[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
from time to time. They passed half a dozen wagons, all dark, then approached
one in which a light glowed. Morpho tapped
Blade on the shoulder.
"That one. And, Blade, I would have an oath from you."
Blade, frozen and gasping, encompassed by an icy hell, thought it a poor time
indeed for oaths. He growled like a wounded bear.
"What oath, man? This is no time for such matters! We will freeze to death
while you yammer about oaths. I "
Morpho was insistent. The carven grin, colder than the Khad's heart, pressed
against Blade's ear.
"A simple oath, Blade! I must have it that you will not speak of what you see
in the wagon!"
Blade nodded. Anything to get on with it. "All right, Morpho. I give my word.
Now do we go or does the wind murder us?"
"Let me down."
Morpho slipped from Blade's shoulders and fought his way through the drifts to
the wagon. Blade followed, wondering about this new complication and what
perils it might hold for him.
The wagon stairs were down. Morpho opened the door and Blade went in, hunching
down to avoid striking his head. Morpho followed and slammed the door against
the wind.
Blade's first sensation was of enormous relief. His face felt as if it had
been flayed. He stared around
the dimly lit wagon, trying to adjust his eyes to the shadow-haunted light.
There was a bad smell in the little wagon. By a pallet laid on the floor there
crouched an ancient crone, well robed and cowled. She did not turn when they
entered, but kept staring down at the face of the girl on the pallet.
Morpho tugged Blade toward the pallet. "My daughter," he said. "Her name is
Nantee. She is dying, Blade. I think she will die unless you can help her. I
cannot help her. Nor she." He indicated the crone.
"And I dare not ask anyone else for help. Only you, Blade. Only you!"
The dwarf was clutching Blade's sleeve and staring up at him. He grinned his
terrible grin. Tears trickled down that broad, ridiculous face.
Pity and anger, frustration, all commingled in Blade. Here was part of a
mystery explained, but he was not thinking of that. How was to save the girl?
He was no doctor.
he
He patted Morpho's shoulder. "I will do what I can," he said gruffly. "But do
not expect miracles.
How long has she been sick?"
"Since five days now. Before we came into the pass,. It is a fever. She burns,
Blade, like a fire."
Blade knelt by the bed. The crone, who had been wiping the girl's face with a
cloth, moved away.
Blade, feeling helpless, put a hand on the girl's forehead. It was dry and
Page 68
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
hot, yet she breathed easily enough. He moved the heavy robe covering her and
put his ear to her chest. Her skin was light, nearly as light as the Caths,
and her breasts had budded and were well on the way to development, with tiny
rose-tinted nipples.
She breathed easily and deeply, yet her flesh was like a stove. There was no
rasp of congestion.
Blade covered her again and looked at Morpho.
The dwarf spoke first. "It is not the coughing sickness. I thought that at
first, but no. It is only fever but such a fever as I have never seen before.
Can you help her, Blade?"
Blade smoothed back glossy dark hair from a high brow that gleamed lemony in
the taper. There was
Cath in her, no doubt of that. It showed in her face as well as her Mong
heritage. Her nose was delicate and straight, her mouth a rosebud still,
though the lips were badly fever cracked, and her eyes were oval, neither
round nor narrow, and without the deep Mong fold at the outer corners.
At that moment the girl opened her eyes. Blade felt a shiver trace along his
spine. Her eyes were green! A darker jade than those of Lali, but as pure,
with all the depth and none of the translucence. The girl stared up at Blade,
sensing the presence of a stranger, and raised a hand. By then Blade had
guessed.
This girl was blind.
The fragile little hand touched his beard. The girl said, "Are you here, my
father? Who is it that I
touch?"
The dwarf knelt by the pallet and leaned to kiss the girl's cheek. "A friend
of mine, Nantee. He is going to make you well."
The fingers, delicate as flowers, traced Blade's face. They touched his lips
beneath the beard, his nose, lingered on his eyes and stroked lightly across
his forehead. Suddenly the girl smiled.
"I like your friend, my father. He is good."
There was a tightness in Blade's chest and his eyes were hot. Compassion
banished his remaining
anger and irritation. But what could he do?
She left off touching Blade and searched with her hands for her
father. The dwarf, weeping unashamedly now, caught her hands and pressed
them to his malformed face.
"Yes, Nantee. Yes, he is good. He will make you well." He stared at Blade
across the girl, desperate and pleading through the tears.
