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bandits. As always, they were a moth-eaten, vicious-looking lot. One, dressed in a dozen ragged
castoffs, was kneeling before the hymnal merchant, who was holding his abused nose with both hands.
Lomo stood with his back to us, surveying the scene.
"Great Isis, I'm really, really sorry!" the bandit, a scruffy, bald-headed rogue, wailed.
"A-about what?" Dal spoke through his hands, his face pale as watered cream.
"About killing that self-satisfied, stuck-up prig of a prime minister from Mazor last week and stealing all
his gold."
"And you w-won't do it again?" Dal prompted.
The bandit wiped his eyes. "Well, of course, I'll do it again. Are you crazy?"
"Next!" Lomo called.
Gerta's head eased up over the side of the cliff and she crept up beside me, panting. "Now what?" she
whispered, belly-down in the dirt. "Shall we charge them one at a time or together?"
My mail tightened another notch. This time, I actually felt it contract. My hand flew to the first buckle on
the side seam.
"I could kill them all myself," Gerta said, "but it seems unsporting not to let you in on the fun."
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Another sinner was brought before the hymnal merchant in the wavering circle of firelight. "A-and you?"
Dal quavered.
This bandit was a withered old coot who looked vaguely familiar for some reason. Had I perhaps done
a poor job of killing him at some point too like Lomo? "I ain't sorry about a bloomin' thing!" he declared.
Lomo cuffed him into the ashes at the edge of the fire. "You wanted to confess. Now get on with it!"
"My mail!" I wheezed at Gerta, fingers wrenching vainly at the buckle. "Get it off!"
Her eyes widened. "Now?"
The bandit picked himself up and brushed at the new smudges on his ragged trousers. "Well, I suppose I
could say I'm sorry about impersonating a goatherd last night so I could sprinkle your magic shrinking
potion on Hallah Iron-Thighs' mail."
"That was very wicked of you!" Lomo said and then the two of them guffawed.
I recognized him now, as the scene before me was being rapidly blotted out by swirling darkness of
impending unconsciousness due to lack of air. He was the smelly lout who kept hovering behind my back
at the tavern. Magic, I thought weakly. Lomo had used one of his bandits to magick me, the rotten
bastard! I could feel my veins bulging, my face turning purple. My fingers wrenched at the buckle, but it
must have been jammed in the fall I'd taken earlier and wouldn't give.
"Hallah, they're going to hear you!" Gerta whispered disapprovingly.
"Yes, ducks." Lomo walked around the boulder. "You really should be more careful."
"Don't worry, Hallah!" Gerta sprang to her feet. "I'll save a few for you to kill!"
The first buckle finally gave and my mail popped open down to the second buckle, giving me a bit more
room to breathe, though not nearly enough.
Gerta charged, but her balance was off, courtesy no doubt of the lump on her head. Lomo thrust out his
foot, then turned to me as she went down like a poleaxed buffalo. "What about you, ducks? Is there
something you'd like to confess before we throw you into that convenient bottomless crevice over there?
It's best to go out with a clean conscience, you know."
With a creak, the second buckle opened. I gulped air into my straining lungs. Gerta was sprawled on the
ground at Perchis Dal's feet, a new lump on her head beside the earlier one, making a matched set. I was
outnumbered thirty to one. Lomo had my horse and my sword. Even my trusty mail, veteran of years of
fighting, had let me down. Maybe thiswas the Change of Life after all and I'd worked too long at this
exhausting, dangerous business. Maybe it was time to hang up my
"Can I go now?" Dal ducked his head. "You can keep the donkeys and hymnals."
Lomo whirled and shoved him to the ground beside Gerta's limp form. "Get on with the confessions!"
Dal's head hit Gerta's scabbard with a sharp crack. His eyes fluttered, then he sagged like a windless
sail. The bandits surged forward, aghast. "Lomo, you killed our priest!" one of them cried. "Now, how
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are we going to confess?"
My fingers wrenched desperately at the last buckle and finally with a squeak, it gave. My mail split open
along the side seam and I drew in a blessed full breath.
"You promised us hymns and sermons and confession!" A hulking brute seized Lomo's shirt and hauled
him up onto his toes. "Otherwise, we'd never have followed you. Now, we've finally caught something at
least close to a priest, after all these months, and you bash his blinkin' head in. I think we need us a new
king!"
A chorus of assent went up on all sides. Lomo looked decidedly nervous.
"First, though," the tall brute said, "throw that meddling Iron-Thighs broad down the crevice. We was
doing fine until she showed up!"
"Yeah!" They advanced on me, a reeking, unkempt mob, unsatisfied repentance blazing in their eyes.
