[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
was delicious. "Kumis," Biri said. "The drink of Emperor Kubla."
The kumis began to act in Michael almost immediately. He wrote down the last
two lines of Coleridge's fragment:
For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of paradise.
And then it was upon him. It flashed and sparkled and came so fast he hardly
had time to record it all. He knew he would not have another chance. He tried
to catch as much as he could, and he exulted. There was no outside source for
this; it came from inside, purely from himself, or rather, that self which
connected him with Coleridge, with Yeats, with all the fine poets. That moment
when there was nothing but the Word, and it came in perfect waves.
And so the ice, cross ages dripping, Undermines the silken palace, Falls
beneath the cedars, ripping As if the years themselves with malice Seek to
still great dreams by gripping The gardens, walls and golden towers, Rending
from the Khan his powers&
Perhaps twenty lines passed so quickly he could not write them down. They were
not essential.
As wave to wave, in storm sea floundering, His galliots beach, unguided at the
helm.
Thou Khan, who eats the fruit of Faerie, Who hastes to leave when bid to
tarry,
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%...er%2001%20-%20The%20Infinity%20
Concerto.html (192 of 198) [5/21/03 12:42:33 AM]
Bear, Greg - Songs of Earth and Power Vol. 1 - The Infinity Concerto
Listen to the sweet soft critic, That dusk-wrapped maid on sweet strings
playing, "Palace, towers and gardens," saying, "Cannot save your soul from
pity
Nor build from song a timeless city."
The Caverns roar with rising waters&
The ground trembled. Clarkham steadied himself against the table.
Page 202
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Drowning to the highest mountains, Flooding all the Khan's great slaughters
Beneath the whirling, vaulted fountains.
There was more, much more, and it did not simply spin through his head and
vanish. The song was created and completed, and Michael knew immediately it
was not the Song of Power Clarkham sought. It never had been. From the very
beginning, when they had commissioned Lin Piao Tai to build the palace, the
element of destruction had been plain.
Coleridge's poem, and Michael's share in it, were simply decoys, traps meant
to snare and destroy those, like Clarkham, who stood in the way of the
ultimate combatants. Waltiri, mage of the birds, the Cledar, had sent Michael;
the Crane Women and the Ban of Hours had cooperated; Tonn and the Maln had let
him pass.
Clarkham grabbed the sheets as soon as Michael stopped writing. He read them,
eyes widening. "Traitor,"
he said "This is not "
"It's finished. It isn't all there, but I've finished it," Michael said,
suddenly exhausted. Clarkham crumpled the pages and threw them down on the
table. Mora reached for the pliktera beside her chair. Clarkham turned to her,
but she would not look at him. The ground shook again as Nikolai backed away
from the table. From the chasm, the pulse of ice catapulting to the river bed
quickened. Clarkham swiveled to face
Biri, who stared at him implacably.
"You!" Clarkham said. "You're the traitor. You're still loyal to Tarax!"
"There was no disputing the boy's mission," Bin said. 'Tarax and Adonna willed
it, as well as the council of Eleu. All are united against you. Even you
willed it. The boy would have turned away, but you brought him here. He would
have refused the song, but you forced him to write it. On your own head,
Isomage."
Clarkham's face darkened with rage. His hands trembled, waiting to spill their
power.
"Better leave," Michael whispered to Nikolai. The Russian didn't need any more
encouragement. He leaped over the wall, dodged through the rose garden and
vaulted the fence to the icy marble floor. Fine cracks shot across the marble
surface behind him, throwing chips of stone into the air as the ground
shuddered. Michael reached down to retrieve the pages. He flattened them out
and held them behind his back.
"What shall I do with you all?" Clarkham asked. More than ever now, Michael
pitied him and feared him.
Bin took Mora's hand. They walked away from the Isomage, down the brick steps
to the lawn. The light passing through the silken dome was reddening and the
fabric rippled under the rough touch of a new wind.
Clarkham faced Michael alone on the patio. "Get out!" he cried. The black
marble screamed and separated along the ice veins. The lawn rippled and showed
gashes of soil. The roses shook. Most of the staked trees had turned to glass;
the blossoms shattered and cast their fragments on the dirt.
"GET OUT!"
Michael turned his back on the Isomage, neckhair prickling. He fully expected
to have his flesh riven from his bones, but Clarkham was concentrating all his
power on keeping the palace together.
One of the curved supporting poles snapped with the report of a gunshot. The
pole fell and tore out a
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%...er%2001%20-%20The%20Infinity%20
Concerto.html (193 of 198) [5/21/03 12:42:33 AM]
Bear, Greg - Songs of Earth and Power Vol. 1 - The Infinity Concerto length of
silk. The plaster and brick walls of Clarkham's home split. Chunks slipped
away and crumbled on impact. The house's timbers groaned in agony.
As Michael crossed the lawn, barely able to keep his balance, he heard
Clarkham shout his name. He looked back and saw the Isomage standing
Page 203
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
spread-legged on two separated pieces of the patio. The
Breed's hair flew out from his head. His hands and arms crackled with energy.
He held up a wickedly glowing finger.
"You may not go!" he shouted over the uproar.
Coils of viscous light oozed from his fingers and expanded above the rose
garden and lawn. They sank around Michael, forming a serpentine net of bright
green strands.
Michael felt his eyes grow warm, then hot. The shadow he cast was a dark,
enveloping thing, alone and indescribably nasty. He sprung away from the
shadow, passed through the web and leaped to the broken marble, his own hair
charged with power.
And all should cry, beware,beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
The shadow contained all of Bin's Sidhe discipline, all of the poisonous,
virulently inhumane nonsense about aloneness and self-mastery through [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
was delicious. "Kumis," Biri said. "The drink of Emperor Kubla."