Blade nodded curtly and looked away, unable to face such misery. "I said I
would do what I can.
How old is she?"
The girl had lapsed into coma again. Morpho arranged her hands and said,
"Twelve. Old enough for marriage, Blade. And old enough for "
He did not finish the sentence, nor did he need to. Blade already understood
that
.
Blade stood up abruptly, nearly braining himself on a low beam. He rubbed his
head and said, "We must get the fever down. Otherwise she will die soon."
"How, Blade? How?"
He stood frowning for a moment. How indeed? Then he knew what he must do. Must
do because there was nothing else to do!
He glanced around the gloomy wagon. The crone, squatting in a corner, watched
him with beady dark eyes and no expression on her million-wrinkled face. How
much of death she must have seen!
"You have something in which we can gather ice and snow?"
"We have earthen bowls. And the dung baskets beneath the wagon. They will do?"
"They will do. Come on, little man. There is no time to lose."
Page 69
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
They collected bowls and went out again into the blizzard. The wind leaped at
them with a howl of triumph.
Morpho got the dung baskets, hanging beneath the wagon, and they set about
collecting ice and snow, scooping it into the receptacles with their bare
hands.
"I had not thought of such a thing," Morpho said against the scream of the
wind. "Your brain is better than mine, Blade."
Blade kept scooping and the dwarf added, "But then I am a fool and that is as
it should be." The wind could not obliterate the bitterness in the gnome's
voice.
They lugged their burdens into the wagon and Blade sent Morpho back for more
snow and ice. He stripped the covering from the unconscious girl until she lay
naked.
She was well developed for twelve. That was the Mong in her. The slim legs
were Cath. Her feet were small, with high arches and fine bones.
Blade glanced at the crone and jerked his head in command. She came to the bed
and began to assist Blade in packing ice and snow around the slim body. Blade
began at the shoulders, the crone at the feet, and they mounded the ice and
snow against the burning flesh.
The dwarf came back with a dung basket full of snow and Blade dumped it on the
girl's flat belly. He tossed the basket back to Morpho. "More!"
In a few minutes she was completely covered but for her face. Morpho sent the
crone back to her corner while he and Blade squatted on the floor. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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from time to time. They passed half a dozen wagons, all dark, then approached
one in which a light glowed. Morpho tapped
Blade on the shoulder.
"That one. And, Blade, I would have an oath from you."
Blade, frozen and gasping, encompassed by an icy hell, thought it a poor time
indeed for oaths. He growled like a wounded bear.
"What oath, man? This is no time for such matters! We will freeze to death
while you yammer about oaths. I "
Morpho was insistent. The carven grin, colder than the Khad's heart, pressed
against Blade's ear.
"A simple oath, Blade! I must have it that you will not speak of what you see
in the wagon!"
Blade nodded. Anything to get on with it. "All right, Morpho. I give my word.
Now do we go or does the wind murder us?"
"Let me down."
Morpho slipped from Blade's shoulders and fought his way through the drifts to
the wagon. Blade followed, wondering about this new complication and what
perils it might hold for him.
The wagon stairs were down. Morpho opened the door and Blade went in, hunching
down to avoid striking his head. Morpho followed and slammed the door against
the wind.
Blade's first sensation was of enormous relief. His face felt as if it had
been flayed. He stared around
the dimly lit wagon, trying to adjust his eyes to the shadow-haunted light.
There was a bad smell in the little wagon. By a pallet laid on the floor there
crouched an ancient crone, well robed and cowled. She did not turn when they
entered, but kept staring down at the face of the girl on the pallet.
Morpho tugged Blade toward the pallet. "My daughter," he said. "Her name is
Nantee. She is dying, Blade. I think she will die unless you can help her. I
cannot help her. Nor she." He indicated the crone.
"And I dare not ask anyone else for help. Only you, Blade. Only you!"
The dwarf was clutching Blade's sleeve and staring up at him. He grinned his
terrible grin. Tears trickled down that broad, ridiculous face.
Pity and anger, frustration, all commingled in Blade. Here was part of a
mystery explained, but he was not thinking of that. How was to save the girl?
He was no doctor.
he
He patted Morpho's shoulder. "I will do what I can," he said gruffly. "But do
not expect miracles.
How long has she been sick?"
"Since five days now. Before we came into the pass,. It is a fever. She burns,
Blade, like a fire."
