[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.His words disconcertedPierrette, who was dressed as a boy."Has my guise worn so thin?""I see a white dress, and gold, and a cape of crimson.The rest is but a spellyou cast about yourself."A spell? Anselm had said that too.Had she, without knowing it, augmented thesimple deception of clothing and mannerisms? It would explain why her fatherand Anselm, who knew she was not male, could "forget." But could magic be donewithout conscious effort? Or had her mother cast the spell when she was small,and was it only now fading?* * *Yan Oors's mobile face shifted between melancholy frown and dry, prankish grinas he recounted his adventures.An unfaithful wife, out to meet herlover, was driven into a cave by a tusked boar, who ravished her as no humanlover could, then left her alone with shuddering, erotic memories that mighthave been a dream."That was cruel," Pierrette said."Was it? She enjoyed my tusky kisses, and I her plump whiteness.It had been along time since I sowed such a fair field.""She's with child?""It was a good deed, little mother.What else did she seek, that her husband'sbed could not provide?""And what will a boar's child be?" she asked."And why not a bear, instead?"Yan Oors allowed himself a ludicrous pout."I'm not entirely cruel.The childwill have a bit of a snout.but having seen her husband, there'll be no complaints." He shrugged."As forbears.when I was a god, men called me `Lord of the Animals,' and I worewhatever pelt I chose.""Are you again becoming a god?" Pierrette asked uneasily."Don't worry, daughter of Ma.I am no more a god than you are a goddess."That might have satisfied Pierrette, except that she saw a trace of a grin atthe corners of his mouth.She shrugged that off; this was not the cape,ensorcelled against the passage of hours.Too soon, it would be dawn.ShePage 105 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlpressed both of them for further tales of mischief and deeds well done, andtold them her own, dwelling with delight on those occasions when she hadappeared as.herself, a woman.As a sorceress of growing power, mistressof ancient words upon which she had put her own inflections.When all was said, she guided their talk from the past to the future to herstill-nebulous plans.They all had to be ready when and if the moment arose."We'll know when to act," Guihen assured her."Never fear, little mistress," growled John of the Bears."We'll keep an eyeon you, and on those important to your schemes."She shook her head doubtfully."Some necessary events may not occur formonths, or years.How will you know?"Guihen's laugh was a tinkling like little bells."When you see sunlight on thesilvery backside of a windblown leaf.When a gamin begs a copper.will it be me?""And when a shadow falls across your path," said Yan, "or a gray emberbrightens without a puff of air to feed it can you be sure I'm not watching?"* * *Morning came too soon, and she bade regretful good-byes.Without sleep, thetrek to Citharista stretched endlessly before her, and she considered going tothe Eagle's Beak instead, for a good night's sleep, but there was much to do.Tasks left undone fester like slivers beneath the skin.Pierrette had notspoken with P'er Otho in some time, having decided first to find out howeffective her campaign was.Despite the priest's uneasiness about the town'sbacksliding into pagan beliefs, he had not written to his bishop.But he wouldnot put it off forever.She had no idea how she would handle it when thebishop did visit Citharista.If she could put it off.Calming P'er Otho'sfears was as good a way as any.A horse was drop-reined beside his house.A soldier's horse, with those"stirrups" becoming popular with men who fought from horseback.She approachedcautiously and heard voices within."Why haven't you written? Are you afraid the bishop will have you removed? Ifyou don't, I'll see to it."Father Otho's softer reply was muffled."It's not just the woods demons," the voice continued."The old mage has a newapprentice, a demon herself though a lovely one, I'm told.""What harm have any of them done?" Otho asked, "if in fact, such `woodlandspirits' actually exist outside the superstitious minds of my parishioners?""They exist.You should be glad, for if they did not, and you still lostcontrol of your faithful, your superiors would.As things stand, you needonly plead the demons' strength." The loud voice was.Jerome.The nature of his arguments had at first caused her to reject thatidentification.Why would he a worshipper of the horned god wish the bishop tointervene? And why would not Cernunnos or the one who had consumed him simplyconsume Guihen and John, instead of pressing for a bishop to drive them off?Was there something she did not understand a faulty assumption? Jerome was aworshipper of Cernunnos or was he? She was not absolutely sure that herconfrontation with the Eater of Gods had taken place in the "real" world, orthat Jerome was himself aware of it.Was he just an occasional tool of the oneshe feared most, and his words today entirely his own? That would explaineverything.Should she wait until the knight departed? She dreaded and hated him.Shewould wait, and speak only with the priest.Her relief, when she decided that, made her suspect it was too easy.Theknight's arguments threatened not only her, but Anselm, Guihen, and Yan Oors.And calling her a "demon".She would show him!The door swung open on creaking pintles.Pierrette and both men weremomentarily disadvantaged by the contrasts of changed light.To Pierrette, theinterior was dark, the men mere shadows, their faces white moons.From thePage 106 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmltable where they sat, she was a dark, wavering figure illumined from behind."Ah Piers," said Father Otho, first to recover."How timely.Perhaps you canexplain the tales from theEagle's Beak.Several folk reported seeing you there.""He's the old wizard's helper," growled Jerome.Pierrette saw that the knightsat not upon the hardwooden bench, but on a thick cushion.The boils still troubled him."Is that so?" asked Otho."The magus calls him `apprentice,'" Jerome insisted.Otho's gaze became suspicious.Pierrette shrugged."The old man orders me about.If he chooses to call me his`apprentice,' what am Ito do? If he called me `goat,' would I grow horns?""You might," said the knight, "if the sorcerer wished it." He turned to Otho."Write to the bishop
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
