Archiwum
- Index
- Forgotten Realms Anthologies 03 Realms of Magic
- Bain, Darrell & Berry, Jeanine Gates 03 World of the Sex Gates
- Cooper McKenzie [Menage Amour 161 Club Esotera 03] Minding Mistress (pdf)
- Ian Rankin [Jack Harvey 03] Blood Hunt (v4.0) (pdf)
- Alan Dean Foster The Damned 03 The Spoils of War (v1.0) (Undead)
- Harry Turtledove War Between the Provinces 03 Advance and Retreat
- 791. Weston Sophie Weselne dzwony 03 Zakochany książę
- Krentz Jayne Ann Eclipse Bay 03 Koniec lata
- Greene Jennifer Zapach lawendy 03 Szalenstwo chwili
- The C Programming Language_1
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- lafemka.pev.pl
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oval windows, wider than any she had seen-one opposite her. Before the other
stood a desk. From the simple lines and the flow of the wood, Cigne saw it was
the work of a master crafter, just like the rest of the woodwork she could
see.
Even the grains of each plank in the wall between the twin off-planet
windows seemed identical. Her mental efforts to compare the planks intensified
the throbbing in her head. Cigne closed her eyes, still listening.
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She could feel the man moving away from her, although she could not hear
footsteps. When she eased her eyes back open, he was setting the old cup upon
the desk.
She shivered, despite the warmth of the coverlet. But she could feel her
eyes getting heavier.
The dwelling remained silent except for the moaning of the ten month
winds.
LXIII
THE WOMAN SAT on one side of the narrow drop table and picked up the empty cup
one more time, studying the webwork of lines underneath the porcelain-smooth
glaze. A simple cup, heavy, with a handle ample for a man, finished in a
uniform off-gray. On one half was a golden diamond, faded. On the other was a
stylized spruce tree, green and brown.
When she studied the two designs closely, she could see precise brush
strokes, finely done under the heavy and clear glaze. Both the cup and the two
designs were unique in small ways, almost in the feel of the cup and the sense
of the designs. Both the object and its decoration had been produced by a
skilled hand.
Cigne shook her head. The man who had rescued her from the ten month
wind and storms, winds and storms which still were striking the surrounding
hills periodically, had produced both house and cup. Or so he had said.
If he had, he was extraordinarily skilled. If he had not, he was rich,
or a thief, or both.
Gregùthat was the name he had offered. But she had refused to use it. So
far she had avoided any form of address.
Click.
Cigne kept her eyes on the cup as he walked to the other side of the
table.
"Feeling better?"
She nodded, but did not meet his eyes. The old legends had been
dismissed by most, but she remembered to be wary about "the old man of the
hills" with the demon-yellow eyes. Still, he had been nothing but gentle when
easily he could have taken advantage of her.
He had not pressed when she had refused to discuss why she had been out
in the storm or from whom or what she had fled.
In turn, she had not pressed him on how he could so easily dare the
gusts that felled bigger men.
"Still don't want to go back?" He waited for her answer.
This time, this time, she shook her head.
"What about Denv?"
"I have no money. No goods. No trade. Besides . . . a woman who cannot .
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. . without . . ." She stopped and looked up to see his reac-tion, but the
smooth face with the near-elfin face remained impassive.
Finally, he spoke slowly.
"Forget money. Never a real barrier. Nor goods. You know enough."
Her chin moved as if to nod, but she halted the movement almost before
it started.
"Real problem elsewhere."
She did not have to nod.
"No children?"
She looked down at the smooth inlays of the table, taking refuge in the
abstract design of the dark and the light wood. Wondering how he had been able
to set such intricate and curving strips of hardwood within the boundaries,
and to match the repeating patterns so identically time after time.
"He blames you."
Cigne could not trust her voice and continued to study the inlaid
pattern of the table.
"Wondered about the bruises. Figures. Need population. Fewer children,
but no recognition yet. Macho types. So far."
His laugh, while gentle, was mirthless, and chilling, as if he
understood something that no one else could possibly see.
Both his words and laugh had not been addressed to her, and she did not
answer. Not that she had understood all that he had said, but the tone had
been clear. He had not sounded pleased.
Cigne shivered.
Although "Greg" had not raised his voice around her, she could not
forget how he had carried her through the winds that had staggered and stopped
Aldoff, those winds that the strongest of the hill runners feared. She
recalled the unyielding strength of his arms, a strength that made Aldoff seem
childlike, and she reflected on his speed and the silent way he moved, so
quickly he seemed not to cast a shadow.
"Money and a childùwhat a good widow needs . . . ," he mused.
Cigne frowned, but looked up at the amused sound in his voice. He stood
between the table and the nearer portal window.
As she glanced toward him, his eyes caught hers, and she was afraid to
look away.
"Do you really want your heart's desire, lady?"
Cigne looked down at the table, afraid to answer, afraid not to.
"Be careful with wishes, lady. Certain you will never return?"
"I am sure. I will never go back."
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"Suppose not. Not if you were willing to try the spout winds." He turned
halfway toward the oval transparency before his desk. "And the other makes
sense. Especially if you could get to Denv. Not that it would be a problem."
"Denv? Not a problem? It is kays and kays away."
"No problem."
He sat down in the strange leaning chair by his desk and pulled off the
light black boots.
"Listen for a time, lady. Just listen."
The lilt in his voice seemed more pronounced, and she looked toward him,
but he was gazing into the window.
"Listen?" she asked.
"Just listen." He turned back toward her, but she would not meet his
eyes and stared at the dark spruces in the afternoon light.
"A long time ago, in a place like this, the people were dying, for each
year they had less food, and each year there were fewer of them. The winter
lasted into the summer and the summer was cold and short and filled with
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