Blade knelt by the bed. The crone, who had been wiping the girl's face with a
cloth, moved away.
Blade, feeling helpless, put a hand on the girl's forehead. It was dry and
Page 68
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
hot, yet she breathed easily enough. He moved the heavy robe covering her and
put his ear to her chest. Her skin was light, nearly as light as the Caths,
and her breasts had budded and were well on the way to development, with tiny
rose-tinted nipples.
She breathed easily and deeply, yet her flesh was like a stove. There was no
rasp of congestion.
Blade covered her again and looked at Morpho.
The dwarf spoke first. "It is not the coughing sickness. I thought that at
first, but no. It is only fever but such a fever as I have never seen before.
Can you help her, Blade?"
Blade smoothed back glossy dark hair from a high brow that gleamed lemony in
the taper. There was
Cath in her, no doubt of that. It showed in her face as well as her Mong
heritage. Her nose was delicate and straight, her mouth a rosebud still,
though the lips were badly fever cracked, and her eyes were oval, neither
round nor narrow, and without the deep Mong fold at the outer corners.
At that moment the girl opened her eyes. Blade felt a shiver trace along his
spine. Her eyes were green! A darker jade than those of Lali, but as pure,
with all the depth and none of the translucence. The girl stared up at Blade,
sensing the presence of a stranger, and raised a hand. By then Blade had
guessed.
This girl was blind.
The fragile little hand touched his beard. The girl said, "Are you here, my
father? Who is it that I
touch?"
The dwarf knelt by the pallet and leaned to kiss the girl's cheek. "A friend
of mine, Nantee. He is going to make you well."
The fingers, delicate as flowers, traced Blade's face. They touched his lips
beneath the beard, his nose, lingered on his eyes and stroked lightly across
his forehead. Suddenly the girl smiled.
"I like your friend, my father. He is good."
There was a tightness in Blade's chest and his eyes were hot. Compassion
banished his remaining
anger and irritation. But what could he do?
She left off touching Blade and searched with her hands for her
father. The dwarf, weeping unashamedly now, caught her hands and pressed
them to his malformed face.
"Yes, Nantee. Yes, he is good. He will make you well." He stared at Blade
across the girl, desperate and pleading through the tears.
Blade nodded curtly and looked away, unable to face such misery. "I said I
would do what I can.
How old is she?"
The girl had lapsed into coma again. Morpho arranged her hands and said,
"Twelve. Old enough for marriage, Blade. And old enough for "
He did not finish the sentence, nor did he need to. Blade already understood
that
.
Blade stood up abruptly, nearly braining himself on a low beam. He rubbed his
head and said, "We must get the fever down. Otherwise she will die soon."
"How, Blade? How?"
He stood frowning for a moment. How indeed? Then he knew what he must do. Must
do because there was nothing else to do!
He glanced around the gloomy wagon. The crone, squatting in a corner, watched
him with beady dark eyes and no expression on her million-wrinkled face. How
much of death she must have seen!
"You have something in which we can gather ice and snow?"
"We have earthen bowls. And the dung baskets beneath the wagon. They will do?"
"They will do. Come on, little man. There is no time to lose."
Page 69
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
They collected bowls and went out again into the blizzard. The wind leaped at
them with a howl of triumph.
Morpho got the dung baskets, hanging beneath the wagon, and they set about
collecting ice and snow, scooping it into the receptacles with their bare
hands.
"I had not thought of such a thing," Morpho said against the scream of the
wind. "Your brain is better than mine, Blade."
Blade kept scooping and the dwarf added, "But then I am a fool and that is as
it should be." The wind could not obliterate the bitterness in the gnome's
voice.
They lugged their burdens into the wagon and Blade sent Morpho back for more
snow and ice. He stripped the covering from the unconscious girl until she lay
naked.
She was well developed for twelve. That was the Mong in her. The slim legs
were Cath. Her feet were small, with high arches and fine bones.
Blade glanced at the crone and jerked his head in command. She came to the bed
and began to assist Blade in packing ice and snow around the slim body. Blade
began at the shoulders, the crone at the feet, and they mounded the ice and
snow against the burning flesh.
The dwarf came back with a dung basket full of snow and Blade dumped it on the
girl's flat belly. He tossed the basket back to Morpho. "More!"
In a few minutes she was completely covered but for her face. Morpho sent the
crone back to her corner while he and Blade squatted on the floor. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]