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Diana Palmer & Jan Colley & Wen To Wear His Ring (epub)
Brian Andrews [Calypso Direct Ring of Flowers (epub)
Chapman, Janet Pine Creek Hig Der Ring des Highlanders
Bradford, Chris Samurai 04 Der Ring der Erde
Bradford, Chris Samurai 07 Der Ring des Windes
Baxter, Stephen Xeelee Zyklus Ring
[Le Couteau Du Partage 01] Enso Lois McMaster Bujold
Bujold, Lois McMaster Barraya Lustrzany Taniec
Bujold McMaster Lois Barrayar Uczen wojownika
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.He spread his fingers against the discoloration and closed his eyes.The babble of his thoughts faded into an inarticulate silence, at one with the silence of the stone.He was the stone.He could feel the stringer of ore, like a tendon running through his body.Thinning ten feet in, dwindling.and yet, a few feet farther on, like a swordstroke slanting down: a rich vein, native copper glorying along like a bright frozen river, crying for the light that it might shine.“The metal calls me,” Thur whispered to himself.“I can feel it.I can.”But who would believe him? And how did these visions come? Or were they devil-dreams, false lures? Stussi the tanner had babbled of visions in a fever once, then a long worm had slithered out of his nose, and he'd died.Thur's vision throbbed with a pulse of danger, maddeningly vague, melting away the moment his emptiness was clouded with the very question, What.? His hands clenched, on the stone.A flicker in the corner of his eye—lamp going out? Or Farel returning? He sprang away from the rock, flushing.But there was no tramp of boots, and the lamp burned no more badly than usual.There.A shadow in the wavering shadows—that funny-shaped rock moved.Thur stood still, barely breathing.The rock stood up.It was a gnarled brown mannikin, some two feet tall, with what seemed to be a leather apron like a miner's about its loins.It giggled, and jumped to one side.Its black eyes glinted in the lamp glow like polished stones.It skipped over to Thur's basket, and made to put in a lump of ore.Thur made no sudden moves.In all his time in the mines, he'd never seen a gnome so close and clear, only movements in the corners of his eyes that seemed to vanish into the walk when he made to approach them.The mannikin giggled again, and tilted its narrow chin aside in an attitude of comical inquiry.“Good morrow, little man,” Thur whispered, fascinated, hoping his voice would not startle it away again.“Good morrow, metal-master,” the kobold returned in a tinny voice.It hopped into the basket, peered over the top at Thur, and hopped out again, in quick jerky motions.Its arms and legs were thin, its toes and fingers long and splayed, with joints like the knobs of roots.“I'm no master.” Thur smiled.He hunkered down, so as to loom less threateningly, and fumbled at his belt for the leather flask his mother had filled with goat's milk before dawn.Carefully, he reached for the ateau, the wide wooden dish used for carrying out the best ore, tapped it upside down to knock out the dirt, and poured some milk into it.He shoved it invitingly toward the little creature.“You can drink.If you wish.”It giggled again, and hopped to the rim.It did not lift the vessel, but put its head down and lapped like a cat, pointed tongue flicking rapidly in and out.Its bright eyes never wavered from Thur as it drank.The milk vanished quickly.The kobold sat up, emitted a tiny but quite distinct belch, and wiped its lips with the back of one twiggy wrist.“Good!“My mother fixes it, in case I thirst before dinner,” Thur responded automatically, then felt a little idiotic.Surely he should be trying to catch the creature, not conversing with it.Squeeze it to get it to tell him where gold or silver lay, or something.Yet its wrinkled countenance, like a dried apple, made it seem venerable, not evil or menacing.It sidled toward Thur.He tensed.Slowly, one cool knobby finger reached out and touched Thur's wrist.I should seize it now.But he couldn't, didn't want, to move.The kobold jittered across the stones, and rubbed up against the discolored vein in the rock.It oozed, seeming to melt—It's getting away!“Master Kobold,” Thur croaked desperately, “tell me, where shall I find my treasure?”The kobold paused.Its half-lidded eyes stared directly at Thur.Its answer was a creaky chant, like the overstrained wood of a windlass lifting a heavy load.“Air and fire, metal-master, air and fire.You are earth and water.Go to the fire.Ice water will put you out.Cold earth will stop your mouth.Cold earth is good for kobolds, not for metal-masters.Grave digger, grave digger, go to the fire, and live.”It melted into the vein, leaving only a fading giggle behind.Riddles [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]