farley's fine, fair skin.
Momentarily both men were still, and then again there came a rapid passage of
arms, too fast for Athena to judge.
She thought the flurry was over, when suddenly the tip of one of the mace's
spikes touched Farley on the hand, and his dagger flew lightly but awkwardly
away. In almost the same moment Farley's long sword bit back, and now Col
Renba backed away, keeping the mace twirling with his right hand, his left arm
curled up as if trying to protect itself from further damage while its sleeve
rapidly drenched red.
Each man's left arm was bleeding now, and Farley's at least appeared no longer
usable. Along the back of his hand there showed the white of splintered bone.
The bright blade of his long dagger lay buried in the dust.
When the mace-spinner saw the extent of the damage he had inflicted, and found
that his own left arm could at least be held up out of the way, he stopped
backing off and began to advance once again. He kept the ugly weight of death
moving around him in a smooth ellipse. As Col stepped closer, Farley began to
retreat, but only began. As the mace sighed past him his long speed-thrust to
the throat caught Col stepping in. Col Renba died, the mace flying wide from
his hand in a great arc, spinning over the shouting, dodging ring of watchers.
A long moment after the other watchers' outcries had died away, Athena was
still shouting. She realized this and shut up and let go of Schoenberg, whose
Page 37
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
arm and shoulder had somehow come into her spasmodic two-handed grip. Oscar
was looking at her strangely, and so was De La Torre, who stood with his arm
around a bored-looking Celeste a little
distance off.
But Athena forgot about them. Already men were getting ready to fight again.
"Giles the Treacherous-Hal Coppersmith." Coppersmith was the leaner of this
pair, and much the taller. He was content to begin on the defensive, holding
his long sword like the sensing organ of some giant insect. Giles the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]