The kumis began to act in Michael almost immediately. He wrote down the last
two lines of Coleridge's fragment:
For he on honey-dew hath fed And drunk the milk of paradise.
And then it was upon him. It flashed and sparkled and came so fast he hardly
had time to record it all. He knew he would not have another chance. He tried
to catch as much as he could, and he exulted. There was no outside source for
this; it came from inside, purely from himself, or rather, that self which
connected him with Coleridge, with Yeats, with all the fine poets. That moment
when there was nothing but the Word, and it came in perfect waves.
And so the ice, cross ages dripping, Undermines the silken palace, Falls
beneath the cedars, ripping As if the years themselves with malice Seek to
still great dreams by gripping The gardens, walls and golden towers, Rending
from the Khan his powers&
Perhaps twenty lines passed so quickly he could not write them down. They were
not essential.
As wave to wave, in storm sea floundering, His galliots beach, unguided at the
helm.
Thou Khan, who eats the fruit of Faerie, Who hastes to leave when bid to
tarry,
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%...er%2001%20-%20The%20Infinity%20
Concerto.html (192 of 198) [5/21/03 12:42:33 AM]
Bear, Greg - Songs of Earth and Power Vol. 1 - The Infinity Concerto
Listen to the sweet soft critic, That dusk-wrapped maid on sweet strings
playing, "Palace, towers and gardens," saying, "Cannot save your soul from
pity
Nor build from song a timeless city."
The Caverns roar with rising waters&
The ground trembled. Clarkham steadied himself against the table.
Page 202
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Drowning to the highest mountains, Flooding all the Khan's great slaughters
Beneath the whirling, vaulted fountains.
There was more, much more, and it did not simply spin through his head and
vanish. The song was created and completed, and Michael knew immediately it
was not the Song of Power Clarkham sought. It never had been. From the very
beginning, when they had commissioned Lin Piao Tai to build the palace, the
element of destruction had been plain.
Coleridge's poem, and Michael's share in it, were simply decoys, traps meant
to snare and destroy those, like Clarkham, who stood in the way of the
ultimate combatants. Waltiri, mage of the birds, the Cledar, had sent Michael;
the Crane Women and the Ban of Hours had cooperated; Tonn and the Maln had let
him pass.
Clarkham grabbed the sheets as soon as Michael stopped writing. He read them,
eyes widening. "Traitor,"
he said "This is not "
"It's finished. It isn't all there, but I've finished it," Michael said,
suddenly exhausted. Clarkham crumpled the pages and threw them down on the
table. Mora reached for the pliktera beside her chair. Clarkham turned to her,
but she would not look at him. The ground shook again as Nikolai backed away
from the table. From the chasm, the pulse of ice catapulting to the river bed
quickened. Clarkham swiveled to face
Biri, who stared at him implacably.
"You!" Clarkham said. "You're the traitor. You're still loyal to Tarax!"
"There was no disputing the boy's mission," Bin said. 'Tarax and Adonna willed
it, as well as the council of Eleu. All are united against you. Even you
willed it. The boy would have turned away, but you brought him here. He would
have refused the song, but you forced him to write it. On your own head,
Isomage."
Clarkham's face darkened with rage. His hands trembled, waiting to spill their
power.
"Better leave," Michael whispered to Nikolai. The Russian didn't need any more
encouragement. He leaped over the wall, dodged through the rose garden and
vaulted the fence to the icy marble floor. Fine cracks shot across the marble
surface behind him, throwing chips of stone into the air as the ground
shuddered. Michael reached down to retrieve the pages. He flattened them out
and held them behind his back.
"What shall I do with you all?" Clarkham asked. More than ever now, Michael
pitied him and feared him.
Bin took Mora's hand. They walked away from the Isomage, down the brick steps
to the lawn. The light passing through the silken dome was reddening and the
fabric rippled under the rough touch of a new wind.
Clarkham faced Michael alone on the patio. "Get out!" he cried. The black
marble screamed and separated along the ice veins. The lawn rippled and showed
gashes of soil. The roses shook. Most of the staked trees had turned to glass;
the blossoms shattered and cast their fragments on the dirt.
"GET OUT!"
Michael turned his back on the Isomage, neckhair prickling. He fully expected
to have his flesh riven from his bones, but Clarkham was concentrating all his
power on keeping the palace together.
One of the curved supporting poles snapped with the report of a gunshot. The
pole fell and tore out a
file:///F|/rah/Greg%20Bear/Bear,%20Greg%20-%...er%2001%20-%20The%20Infinity%20
Concerto.html (193 of 198) [5/21/03 12:42:33 AM]
Bear, Greg - Songs of Earth and Power Vol. 1 - The Infinity Concerto length of
silk. The plaster and brick walls of Clarkham's home split. Chunks slipped
away and crumbled on impact. The house's timbers groaned in agony.
As Michael crossed the lawn, barely able to keep his balance, he heard
Clarkham shout his name. He looked back and saw the Isomage standing
Page 203
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
spread-legged on two separated pieces of the patio. The
Breed's hair flew out from his head. His hands and arms crackled with energy.
He held up a wickedly glowing finger.
"You may not go!" he shouted over the uproar.
Coils of viscous light oozed from his fingers and expanded above the rose
garden and lawn. They sank around Michael, forming a serpentine net of bright
green strands.
Michael felt his eyes grow warm, then hot. The shadow he cast was a dark,
enveloping thing, alone and indescribably nasty. He sprung away from the
shadow, passed through the web and leaped to the broken marble, his own hair
charged with power.
And all should cry, beware,beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
The shadow contained all of Bin's Sidhe discipline, all of the poisonous,
virulently inhumane nonsense about aloneness and self-mastery through [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]