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.He alone would unseal the portal that trapped his demon grandsire.For thedemon would be obligated to the opener.That must be no one but RadburnBlakely.But he could not do it until his magic returned.Nearly five months since Excalibur had backlashed his spell and negated hismagic.Five months and not a bit of his talent had returned.He felt so hollow, so empty.And this pig of a peasant presumed to dictate to him. You did not tell methis before! Fantome screamed.He jumped up from the rock where he perchedhis bottom.Radburn didn t rank a rock.He had to sit on the cold, dank ground. I do not have my books.I must search my memory long and hard for the spell. Books are but wasted tools.My family has never needed them.We remembereverything. Then why do you need me to remember the details of the spell? That earnedRadburn a solid blow behind his ear.He fell to the ground, nursing the hurt afew moments.Fantome resumed his seat until Radburn recovered enough to sit up. Sit upstraight and do not pick your nose.You must learn to act a gentleman as wellas a magician, Blakely admonished his former servant.The discussion of booksseemed to have ended. Magic now.Manners later! Fantome broke his drawing stick over his knee.Thewood crumbled to dust, sending out eldritch blue sparks.Radburn could seethat magic permeated Fantome s entire being, but the former servant didn thave the control or the knowledge of ritual that would give him control of hispower.He just might succeed in his quest before Radburn recovered his magic.That must not happen. I must have my books.I cannot remember every detail.  Books, bah! Fantomespat into the dirt. No one in my family has ever needed to read.If Granhadn t died early, taking her knowledge with her, IGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlwouldn t need you.We do not leave this cave until I have demon magic at myfingertips.  Then we will both rot here, Radburn murmured to himself.Thenlouder he lied,  I told you about the body parts.You did not listen. He ddeliberately left out key elements of every spell Fantome demanded he teach.The man was bright too bright for a peasant. You told me only about the noose, slave, Fantome sneered. I must punish youfor this crime against me! Fantome closed his fist.Radburn s slave collartightened about his throat.He gasped, clawing at the hateful iron.Chillinvaded his veins.Darkness crowded his vision.His lungs burned, and hisheartbeat too rapidly.Fantome s face blotched red.He slammed his right fist into his left.The ironPage 183ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlcollar tightened further threatening to sever Radburn s neck.He knew thistime he would die.Not yet, he pleaded with whatever powers might hear him.I m not ready.Ifthis man is turned loose on the world now, he will do more than wreak havoc.He will totally destroy England.The pressure of the collar on his windpipe lessened.Long after the collarreturned to its normal looseness, he continued to gasp and struggle for air.Just like the spell he had used on Lady Resmiranda, making her cough longafter he clenched his fist in her presence.And just like the spell he used onthe lady, his body weakened more with each use.If Fantome did not remove thecollar soon, Radburn would die of some other disease his body could no longerfend off.He drew his fingers inward until his palm bled from his ragged fingernails.In the back of his mind he heard a deep, bone-racking cough.Perhaps it was only the wind roaring through the cave.Perhaps it was more.His fight for air kept him from smiling.I waddled into the Hall on the Eve of the Nativity, the last of the crowdedhousehold to take a seat.As if they had all waited for my reluctant presence, the Lord of Misrule, thelowest of the scullery serfs, pounded his scepter on the high table. Let& letthe revels begin! he proclaimed in his harsh, lisping voice.His mother, thelaundress, had to prod him to get him to speak clearly. How may I serve you,Lord of Misrule? Robin Locksley, Earl of Huntington, bowed low to the youngman.He kept his expression bland.But a muscle twitched in his cheek to beliehis seriousness.half smiled, not really wanting to participate in the raucousmirth of the season, but truly entertained by the reversal of roles.The Lord of Misrule giggled.He swung his scepter a long stick topped with acloth jester s head; a mockery of the staff I had inherited from Aunt Lottaand Uncle Henry but which was now lost in his pudgy hands.His wide moon faceand pinched eyes shone with delight.On this day of the Feast of theNativity the lowest ruled the highest.Father Truman and I sat far below thesalt on this night of revelry; as did the rest of the family. I& I bid thee fetch me& The Lord of Misrule s mother whispered into her son s ear again. I bid theefetch me wine.Mulled wine.With lots of honey and spices! The boy drooled abit.He had a sweet tooth not that he had many teeth left.He was young tohave lost so many.Widsyth, the wandering minstrel who knew more of what transpired in Englandthan anyone, and his trioGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]