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ever eaten. By the time the last of it was gone, Gil found that he missed it,
thinking of their shrunken stock of fruit and stony loaves.
They came down out of the mountains the next day, just as the first snows
threatened the heights. At the merestone that marked the boundary of
Coramonde, they came to the first foreign border.
They were met with suspicion. The lesser states and kingdoms had turned back
virtually everyone, but the letters of transit and Angorman s badge got the
party past.
Gil saw Andre s wisdom in not taking more men. Four, with a woman and child,
were enough to guard and provide. There was an inner resonance to two pairs of
armed men, the implied capacity to defend at all points. Still, they were few
enough so that border guards were inclined to permit them by. A military
escort, in this climate, could have proceeded only by force.
They sold one packhorse, no longer needing it. The wide, straight Western
Tangent took them quickly south, sometimes passing through an entire lesser
kingdom in a day. They were able to buy food, particularly the proteins
Woodsinger needed. The nurse allowed as how the child was old enough to begin
taking small samples of regular foods, and began feeding her mushed bits of
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egg, cheese and fruit.
Morale improved; conversation became more lively. One afternoon Ferrian
brought down a pheasant with his war-quoit, the first fresh game they d had in
weeks. It only afforded each a small portion, but put them in an exceptional
mood.
How come, Gil asked Andre that night, tossing a bone into the fire, you do
that? When you were talking about your sister just now, you said sorcery.
But you always call your stuff wizardry, and they always say Bey s a
sorcerer.
Andre leaned back against his saddle. All those terms denote diverse methods
of dealing with the same thing. They are different paths of approach. Never
would I make a living sacrifice.
You mean human beings?
I mean any life. The wizard stretched his legs out. Woodsinger, halfway
through a feeding, burped the baby. I am no newcomer to strife, Gil. I have
laid more than one man low in open battle. But I will not use up life as an
ingredient in conjuration.
But Gabe s a sorceress. She has?
Of that you must ask her. I will only say there are times when the life of an
enemy, a malefactor, can be used to save the life of a friend, by mystic
procedure. It has been known for such an exchange to be made, and for the
person who did it to be acclaimed. Few object to the loss of an evil life if
it saves a good one. Yet that operation is sorcery, and there is no disguising
it. Beyond this, you will have to query Gabrielle.
Angorman spoke, firelight shadowing his face under his big slouch hat. You
will hear it said that Andre deCourteney is too meek for transcendent magics,
not hardhearted enough to cope with them. It is not so; he never swayed from
any trial or test, nor failed any. If you want the long and short of it, Gil
MacDonald, there are boundaries over which a wizard will not step, things he
will not do, to make enchantments work, however puissant he is. But if man or
woman overstep, it is sorcery, however slight the trespass.
The talk was getting to Andre. There is little more to the topic than that.
Throwing another piece of wood on their fire, he huddled down in his cloak.
The baby was full. Woodsinger inserted her finger gently at the side of the
child s mouth to break suction. She laved her nipple with a cloth, closed her
voluminous robes and retired to her cramped tent.
The first watch was Gil s. He stared into the fire, the Mauser under his hand.
It was all well and good that Andre was principled, but what if that meant Bey
had him outclassed? It would be best, the American decided, if the wizard
finally faced his age-old enemy with his sister by his side. No one could
afford to grant any advantage to the Hand of Salamá.
* * * *
They were in a country of fields and vineyards. Though the nights had been
cold the days were warm here. Jeb Stuart s breath would shoot jets of steam
from his nostrils when he was being saddled, but later he d be in danger of
overheating, and Gil would feel sweat trickling under his byrnie.
One afternoon a wind came up, an angry storm on its heels. Andre had some
weather cantations but didn t want to use them, to avoid attracting any
notice. The land was fairly flat, with few trees and no apparent shelter.
Angorman left the road, carefully examining the face of a low rock wall, the
only prominent feature in the area. He announced that they could sit out the
storm in the lee of the cliff. It looked just like more ground to Gil, but
Andre and Ferrian accepted the Saint-Commander s word. They moved rubble and
crowded a close little camp against the rock wall.
The storm broke. Just as Angorman had promised, they huddled, riders and
animals, in a dry margin six feet wide, while rain soaked the ground just
beyond.
The rain stopped and started all night, refusing to go or break. But it had
slackened by the time they were breaking camp. Andre said they d reach the
border of Glyffa in two days.
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The companions rode stretching, working their muscles to drive out the chill.
Woodsinger held the baby inside her robes, as she sometimes did to warm her. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]