I raised my chin, remembering whose daughter I was. No bunch of priest-deprived bandits was going to
take me down! A true warrior is never without resources. If they wanted a sermon
"Brethren!" I cried. "We find ourselves brought together by fate tonight, out here, underneath these
brilliant and, I can assure you, all-seeing stars!"
They paused, slack-jawed.
"Some of you have not always led, shall we say, admirable lives," I said with as much authority as I
could muster. "Of that I think we can be certain."
One of the worthless band whimpered.
"Down on your knees, dogs!" I crossed my arms and looked uncompromising. "It's time to make
amends!"
Three of the closest knelt. "Wait a minute!" Lomo cried, still hanging by his shirt from the brute's fist.
"She's not a priest!"
"You never take presents to your mothers, do you?" I tapped my foot.
Two more dropped to their knees. Their eyes looked suspiciously red. "This is stupid," Lomo broke in.
"Don't lis "
His captor rammed him facefirst to the ground, then knelt, folding his hands piously. Lomo sprawled
limply and barely breathing in the fire's dancing shadows.
"You slurp your soup and eat with your mouths open! You curse and burp and never ever share!"
Five more knelt, openly sobbing.
Gerta stirred. I put my foot in the middle of her back to hold her in place. "Raise your eyes to the stars
and confess all the nasty, dirty, rotten things you've ever done!"
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The holdouts knelt along with the rest of my congregation and commenced airing their dirty laundry. It
was a loud and most enthusiastic list. I eased my foot off Gerta's back. "Get up!" I whispered urgently.
"We have to go!"
Her hand twitched.
"Now would be a real good time!" I said.
The confessing faltered and the bandits' feral eyes once again glittered at me in the firelight. I whirled
back to them. "Do you call those sins?" I cried. "By all the powers above, you are a pathetic bunch! I
thought you were men! Mygrandmother has committed worse crimes than that!"
They raised their eyes and went back to it with a vengeance. I shuddered at the transgressions
mentioned; by all accounts, they had been a very naughty lot.
Gerta groaned, then hitched herself away from the fire, one agonizingly slow bit at a time. I reached
down and slipped a hand through Dal's belt and dragged him out of the light. "Find the horses," I told
Gerta. "I'll collect our swords."
She nodded groggily and lurched off into the darkness. I put my hands on my hips and strode through
the crowd. One of the appropriated hymnals lay open close to the fire and I picked it up and examined
the inside cover. Oh, ho! I thought. If we ever got back to the lowlands, both King Mytchell the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
bandits. As always, they were a moth-eaten, vicious-looking lot. One, dressed in a dozen ragged
castoffs, was kneeling before the hymnal merchant, who was holding his abused nose with both hands.
Lomo stood with his back to us, surveying the scene.
"Great Isis, I'm really, really sorry!" the bandit, a scruffy, bald-headed rogue, wailed.
"A-about what?" Dal spoke through his hands, his face pale as watered cream.
"About killing that self-satisfied, stuck-up prig of a prime minister from Mazor last week and stealing all
his gold."
"And you w-won't do it again?" Dal prompted.
The bandit wiped his eyes. "Well, of course, I'll do it again. Are you crazy?"
"Next!" Lomo called.
Gerta's head eased up over the side of the cliff and she crept up beside me, panting. "Now what?" she
whispered, belly-down in the dirt. "Shall we charge them one at a time or together?"
My mail tightened another notch. This time, I actually felt it contract. My hand flew to the first buckle on
the side seam.
"I could kill them all myself," Gerta said, "but it seems unsporting not to let you in on the fun."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Another sinner was brought before the hymnal merchant in the wavering circle of firelight. "A-and you?"
Dal quavered.
This bandit was a withered old coot who looked vaguely familiar for some reason. Had I perhaps done
a poor job of killing him at some point too like Lomo? "I ain't sorry about a bloomin' thing!" he declared.
Lomo cuffed him into the ashes at the edge of the fire. "You wanted to confess. Now get on with it!"
"My mail!" I wheezed at Gerta, fingers wrenching vainly at the buckle. "Get it off!"
Her eyes widened. "Now?"
The bandit picked himself up and brushed at the new smudges on his ragged trousers. "Well, I suppose I
could say I'm sorry about impersonating a goatherd last night so I could sprinkle your magic shrinking
potion on Hallah Iron-Thighs' mail."
"That was very wicked of you!" Lomo said and then the two of them guffawed.
I recognized him now, as the scene before me was being rapidly blotted out by swirling darkness of
impending unconsciousness due to lack of air. He was the smelly lout who kept hovering behind my back
at the tavern. Magic, I thought weakly. Lomo had used one of his bandits to magick me, the rotten
bastard! I could feel my veins bulging, my face turning purple. My fingers wrenched at the buckle, but it
must have been jammed in the fall I'd taken earlier and wouldn't give.
