Archiwum
- Index
- Alan Burt Akers [Dray Prescot 21] A Fortune for Kregen (pdf)
- Animorphs 21 The Threat
- Anthony, Piers Tarot 01 God of Tarot
- Joyce Meyer 100 sposobow na proste zycie
- KSIAZKI ZAKAZANE PROTOKOśÂY OBRAD MćÂDRCÄÂW SYONU
- Rej MikośÂaj śąywot czśÂowieka poczciwego
- Dianne Robins The Hollow Earth And Underground Cities
- Savannah Davis Highland Warrior Samantha und William
- Koniec dziecinstwa
- Bednarska Agnieszka Emigracja uczuć Emigracja uczuć tom 1
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- stemplofil.keep.pl
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
was possible for their souls to take physical form on that scale. That was a relief, because he wasn't at all
comfortable as a nebulous blob that had to form an eyeball just to see anything.
He tried to slow, but it didn't work. He was plunging faster than ever. "How do I do it?"
"Just form into a wide, flat shape, like a leaf or feather. Then the air will catch you, and you'll drift
down."
He tried that, but was still falling uncomfortably fast. "It's not working very well."
"Oh, I forgot: you have a whole soul. It's twice as dense as my half soul. So you are twice as heavy. See
if you can form into a parachute."
"What kind of a parrot?"
"Like this." She became a kind of upside-down cup, with strings leading down to a lump of herself
below. "It's a Mundane concept. The canopy catches the air, and the blob guides it down."
He emulated her form, and it began to work. His broad cloth-like upper section caught the air, and
dragged, and slowed the descent of the compact lower part of him. Even so, they were coming down a
good deal faster than he liked. He expanded his mantle, but before it was able to do much good, he
plunged into the blue sea near the white coast of the green land.
He descended way down below the surface of the water. He held his breath and spread his hands, trying
to swim toward the surface. Then he heard Imbri: "Be a fish!"
Oh. He formed into a fish, and then he had no problem. She formed into a sea horse beside him. "Swim
to land. I must tell Ida that we are safely here."
"But-" But she was already gone.
So he strengthened his tall and fins and swam as strongly as he could toward land. He hoped there
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weren't any sea-monsters here, because one of them could gobble him up. Though probably he could
change into something else, like a stink horn, and get away.
He saw the sand of the bottom rising beneath him. The water was getting shallow; he was nearing the
beach. He was glad; this business of shifting shapes did not come naturally to him, though he supposed
it could be fun if he learned it well enough.
The water became too shallow to swim in. Now what should he do? Try to become a flatter fish? But it
would keep on getting shallower, until no amount of flatness would work.
Then he laughed at his own stupidity. He was there! He was at the shore. He no longer needed to be a
fish. He could assume his own shape.
He did so. In a moment he was standing ankle deep in the surf, complete with his knapsack. His
knapsack? How had he managed to bring that along'? He reached into it, and found everything there,
including the stoppered spell bottle and his spare pair of sandals. Apparently his soul was equipped with
whatever his body had. That was reassuring.
Something plunged down to splash in the water behind him. Then the figure of a horse appeared. "I have
told her," Mare Imbri said. "Now we are safely on Ptero, and can go about your mission."
"Great," he said. "And exactly how do we do that?"
"I have no idea."
Forrest gazed at the beach ahead of them. This was indeed going to be a challenge.
They waded the rest of the way out of the water and stood on the shore. Forrest splashed, while Imbri's
feet moved through the water splashlessly. The beach was a pretty white ribbon of sand, curving around
so as to stay between the water and the land with remarkable precision. The air was comfortably warm.
Forrest mulled over what Imbri had said. "If you have no idea what to do, and I have no idea, how are
we going to do it?"
"Maybe we can ask someone."
Something was bothering him slightly, and he managed to figure out what it was. "When you talk, your
mouth doesn't move."
"That's because mares can't talk well with their mouths. They can only neigh. So I talk in your head, in
dreamlets."
"But now I'm using my mouth to talk to you. I can hear the sound."
"That's because you are physical."
"Physical? But only my soul came here."
"The soul has a very small amount of substance. Just enough to make a solid body here, where
everything is very small. So you have naturally assumed your regular form, complete with sandals and
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knapsack."
"And you have assumed yours," he said, catching on. "But you look a bit hazy."
"That's because I have only half a soul, while my mare body is several times as massive as your faun
body. So I have less than a tenth of your solidity. If you touch me, your hand will pass through me."
"It will?" He reached out to pat her shoulder-and his hand sank into her body with only faint resistance.
He snatched it out. "Sorry."
She shrugged her shoulders, an interesting maneuver. "It doesn't hurt. As long as you can see me and
hear me, it's all right."
"I wonder-if you don't mind-could you become all the way solid, here? If you assumed a smaller form?
So you could use your mouth to speak?"
"Certainly, if you prefer." She shrank, becoming a small human woman or girl, in a close black dress.
"Will this do?" she asked, using her mouth. "I have only about half your mass, so I can't be any larger
without diffusing."
"That's fine. You look great." He meant that her form was satisfactory in the solid sense, but actually it
was more than satisfactory. She looked just like a rather pretty girl, or a nymph, with lustrous black hair.
Except for the slightly equine set of her nose, which was understandable. She was, after all, a type of
horse.
Imbri took a step-and tripped, falling on her face. "Neigh!" she exclaimed, chagrined. "I'm not used to
being physical."
Forrest realized that that made sense. She had been a half soul, seemingly without substance, for thirty
years, and when she had been a night mare before that, she had had four feet. She wasn't used to
handling a real human body. "My fault," he said. "Maybe you had better return to mare form."
"But I don't want to make you feel awkward because I don't talk with my mouth," she said. "I'm sure I
can learn to handle this form, if I concentrate."
But she had a scratch on her cheek, from a shell on the beach. That made him feel guilty. "I would rather
feel awkward, than have you falling and scratching your face."
She looked alarmed. "Oh! Did I do that?"
He dug into his knapsack and pulled out a mirror. He gave it to her, and she held it up so she could see
her face. "I did! Oh, that's embarrassing." She brushed her fingers across the scratch, wiping it out, so
that her face was smooth again. That surprised him, but he realized that since she had shaped the body to
begin with, she could readily re-shape it to eliminate an imperfection. Like most females, she was
sensitive about her appearance, even in a form that was unnatural for her.
She returned the mirror, and he put it back into the knapsack. It banged into something, and he realized
that it was his spare pair of sandals. That gave him an idea. "You can wear my other sandals! They'll
protect you from tripping!" He dug them out and offered them to her.
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"They will?" She looked dubious.
"Yes. They are magic. They protect the feet. They won't let you misstep."
"But those are faun sandals. I'm having enough trouble balancing on these human feet; I don't think I
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