[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Must I go? she pleaded.
Yes, Derian said firmly. Earl Kestrel is quite delighted with this notice.
Very well, she said, to make my guardian happy, I will go.
Derian patted her sympathetically on one shoulder. I have the tub ready in my
room. Hurry and bathe. If you don t take too long, you should be able to spend
an hour or so in the garden with Holly. Just don t get filthy all over again.
Firekeeper had a wolf s fastidious nature a thing that might surprise those
who thought of the carnivores as filthy, ravening beasts delighting in blood
and gore. In reality, if water was available, wolves bathed after a kill or
after eating.
Freshly scrubbed, her hair caught up in a queue behind, dressed in a pair of
leather trousers and matching vest, Firekeeper hurried off to the gardens.
Holly was resting on one of the benches, enjoying a tumbler of well water
seasoned with crushed spearmint.
I thought you were coming, she said, patting the bench beside her. Your
falcon arrived a moment ago.
Elation, Firekeeper said seriously, is not my falcon. She just stay with
me.
It works out to about the same, Holly replied peacefully, as I
[ MISSING SECTION ]
What are you doing today? Firekeeper asked, eager to learn more of the
mysteries of gardening.
Mostly resting, child. It s hot this afternoon. I wonder that you don t wear
something lighter.
Firekeeper stroked the leather possessively. It protects. If not wear clothes
to protect, why wear at all?
I, Holly said with a soft, secret laugh, would think that you had figured
that out by now, but if you haven t&
Firekeeper had heard that type of chuckle before and said scornfully, I know
about mating. This is not the season. I do not need fine plumage.
For men, Holly replied, a hint of warning in her tone, it is always the
season. Never mind, child&
What are you doing today? Firekeeper repeated, feeling that this
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conversation was taking her out of her depth and, as usual, not liking the
feeling at all.
I was weeding around the acorn squash, but now I m resting. Holly sipped her
drink. I don t have your energy, child. After all, I m old enough to be your
grandmother.
Is there still weeding?
Always.
Where?
Without leaving her bench, Holly gave Firekeeper directions. Once Firekeeper
had settled into pulling the runner grass from between the rows of squash
vines, she asked, hoping to prompt a story:
You say you old enough to be my grandmother. Do you have grandchildren?
I do, Holly replied. Do you recall the head gardener?
Firekeeper had met the intense little man with his fussy manners, had noted
his nervous way of eyeing
Blind Seer as if he expected the wolf to dig up the rose gardens at the least
notice. She was not certain at all that she liked the head gardener but had
learned enough castle etiquette not to openly question those in positions of
authority.
She grunted a noncommittal Yes.
He is my oldest son.
No!
Yes. Once upon a time, I was the head gardener, but when my knees got creaky,
King Tedric permitted me to pass the title on to my son, even as my father
once passed it to me. It s an inheritance after a fashion, as real as property
or money.
Head Gardener is your son?
That s right.
But he s so& Firekeeper waved her hands, mimicking the head gardener s
mincing motions.
Holly laughed, not denying the truth, but not condemning the man either.
But he is also a very good gardener. I suspect he will learn to relax as he
ages. Being around gardens does that to you. In any case, Timin that s my
son s name has three children of his own. The elder two are already learning
the craft. You may have seen them about: Dan and Robyn.
Firekeeper had seen them, hardworking towheads dressed in matching smocks and
sandals. Her estimation of Timin Gardener went up a notch. At least he didn t
spare his children work to their eventual detriment. The two gardener sprigs
took their tasks seriously and if they paused to chase a butterfly or admire a
spider s web, they didn t expect others to make excuses for them just because
their father was the head gardener.
She d seen something of what such sloughing off of responsibility could do in
Citrine s sisters, Ruby and
Opal, and in Kenre s sisters, Nydia and Deste. Those middle girls were
becoming spoiled weak things who didn t seem to have any purpose in life but
learning how to be noblewomen. They seemed to think a good marriage the best
they could do for themselves, unlike Sapphire and Elise, whose training as
heirs had made them value themselves for what they could do.
Firekeeper sighed, remembering that the middle girls would be at dancing
practice today. She dreaded their sneers and giggles at her missteps, at her
inability to hear the guidance the music offered her feet. To distract herself
from that dreary prospect, Firekeeper asked:
Do you have any other children or grandchildren?
