C .J. Cherryh [The Morgaine Sag

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.Yet however she had come, she was at least half- qujal, eyes and hair bore witness to that: she was qujal and soulless and well at home in this blighted place of dead trees and snow."I know a place," she said, "where the wind does not reach.Come."She turned the gray's head toward the south, as he had been headed, so that he did not know where else to go.He went as in a dream.Dusk was gathering, hurried on by the veil of cloud that was rolling across the sky.The wraithlike pallor of Morgaine drifted before him, but the gray's hooves cracked substantially into the crusted snow, leaving tracks.They rounded the turning of the hill and startled a small band of deer that fed upon howan by the streamside.It was the first game he had seen in days.Despite his circumstance, he reached for his bow.15Gate of IvrelBefore he could string it, a light blazed from Morgaine's outstretched hand and a buck fell dead.The others scattered.Morgaine pointed to the hillside on their right."There is a cave for shelter.I have used it before.Take what venison we need: the rest is due smaller hunters."She rode away upon the slope.He took his skinning-knife and prepared to do her bidding, though he liked it little.He found no wound upon the body, only a little blood from its nostrils to spot the snow, and all at once the red on the snow brought back the dream, and made him shiver.He had no stomach for a thing killed in such a way, and the wide-eyed horned head seemed as spellbound as he— unwilling dreamer too.He glanced over his shoulder.Morgaine stood upon the shoulder of the hill holding the gray's reins, watching him.The first flakes of snow drifted across the wind.He set his knife to the carcass and did not look it in the eye.16Gate of IvrelChapter 2A fire blazed in the shallow cave's mouth, putting a wall of warmth between them and the driving snow.He did not want the meat, but he was many days weak with hunger, so that his joints ached and the least exertion put a tremor in his muscles.He must sit and smell it cooking, and when she had cooked and offered a bit to him, it looked no different than other meat, and smelled so achingly good that his empty belly ruled his other scruples.A man would not lose his soul for a little bit of venison, however the beast had been slain.The night was beyond.Occasional snowflakes pelted past the barrier of the fire's heat, driven on a fierce gust.Outside, the horses, witch-horse and ordinary bay, stood together against the unfriendly wind; and when hot venison had taken the shaking from Vanye's limbs and put strength into him, he took a portion of what grain he had left and went outside, fed half to each.The gray— of that famous breed of Baien, so men sang— nuzzled his hands as eagerly and warmly as his own little mare.His heart was touched by the beauty of the gray stud.For the moment he forgot the evil and smoothed the pale mane and gazed into the great pale-lashed eyes and thought (for the Nhi were breeders of good horses) that he would much covet the get of that fine animal, in any herd: they were the breed of the lost High Kings of Andur, those great gray horses.But there were no more High Kings, only the lords of clans; and the breed had passed as the glories of Andur had passed.Now of great kings there remained only the Hjemur-lord, far different than the brave bright kings of golden Koris-sith and Baien, that breed of men apart from clans, and greater.An older thing, a darker thing had stirred to life when the Hjemur-lord arose, and more than an army had gone down to die in Irien.With that thought he shivered in the ice-edged wind and returned to the fire, to the center of all things unnatural in the night, where Morgaine sat wrapped in her snowy furs, beside her horse's gear and the dragon-blade glittering in its plain sheath.The silence between them had been as deep as that between old friends.17Gate of IvrelThe wind whirled snow through the cave's mouth.It was a great storm [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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