[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
they re staked to the ground. Why have you destroyed Arth Slya? She tightened
her grip on his fist again, watched him strug-gling to hold back groans and
fight off the feeling of helplessness the worm s weight and her unlikely
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
strength were waking in him. She eased the pressure a little. Speak true and
you will die quickly and easily. Lie or refuse to speak, then my brother s
venom will consume you bit by bit and the Souldrinker will see you stay awake
for all of it.
His dark eyes darted about, he was fighting a last battle with himself,
desiring defiance but too intelligent to waste his strength hiding things that
had to be common knowl-edge in the villages below. With a visible effort he
re-laxed. All dead?
All. Slya watches over her children.
Easy they said. Round up the young and strong, no kids or dodderers .... The
breath hissed through his stiff lips. Nothing about no arsehole god getting
her eggs in a twist. Your Kumaliyn s skipped. Abanaskranjinga Em-peror of the
Temuengs rules here now.
So. Why come like wolves? There were no soldiers in Arth Slya.
Why ask me? I do what I m ordered. Good boy, pat im on his fuckin head.
Why come like wolves?
He sneered. Old Krajink s not about to let a little bunch of mud dawbers nest
free, thinkin they can make it without him. Maybe other folk they get the idea
they got rights. Mudfeet, mudheads stompin up trouble, just get chopped, but
Krajink he s got to pay us to do the choppin and he parts with silver bits
like grasslion from his meat. Cheaper to stomp first. Don t mess up trade or
plantin and harvestin. Cheap way to get valuable slaves. Trust of Krajink to
see that. He figures your Arth Slya artisans might as well be making their
junk for him where he can keep an eye on them. Figures maybe he can make Durat
a rep as big as your dawbers got.
Brann took a step toward him. Slaves, she spat. Half my folk dead so that
... that ... he can prance around claiming their work!
He raised his thin arched brows, the sound of his voice insensibly seducing
him into speaking further, turning this interrogation into something like a
conversation. So what s new about that, bint? In old lardarse s head we re
all his slaves. We hop when he pulls our strings. Don t hop, get the chop. Why
not? Do the same, us, to folk beneath us.
Brann stared at him, not comprehending much of what he was saying. It was a
world totally other than the one she d grown up in. All she got from the
speech was the ultimate responsibility of the Temueng emperor for the
destruction of Arth Slya. The Fair, she said. What happened to the Arth
Slya folk at the Fair?
On their way, bint. On ship to Andurya Durat.
Brann put her hands behind her back, clenched them into her fists, struggled
to keep her voice steady. Were any of them killed?
And get chopped for wasting prime meat? Uh-uh. Brann closed her eyes. Her
father and her brothers were alive. Captives, but alive.
Bramble! Yaril s voice.
Jolted out of her daze, Brann came round the Temueng s feet and stopped beside
her. What?
That all you wanted to know?
Yes ... um ... yes.
Well? Yaril gestured impatiently.
Brann rubbed her hands down the sides of her bloodied shirt, blood from her
wounded arm, long dried. It was different somehow, looking into his eyes,
listening to him talk, seeing his fear, seeing him as a person, knowing him.
With all the harm he d done her, she shrank from taking him; the revulsion she
felt was almost more than she could overcome. She reached heavily toward him,
saw the leap of fear in his eyes, saw it dulling to resignation. Her hand
fell. I can t, she wailed. I .... An immense hot fury took hold of her,
drowned her will, worked her arms, set her hands on his brow and mouth and
drew his life in a rushing roar out of him.
Then he was dead and that thing went wheeling away. It wasn t the children; as
wobbly as her thinking was, she was able to understand that. Cautiously Yaril
came closer, reached out. A spark snapped between them, then the strong small
Page 40
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
hands were closed on her arm, and Yaril was pressing against her, warm and
alive, murmuring comfort to her. Another spark snapping, and Jaril was
smoothing his hands along her shoulders, gently massaging her neck and
shoulder muscles. They worked the shock out of her, gave her the support she
needed until she was able to stand.
Yaril stood beside her, holding her hand. What was THAT?