Holly nodded. I have a daughter who married a fisherman and lives by the
seacoast. She has two children and I expect will have more. My younger son
hasn t yet married too restless. He s in the military.
A sad expression flitted across Holly s wrinkled face. And I had another
daughter who is now dead.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
She was among those who followed Prince Barden across the mountains.
Oh! Firekeeper felt strange. Then I may have known her when I was very
small.
I had thought of that, Holly admitted. I suppose that s why at first I was
so glad to make your acquaintance. In a way, you were a link to my daughter.
What was her name? Firekeeper asked, sitting back on her heels, a weed
dangling from her hand.
Sarena, Sarena Gardener. Her husband was Donal Hunter. They had a little girl
named Tamara.
She looked so expectant that Firekeeper felt almost ill, for those names meant
nothing to her. She hated to disappoint the old woman, but she shook her head
slowly.
I m sorry. I don t remember. I was very small when the fire came.
Holly wiped away a tear that had somehow appeared on her withered cheek and
smiled bravely.
That s all right, dearie. I didn t expect that you would.
Firekeeper knew that her friend was lying and that truth made her feel all the
worse.
XIII
& and as I stand here on the border between life and death, sang the
minstrel, his coat of feathers and twine as marvelous as the soaring reaches
of his voice, here I stand, one hand
clutching the sword blade and the other pressed against the heart of my love,
pushing her back, saving her from death, in the wash of blood across my face
at last I see the truth, dark truth, black as dry blood&
The minstrel s voice rose, became sweeter still,
She loves me not at all
!
Elise knew by heart the story of which the minstrel sang. It was as old as the
kingdom, the tale of a man whose fingers were sliced off one by one as he
defended his faithless lover.
She hated the first part of the song, always found herself holding her breath
as the man catalogued the cold realities that sliced his soul far more cruelly
than the sword did his hand. Breath trapped aching in her chest, she waited
for the second verse, where the man, accepting truth in place of the lies that
had been so dear to him, watched his fingers regrow again one by one.
Red baptism, dripping from my brow, through the rose of new vision, I see her
laughing at my pale offering bent fingers on our cottage floor&
Seeking to distract herself until the hopeful verses began, Elise glanced at
Jet, wondering how he was responding to this classic story of love and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl akte20.pev.pl
Must I go? she pleaded.
Yes, Derian said firmly. Earl Kestrel is quite delighted with this notice.
Very well, she said, to make my guardian happy, I will go.
Derian patted her sympathetically on one shoulder. I have the tub ready in my
room. Hurry and bathe. If you don t take too long, you should be able to spend
an hour or so in the garden with Holly. Just don t get filthy all over again.
Firekeeper had a wolf s fastidious nature a thing that might surprise those
who thought of the carnivores as filthy, ravening beasts delighting in blood
and gore. In reality, if water was available, wolves bathed after a kill or
after eating.
Freshly scrubbed, her hair caught up in a queue behind, dressed in a pair of
leather trousers and matching vest, Firekeeper hurried off to the gardens.
Holly was resting on one of the benches, enjoying a tumbler of well water
seasoned with crushed spearmint.
I thought you were coming, she said, patting the bench beside her. Your
falcon arrived a moment ago.
Elation, Firekeeper said seriously, is not my falcon. She just stay with
me.
It works out to about the same, Holly replied peacefully, as I
[ MISSING SECTION ]
What are you doing today? Firekeeper asked, eager to learn more of the
mysteries of gardening.
Mostly resting, child. It s hot this afternoon. I wonder that you don t wear
something lighter.
Firekeeper stroked the leather possessively. It protects. If not wear clothes
to protect, why wear at all?
I, Holly said with a soft, secret laugh, would think that you had figured
that out by now, but if you haven t&
Firekeeper had heard that type of chuckle before and said scornfully, I know
about mating. This is not the season. I do not need fine plumage.
For men, Holly replied, a hint of warning in her tone, it is always the
season. Never mind, child&
What are you doing today? Firekeeper repeated, feeling that this
Page 128
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
conversation was taking her out of her depth and, as usual, not liking the
feeling at all.
I was weeding around the acorn squash, but now I m resting. Holly sipped her
drink. I don t have your energy, child. After all, I m old enough to be your
grandmother.
Is there still weeding?
Always.
Where?
Without leaving her bench, Holly gave Firekeeper directions. Once Firekeeper
had settled into pulling the runner grass from between the rows of squash
vines, she asked, hoping to prompt a story:
You say you old enough to be my grandmother. Do you have grandchildren?
