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like lava bubbling. MY NOTHING. She looked around, her eyes lighting finally
on Maratullik who was calmer than most, watching the destruction with an
indifference equaling hers. A hot finger stabbed at him. YOU! TOUCH MY
NOTHING AND CAMAL WILL BURN YOU TO ASH, CAMAL WILL BURY YOU IN HOT STONE SO
DEEP MAYFLY MORTALS WILL FORGET A CITY WAS EVER HERE. She stamped her foot.
The walls groaned and the floor juddered beneath them. THERE, she said
complacently, and once again began to lose solidity.
The children, Brann shrieked at her, and Taguiloa.
Slya laughed, a high-pitched titter that cracked the walls. I LIKE YOU,
LITTLE NOTHING. I MAKE YOU A BARGAIN. I OFFER YOU TWO CHOICES, YOU CHOOSE
WHICH. EITHER I SEND THE CHILDREN HOME AND CHANGE YOU BACK AND FORGET ABOUT
THE DANCER AND HIS FOLK, LET THEM STRUGGLE TO SURVIVE HOW THEY WILL, OR I
PROTECT THE DANCER AND HIS FOLK FOR THE REST OF THEIR MAYFLY LIVES, TORCH
ANYONE WHO TRIES TO HARM THEM AND I FORGET ABOUT YOU AND THE CHILDREN. CHOOSE,
LITTLE NOTH-ING. WHICH WILL IT BE?
Brann looked from Taga to Linji, Harra, Negomas, to Yaril and Jaril crouching
at her feet. Looked deep in the crystal eyes, remembering Yaril hunched and
sad over the fire in the burnt-out storehouse when they were running from the
Temuengs on Croaldhu, remembering the close-ness they d shared, the times
they d rescued her, remem-bering also all the lives of men and beasts she d
taken to feed them, thinking of all the lives she d have to take for them if
they stayed. Looked again at Taga and the troupe, all of them in this mess
because of her. Her responsibility. She lifted her eyes to the mighty figure
rising high before her, writhing red hair brushing the ceiling lamps, a
pleased smile showing the tips of square red teeth. She said she d change me
back. I could go home. The desire to be again what she had been at the start
of summer, to be back among her folk, beginning her apprenticeship with her
father, that desire raged in her, shouted at her. Back with her father,
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learning his craft, struggling to make a thing as fine as the das n vuor pot
and its hundred bowls. Her father. She could see his calm brown eyes gazing at
her, affectionate, understanding, but implacable. She could hear him speaking
to her, saying see your actions through, Bramble-all-thorns, what you have
done you must answer for; I don t want to see you if you abandon your friends.
Sick and angry, she fisted her hands, forced her head up so she was staring
into the shallow red gaze of the god. Taguiloa, she cried; she wanted to
explain why, but she did not. That s my choice, let the children stay with
me, she finished and could say no more.
Slya laughed. Several lamps shattered and spilled their burning oil onto the
sluggishly stirring meslars and their companions. SO BE IT, LITTLE NOTHING.
YOU OUT THERE HEAR ME, ANY OF YOU CONTEMPLATING HARM TO THESE FOLK OF MINE. I
NAME THEM: TAGUILOA, HARRA HAZHANI, LINJIJIAN, NEGOMAS. SEE THEM. HEAR THIS
ALSO: CONTEMPLATE OR CAUSE HARM TO THEM AND YOU BURN. SO ...
She ran her red gaze over the Temuengs, stared a long moment at the Hand,
moved on to a magistrate trying to straighten his tangled robes. He had just
time to look up, startled, then he was a torch hot enough to melt the stone
beneath his feet, ash and cinders a second later in a puddle of congealing
stone.
Slya laughed. More lamps broke and a pillar cracked. She stretched her four
arms, yawned, melted into nothing.
Tungjii calmed the wailing child heesh held on hisser knee, set him down and
beckoned to Maratullik. Take your new emperor and serve him well, Hand. He s
your luck now, make the most of him. His fortunes and yours are paired. Heesh
grinned at the calm-faced Temueng. Enjoy yourself, web spinner.
Maratullik permitted himself a small tight smile, took the boy s hand and led
him away.
Tungjii rolled onto hisser feet, patted Taguiloa s head. You too, Taga.
Enjoy yourself. Over hisser shoulder, he called to Maratullik, Web spinner,
you better believe Slya means what she says. Heesh chuckled. She likes to
burn things, you know. The chuckle lingering behind himmer, heesh faded into
nothing.
Brann looked down at her charred palm already pink with new skin, then at the
space where Tungjii had been. That old fox. She glared at Taguiloa. I am so
damn tired of jerking through the sneaky plots of every damn god around. I am
so damn tired of being lied to and kicked around and having no idea what s
really going on. Haaah! Tungjii! [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