"Hallah, they're going to hear you!" Gerta whispered disapprovingly.
"Yes, ducks." Lomo walked around the boulder. "You really should be more careful."
"Don't worry, Hallah!" Gerta sprang to her feet. "I'll save a few for you to kill!"
The first buckle finally gave and my mail popped open down to the second buckle, giving me a bit more
room to breathe, though not nearly enough.
Gerta charged, but her balance was off, courtesy no doubt of the lump on her head. Lomo thrust out his
foot, then turned to me as she went down like a poleaxed buffalo. "What about you, ducks? Is there
something you'd like to confess before we throw you into that convenient bottomless crevice over there?
It's best to go out with a clean conscience, you know."
With a creak, the second buckle opened. I gulped air into my straining lungs. Gerta was sprawled on the
ground at Perchis Dal's feet, a new lump on her head beside the earlier one, making a matched set. I was
outnumbered thirty to one. Lomo had my horse and my sword. Even my trusty mail, veteran of years of
fighting, had let me down. Maybe thiswas the Change of Life after all and I'd worked too long at this
exhausting, dangerous business. Maybe it was time to hang up my
"Can I go now?" Dal ducked his head. "You can keep the donkeys and hymnals."
Lomo whirled and shoved him to the ground beside Gerta's limp form. "Get on with the confessions!"
Dal's head hit Gerta's scabbard with a sharp crack. His eyes fluttered, then he sagged like a windless
sail. The bandits surged forward, aghast. "Lomo, you killed our priest!" one of them cried. "Now, how
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
are we going to confess?"
My fingers wrenched desperately at the last buckle and finally with a squeak, it gave. My mail split open
along the side seam and I drew in a blessed full breath.
"You promised us hymns and sermons and confession!" A hulking brute seized Lomo's shirt and hauled
him up onto his toes. "Otherwise, we'd never have followed you. Now, we've finally caught something at
least close to a priest, after all these months, and you bash his blinkin' head in. I think we need us a new
king!"
A chorus of assent went up on all sides. Lomo looked decidedly nervous.
"First, though," the tall brute said, "throw that meddling Iron-Thighs broad down the crevice. We was
doing fine until she showed up!"
"Yeah!" They advanced on me, a reeking, unkempt mob, unsatisfied repentance blazing in their eyes.
I raised my chin, remembering whose daughter I was. No bunch of priest-deprived bandits was going to
take me down! A true warrior is never without resources. If they wanted a sermon
"Brethren!" I cried. "We find ourselves brought together by fate tonight, out here, underneath these
brilliant and, I can assure you, all-seeing stars!"
They paused, slack-jawed.
"Some of you have not always led, shall we say, admirable lives," I said with as much authority as I
could muster. "Of that I think we can be certain."
One of the worthless band whimpered.
"Down on your knees, dogs!" I crossed my arms and looked uncompromising. "It's time to make
amends!"
Three of the closest knelt. "Wait a minute!" Lomo cried, still hanging by his shirt from the brute's fist.
"She's not a priest!"
"You never take presents to your mothers, do you?" I tapped my foot.
Two more dropped to their knees. Their eyes looked suspiciously red. "This is stupid," Lomo broke in.
"Don't lis "
His captor rammed him facefirst to the ground, then knelt, folding his hands piously. Lomo sprawled
limply and barely breathing in the fire's dancing shadows.
"You slurp your soup and eat with your mouths open! You curse and burp and never ever share!"
Five more knelt, openly sobbing.
Gerta stirred. I put my foot in the middle of her back to hold her in place. "Raise your eyes to the stars
and confess all the nasty, dirty, rotten things you've ever done!"
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
The holdouts knelt along with the rest of my congregation and commenced airing their dirty laundry. It
was a loud and most enthusiastic list. I eased my foot off Gerta's back. "Get up!" I whispered urgently.
"We have to go!"
Her hand twitched.
"Now would be a real good time!" I said.
The confessing faltered and the bandits' feral eyes once again glittered at me in the firelight. I whirled
back to them. "Do you call those sins?" I cried. "By all the powers above, you are a pathetic bunch! I
thought you were men! Mygrandmother has committed worse crimes than that!"
They raised their eyes and went back to it with a vengeance. I shuddered at the transgressions
mentioned; by all accounts, they had been a very naughty lot.
Gerta groaned, then hitched herself away from the fire, one agonizingly slow bit at a time. I reached
down and slipped a hand through Dal's belt and dragged him out of the light. "Find the horses," I told
Gerta. "I'll collect our swords."
She nodded groggily and lurched off into the darkness. I put my hands on my hips and strode through
the crowd. One of the appropriated hymnals lay open close to the fire and I picked it up and examined
the inside cover. Oh, ho! I thought. If we ever got back to the lowlands, both King Mytchell the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]