I do, Holly replied. Do you recall the head gardener?
Firekeeper had met the intense little man with his fussy manners, had noted
his nervous way of eyeing
Blind Seer as if he expected the wolf to dig up the rose gardens at the least
notice. She was not certain at all that she liked the head gardener but had
learned enough castle etiquette not to openly question those in positions of
authority.
She grunted a noncommittal Yes.
He is my oldest son.
No!
Yes. Once upon a time, I was the head gardener, but when my knees got creaky,
King Tedric permitted me to pass the title on to my son, even as my father
once passed it to me. It s an inheritance after a fashion, as real as property
or money.
Head Gardener is your son?
That s right.
But he s so& Firekeeper waved her hands, mimicking the head gardener s
mincing motions.
Holly laughed, not denying the truth, but not condemning the man either.
But he is also a very good gardener. I suspect he will learn to relax as he
ages. Being around gardens does that to you. In any case, Timin that s my
son s name has three children of his own. The elder two are already learning
the craft. You may have seen them about: Dan and Robyn.
Firekeeper had seen them, hardworking towheads dressed in matching smocks and
sandals. Her estimation of Timin Gardener went up a notch. At least he didn t
spare his children work to their eventual detriment. The two gardener sprigs
took their tasks seriously and if they paused to chase a butterfly or admire a
spider s web, they didn t expect others to make excuses for them just because
their father was the head gardener.
She d seen something of what such sloughing off of responsibility could do in
Citrine s sisters, Ruby and
Opal, and in Kenre s sisters, Nydia and Deste. Those middle girls were
becoming spoiled weak things who didn t seem to have any purpose in life but
learning how to be noblewomen. They seemed to think a good marriage the best
they could do for themselves, unlike Sapphire and Elise, whose training as
heirs had made them value themselves for what they could do.
Firekeeper sighed, remembering that the middle girls would be at dancing
practice today. She dreaded their sneers and giggles at her missteps, at her
inability to hear the guidance the music offered her feet. To distract herself
from that dreary prospect, Firekeeper asked:
Do you have any other children or grandchildren?
Holly nodded. I have a daughter who married a fisherman and lives by the
seacoast. She has two children and I expect will have more. My younger son
hasn t yet married too restless. He s in the military.
A sad expression flitted across Holly s wrinkled face. And I had another
daughter who is now dead.
Page 129
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
She was among those who followed Prince Barden across the mountains.
Oh! Firekeeper felt strange. Then I may have known her when I was very
small.
I had thought of that, Holly admitted. I suppose that s why at first I was
so glad to make your acquaintance. In a way, you were a link to my daughter.
What was her name? Firekeeper asked, sitting back on her heels, a weed
dangling from her hand.
Sarena, Sarena Gardener. Her husband was Donal Hunter. They had a little girl
named Tamara.
She looked so expectant that Firekeeper felt almost ill, for those names meant
nothing to her. She hated to disappoint the old woman, but she shook her head
slowly.
I m sorry. I don t remember. I was very small when the fire came.
Holly wiped away a tear that had somehow appeared on her withered cheek and
smiled bravely.
That s all right, dearie. I didn t expect that you would.
Firekeeper knew that her friend was lying and that truth made her feel all the
worse.
XIII
& and as I stand here on the border between life and death, sang the
minstrel, his coat of feathers and twine as marvelous as the soaring reaches
of his voice, here I stand, one hand
clutching the sword blade and the other pressed against the heart of my love,
pushing her back, saving her from death, in the wash of blood across my face
at last I see the truth, dark truth, black as dry blood&
The minstrel s voice rose, became sweeter still,
She loves me not at all
!
Elise knew by heart the story of which the minstrel sang. It was as old as the
kingdom, the tale of a man whose fingers were sliced off one by one as he
defended his faithless lover.
She hated the first part of the song, always found herself holding her breath
as the man catalogued the cold realities that sliced his soul far more cruelly
than the sword did his hand. Breath trapped aching in her chest, she waited
for the second verse, where the man, accepting truth in place of the lies that
had been so dear to him, watched his fingers regrow again one by one.
Red baptism, dripping from my brow, through the rose of new vision, I see her
laughing at my pale offering bent fingers on our cottage floor&
Seeking to distract herself until the hopeful verses began, Elise glanced at
Jet, wondering how he was responding to this classic story of love and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]