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Fraina s fingernails raked blood from Ivar s cheek.  You starting a riot? she shrilled. A
Haisun call followed.
Rivermen tried to push close. Men of the Train tried to deflect them, disperse them. Oaths
and shouts lifted. Scuffles broke loose.
Mikkal of Redtop slithered through the mob, bounded toward the fight. His belt was full of
daggers.  ll-krozny ya? he barked.
Fraina pointed at Ivar, who was backing her escort against a wagon.  Vakhabo! And in
loud Anglic:  Kill me that dog! He hit me-your sister!
Mikkal s arm moved. A blade glittered past Ivar s ear, to thunk into a panel and shiver.
 Stop where you re at, the Tineran said.  Drop your slash. Or you re dead.
Ivar turned from an enemy who no longer mattered. Grief ripped through him.  But
you re my friend, he pleaded.
The villager struck him on the neck, kicked him when he had tumbled. Fraina warbled
glee, leaped to take the fellow s elbow, crooned of his prowess. Mikkal tossed knife after knife
aloft, made a wheel of them, belled when he had the crowd s attention:  Peace! Peace! We
don t want this stranger. We cast him out. You care to jail him? Fine, go ahead. Let s the rest
of us get on with our fun.
Ivar sat up. He barely noticed the aches where he had been hit, Fraina, Waybreak were
lost to him. He could no more understand why than he could have understood it if he had
suddenly had a heart attack.
But a wanderer s aliveness remained. He saw booted legs close in, and knew the watch was
about to haul him off. It jagged across his awareness that then the Imperials might well see a
report on him.
His weapon lay on the ground. He snatched it and sprang erect. A war-whoop tore his
throat.  Out of my way! he yelled after, and started into the ring of men. If need be, he d cut
a road through.
Wings cannonaded, made gusts of air, eclipsed the lamps. Erannath was aloft.
Six meters of span roofed the throng in quills and racket. What light came through shone
burnished on those feathers, those talons. Unarmed though he was, humans ducked away
from scything claws, lurched from buffeting wingbones.  Hither! Erannath whistled.  To
me, Rolf Mariner! Raiharo!
Ivar sprang through the lane opened for him, out past tents and demon-covered wagons,
into night. The aquiline shape glided low above, black athwart the Milky Way.  Head south,
hissed in darkness.  Keep near the riverbank. The Ythrian swung by, returned for a second
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pass.  I will fly elsewhere, in their view, draw off pursuit, soon shake it and join you. On the
third swoop:  Later I will go to the ship which has left, and arrange passage for us. Fair
winds follow you. He banked and was gone.
Ivar s body settled into a lope over the fields. The rest of him knew only: Fraina.
Waybreak. Forever gone? Then what s to live for?
Nevertheless he fled.
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XI
After a boat, guided by Erannath, brought him aboard the Jade Gate, Ivar fell into a bunk
and a twisting, nightmare-haunted sleep. He was almost glad when a gong-crash roused him a
few hours later.
He was alone in a cabin meant for four, cramped but pleasant. Hardwood deck, white-
painted overhead, bulkheads lacquered in red and black, were surgically clean. Light came
dimly through a brass-framed window to pick out a dresser and washbowl. Foot-thuds and
voices made a cheerful clamor beneath the toning of the bronze. He didn t know that rapid,
musical language.
I suppose I ought to go see whatever this is, he thought, somewhere in the sorrow of what
he had lost. It took his entire will to put clothes on and step out the door.
Crewfolk were bouncing everywhere around. A young man noticed him, beamed, and said,
 Ahoa to you, welcome passenger, in the singsong River dialect of Anglic.
 What s happenin ? Ivar asked mechanically.
 We say good morning to the sun. Watch, but please to stand quiet where you are.
He obeyed. The pre-dawn chill lashed some alertness into him and he observed his
surroundings with a faint growth of interest.
Heaven was still full of stars, but eastward turning wan. The shores, a kilometer from
either side of the vessel, were low blue shadows, while the water gleamed as if burnished,
except where mist went eddying. High overhead, the wings of a vulch at hover caught the first
daylight. As gong and crew fell silent, an utter hush returned, not really broken by the faint
pulse of engines.
The craft was more than 50 meters in length and 20 in the beam, her timber sides high
even at the waist, then at the blunt bow rising sharply in two tiers, three at the rounded stern.
Two sizable deckhouses bracketed the amidships section, their roofs fancifully curved at the
ends. Fore and aft of them, kingposts supported cargo booms, as well as windmills to help
charge the capacitors which powered the vessel. Between reared a mast which could be set
with three square sails. Ivar glimpsed Erannath on the topmost yard. He must have spent the
night there, for lack of the frame which would suit him better than a bunk.
An outsize red-and-gold flag drooped from an after staff. At the prow the gigantic image of
a Fortune Guardian scowled at dangers ahead. In his left hand he bore a sword against them,
in his right a lotus flower.
There posed an old man in robe and tasseled cap, beside him a woman similarly clad
though bareheaded, near them a band who wielded gong, flutes, pipas, and drum. The crew,
on their knees save for what small children were held by their mothers, occupied the decks
beneath.
As light strengthened, the stillness seemed to deepen yet further, and frost on brightwork
glittered like the stars.
Then Virgil stood out of the east. Radiance shivered across waters. The ancient raised his
arms and cried a brief chant, the people responded, music rollicked, everybody cheered, the
ship s business resumed.
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Ivar stretched numbed hands toward the warmth that began to flow out of indigo air.
Vapors steamed away and he saw the cultivated lands roll green, a flock of beasts, an early
horseman or a roadborne vehicle, turned into toys by distance. Closer were the brood of Jade
Gate. A stubby tug drew a freight-laden barge, two trawlers spread their nets, and in several
kayaks, each accompanied by an osel, herders kept a pod of river pigs moving along.
For those not on watch, the first order of the day was evidently to get cleaned up. Some
went below, some peeled off their clothes and dived overboard, to frisk about till they were
ready to climb back on a Jacob s ladder. Merriment loudened. It was not like Tineran glee.
Such japes as he heard in Anglic were gentle rather than stinging, laughter was more a deep
clucking than a shrill peal. Whoever passed near Ivar stopped to make a slight bow and bid
him welcome aboard.
They re civilized without bein rigid, strong without bein cruel, happy without bein
foolish, shrewd without bein crooked, respectful of learnin and law, useful in their work, he
knew dully; but they are not wild red wanderers.
Handsome enough, of course. They averaged a bit taller than Tinerians, shorter than
nords, the build stocky, skin tawny, hair deep black where age had not bleached it. Heads [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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