Brann moved her shoulders, flexed her fingers, the children s hands [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl exclamation.htw.pl
they re staked to the ground. Why have you destroyed Arth Slya? She tightened
her grip on his fist again, watched him strug-gling to hold back groans and
fight off the feeling of helplessness the worm s weight and her unlikely
Page 39
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
strength were waking in him. She eased the pressure a little. Speak true and
you will die quickly and easily. Lie or refuse to speak, then my brother s
venom will consume you bit by bit and the Souldrinker will see you stay awake
for all of it.
His dark eyes darted about, he was fighting a last battle with himself,
desiring defiance but too intelligent to waste his strength hiding things that
had to be common knowl-edge in the villages below. With a visible effort he
re-laxed. All dead?
All. Slya watches over her children.
Easy they said. Round up the young and strong, no kids or dodderers .... The
breath hissed through his stiff lips. Nothing about no arsehole god getting
her eggs in a twist. Your Kumaliyn s skipped. Abanaskranjinga Em-peror of the
Temuengs rules here now.
So. Why come like wolves? There were no soldiers in Arth Slya.
Why ask me? I do what I m ordered. Good boy, pat im on his fuckin head.
Why come like wolves?
He sneered. Old Krajink s not about to let a little bunch of mud dawbers nest
free, thinkin they can make it without him. Maybe other folk they get the idea
they got rights. Mudfeet, mudheads stompin up trouble, just get chopped, but
Krajink he s got to pay us to do the choppin and he parts with silver bits
like grasslion from his meat. Cheaper to stomp first. Don t mess up trade or
plantin and harvestin. Cheap way to get valuable slaves. Trust of Krajink to
see that. He figures your Arth Slya artisans might as well be making their
junk for him where he can keep an eye on them. Figures maybe he can make Durat
a rep as big as your dawbers got.
Brann took a step toward him. Slaves, she spat. Half my folk dead so that
... that ... he can prance around claiming their work!
He raised his thin arched brows, the sound of his voice insensibly seducing
him into speaking further, turning this interrogation into something like a
conversation. So what s new about that, bint? In old lardarse s head we re
all his slaves. We hop when he pulls our strings. Don t hop, get the chop. Why
not? Do the same, us, to folk beneath us.
Brann stared at him, not comprehending much of what he was saying. It was a
world totally other than the one she d grown up in. All she got from the
speech was the ultimate responsibility of the Temueng emperor for the
destruction of Arth Slya. The Fair, she said. What happened to the Arth
Slya folk at the Fair?
On their way, bint. On ship to Andurya Durat.
Brann put her hands behind her back, clenched them into her fists, struggled
to keep her voice steady. Were any of them killed?
And get chopped for wasting prime meat? Uh-uh. Brann closed her eyes. Her
father and her brothers were alive. Captives, but alive.
Bramble! Yaril s voice.
Jolted out of her daze, Brann came round the Temueng s feet and stopped beside
her. What?
That all you wanted to know?
Yes ... um ... yes.
Well? Yaril gestured impatiently.
Brann rubbed her hands down the sides of her bloodied shirt, blood from her
wounded arm, long dried. It was different somehow, looking into his eyes,
listening to him talk, seeing his fear, seeing him as a person, knowing him.
With all the harm he d done her, she shrank from taking him; the revulsion she
felt was almost more than she could overcome. She reached heavily toward him,
saw the leap of fear in his eyes, saw it dulling to resignation. Her hand
fell. I can t, she wailed. I .... An immense hot fury took hold of her,
drowned her will, worked her arms, set her hands on his brow and mouth and
drew his life in a rushing roar out of him.
Then he was dead and that thing went wheeling away. It wasn t the children; as
wobbly as her thinking was, she was able to understand that. Cautiously Yaril
came closer, reached out. A spark snapped between them, then the strong small
Page 40
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
hands were closed on her arm, and Yaril was pressing against her, warm and
alive, murmuring comfort to her. Another spark snapping, and Jaril was
smoothing his hands along her shoulders, gently massaging her neck and
shoulder muscles. They worked the shock out of her, gave her the support she
needed until she was able to stand.
Yaril stood beside her, holding her hand. What was THAT?
Brann moved her shoulders, flexed her fingers, the children s hands [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]