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.Denis dreamed that she who he had known as the Lady Sophie had come to visit him in his room beside the workshop.She sat on his cot there and smiled, and held his hand, and thanked him for something he had done, or was perhaps about to do.Her white robe was in disarray, hanging open, but incredibly she seemed not to notice.The dream was just approaching its moment of greatest tension, when Denis awoke.He lay in warm moonlight, with the sense that the world to which he had awakened was only a perfected dream.file:///G|/rah/Fred%20Saberhagen/Fred%20Sab.%20-%20The%20Third%20Book%20Of%20Swords.txt (66 of 171) [2/5/2004 12:22:42 AM]file:///G|/rah/Fred%20Saberhagen/Fred%20Saberhagen%20-%20Swords%2003%20-%20The%20Third%20Book%20Of%20Swords.txtThere was a scent in the air--0f riverside flowers?-incredibly sweet and beautiful, too subtle to be called perfume.Page 56ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlAnd there was in the air also-something else.A fearless excitement.Denis's blood throbbed with oneiric anticipation, of he knew not what.Yet he knew that he was wide awake.He looked along the river, his gaze caught by the path of reflected moonlight.He saw a shadow, as of some drifting boat, enter upon that path.It was some kind of craft-a barge, he thought-speckled with its own small lights, and moving in perfect silence.Almost perfect.A moment more, and Denis could hear the gentle splash and drip of oars.As the barge drew closer, he could see that it was larger than he had thought at first, so large that he wondered how it managed to navigate the narrower places in this small river.The lights along its low sides were softly glowing amber lamps, as steady as theOld World light that Denis was familiar with, but vastly subtler.Denis was on his feet now.He still had no doubts that he was awake, and he was conscious of beingmore or less-his ordinary self.Whatever was happening to him now was real, but he had no sense of danger, only of thrilling promise.He moved a step closer to the bank, the water murmuring like lovers'laughter at his feet.He stood there leaning on the upended bottom of the canoe that he had prudently pulled out of the river before retiring.As the barge drew closer still, Denis could see that it bore amidships a small house or pavilion, covered by an awning of some fine cloth.Just forward of this there was a throne-like chair or lounge, all centered between two rows of strangely silent and briefly costumed young women rowers.A woman was reclining upon the lounge, in the middle of.a mass of pillows.With only the Moon behind her, and the dim lamps on her boat, Denis could see her at first only by hints and outlines.At first his heated imagination assured him that she was wearing nothing at all.But presently his eyes were forced to admit the fact of a garment, more shimmering mist and starlight, it seemed, than any kind of cloth.Most of the woman's body was enclosed by this veil, though scarcely any of it was concealed.Denis's heart lurched within him, and he understood.A name sprang into his mind, and he might have spoken it aloud, but just at that moment he lacked the breath to say anything at all.He had never seen a god or goddess in his life before, and had never really expected to see one before he died.In response to some command unseen and unheard by Denis, the inhumanly silent rowers stopped, in unison.He was vaguely aware, even without looking directly at them for a moment, of how comely they all were, and how provocatively dressed.With theGoddess of Love herself before his eyes, he could not have looked at any of them if he had tried.The barge, under a control that had to be more than file:///G|/rah/Fred%20Saberhagen/Fred%20Sab.%20-%20The%20Third%20Book%20Of%20Swords.txt (67 of 171) [2/5/2004 12:22:42 AM]file:///G|/rah/Fred%20Saberhagen/Fred%20Saberhagen%20-%20Swords%2003%20-%20The%20Third%20Book%20Of%20Swords.txt natural, came drifting very slowly and precisely toward Denis on the island.From inside the cabin-he thought-there came a strain of music, lovely as the perfume, to waft across the small width of water that remained.Every note was framed in perfect silence now that the silvery trickle from the oars had stopped.With an undulating movement Aphrodite rose from her couch, to stand in a pose of unstrained grace."Young man?" she called to Denis softly.The voice of the goddess was everything that her appearance had suggested it might be."I must speak with you."Denis started toward her and stumbled.He discovered that it was necessary to make his way around some large and unfamiliar object-oh yes, it was his canoe-that somehow happened to be right in his path.Page 57ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html"Lady," he choked out, "I am yours to command.What would you have of me?" At this point he became aware that he had just fallen on his knees with a loud squelching sound, right in the riverside mud.This would not have mattered in the least, except that it might tend to make the goddess think that he was clumsy; and when he got up, she was sure to see how muddy his white robes had got, and he feared that she might laugh.So far, thank all the gods and goddesses, she was not laughing at him."Young man," said Aphrodite, "I know that you are carrying two Swords with you.I understand that one of them is the one that heals.And the other.well, I forget at the moment what they told me about the other.But that doesn't matter just now.Iwant you to hand both of them over to me at once.If you are quick enough about it I will perhaps allow you to kiss me." The goddess paused for just a moment, and gave Denis a tiny smile."Who knows what I might allow, on such a romantic night as this?""Kiss me," Denis echoed vacantly
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Tematy
IndexL Frank Baum Oz 15 The Royal Book of Oz
Maryjanice Davidson Fred The Merma
Industrial Magic Women of the Otherworld Book 4 Kelley Armstrong
Chosen of Nendawen Book 1 The Forgotten Realms
Stephen King Book of the Dead
Fred Saberhagen Berserker 10 Berserker Throne
Fred Saberhagen Berserker 07 Berserker Blue Death
wyscig z czasem may k.
Savater Fernando Dziennik Hioba (Uuk) black
Schulman Helen Postscriptum