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.Taen looked up.At her side stood a leather-dad forester, streaked blackhair tumbled over his shoulders.His face had weathered into permanent lines of patience, but his eyes were light, intent,and fierce as a hawk's.Slammed by recognition, Taen felt words stop in her throat.She knew this man.Herestood the forester who had remade Jaric's self-reliance, a process the Dreamweaver hadshared through a winter in close rapport.The shock of meeting Telemark in the fleshoverwhelmed her.Desperately she longed to speak of Jaric, to unburden her concern uponthe forester's staunch sympathy.But to reveal Ivainson's trial in the grove of the Vaere tothis man would shatter a peace of mind so deep that the notion itself was a cruelty.Miserably, Taen kept her silence.'Lady?' Strong fingers supported her shoulder.'Are you ill? Do you need help?'The touch was sure, familiar to the point of heartbreak; for thus had Telemark steadiedJaric through a period of painful convalescence.Taen bit back an urge to weep arid foundherself overcome.Her mind sought after Jaric in a rush of uncontrollable need.Power surged inside her, far too cataclysmic to bridle.Without warning, her awarenessexploded across space and time.After months of empty silence, Taen achieved contactwith Jaric's consciousness.Flame raged across the link, blistering flesh with pain that had no voice and no outlet;feeding on nerve and muscle and bone, Sathid-born hatred consumed the living body ofthe man who suffered the Cycle of Fire.In agony, Jaric resisted.Torment stripped awayhis humanity, left nothing but instinct to survive.He recognized no presence beyond theenemy, and the reflexive vehemence of his defence flung the Dreamweaver's contactoutward into darkness.aaTTnnssFFffooDDrrPPmmYYeeYYrrBB22.BBAAClick here to buyClick here to buywwmmwwoowwcc.AAYYBBYYBBr rReality returned with a disorienting jerk.Restored to the bustle of Corlin market, Taenfound herself weeping in the sturdy arms of the forester.Telemark shifted his grip, his trap-scarred knuckles warm through the folds of her cloak.'Girl, are you ill?''No.' His shirt smelled of balsam and woodsmoke, just as Jaric remembered.Bravely Taencomposed herself.'I'm sorry.By accident you reminded me of someone I know and love.'She disentangled herself from Telemark's embrace, then fled before he could question herfurther.The crowd hid her from view; but for a long while afterwards Taen sensed theforester staring after her with a frown of puzzled concern.By early afternoon the boatswain and his three henchmen had driven a milling mass ofhorses out of Corlin market.They made rendezvous with Corley and the main companyfrom the ships just beyond the gates.Between the shouting and the sorting of mounts andmen, Taen's silence passed unnoticed; numbed by Jaric's predicament, she mounted withlittle of the trepidation that riding usually inspired.Beside her, the boatswain reported tohis captain.City gossip had included no mention of Maelgrim's blighted dreams, yet the lack of newswas no basis for encouragement.With roads still mired with snow-melt, word would travelslowly until caravans resumed trade to the north.'The High Earl was imprisoned for heresy, though.' The boatswain stowed his bulk withsurprising grace in the saddle of a rangy chestnut.'Oh?' Corley chose a grey that nipped at his seat as he turned to mount.Unperturbed, heslapped its muzzle and vaulted astride.'When did that happen?''Summer before last.' The boatswain spat.'Kor's brotherhood governs Morbrith in theEarl's stead.Farmers griped over the tax shares.Claimed that bloodysimpering initiates counted the oats in the sheep pats to pad out their tallies.'Corley grinned, settling easy as the grey sidled beneath his weight.'Fires.I wouldn't havewanted to be the man in charge of inspecting the grain tax, then.'The boatswain howled with laughter.'Farmers would've bagged sheep leavings, surely.Butthey dared not, unless they wanted to see their Earl staked out for the fire.'Corley looked thoughtful for a moment.Then he summed up his opinion of priests in anepithet, and motioned his company forward.The last men mounted, and with startlingspeed the stamping, snorting mass of beasts sorted out into columns.Taen reined hermare in behind the lead company of men at arms.She did not join in the laughter as thesailors' contempt of the saddle found expression in a spate of coarse jokes [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]