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.But Idon t think we ought to wait to take the talisman on the last night before weleave.If she notices it s gone, she ll hit the outgoers hard. And the stayers just as hard, be sure of that. Page 168 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html Well. He turned onto his back, lay staring up at the cobwebs under theroof. Damned if we do, damned if we don t.Maybe we should just toss a coinand let old Tungjii decide.Heads, early.Tails, late. Why not.Now? No.Wait till I find the thing, Bramble.Till I know. 5Brann sat on the bed, a blanket wrapped about her, chasing biters away fromher face and arms with a reed whisk; the Wounded Moon was down, butthe darkness was broken by stars glittering diamond-hard diamond-brightthrough the thin, high-desert air.She shivered and pulled theblankets tighter; that air was chill and dank here in the marsh; a curdledmist clung to the reed clumps and the floorposts of the cell; tendrils of mistdrifted through the windowholes and melted in the heat from the banked peatfire in the mud stove.Outside, the big orange grasshoppers the marshfolkcalled jaspars had already begun their pre-dawn creakings and a sleepymashimurgh was practicing its song.There was almost no wind; the stillnesswas eerie, frightening, as if the marsh and the Rock and even the air werewaiting with her for something to happen, something terrible.What ananticlimax, she thought, if Jay comes sliding in and says he hasn t foundthe thing.I don t know how I could get through another night of waiting.Slya! I hate feeling so helpless.It should be me in there, notmy baby, my nursling.She contemplated herself and laughed si-lently atwhat she saw.She was nervous about Jaril, but mostly she was irritatedbecause she had no part to play in this, she was baggage.It was harder thanshe d thought to reconcile herself to being baggage.A large horned owl came through a windowhole, snapped out its wings and landedneatly on the reed mat.As soon as its talons touched, it changed to Jaril.Hedropped onto the second cot and grinned at her. Well? Brann scowled at him. Did you or didn t you? Did. Giftroom? No, I was wrong about that.It was in a storeroom, the kind where they throwbroken things and whatever they don t think has much value. A Great Talisman in a junk room? What it looks like, Bramble.Dust everywhere, broken everything, cheaptrinkets, the kind your sailor friends bought their whores when they hitport.Wornout mats rolled up, cushions with the stuffing leaking out.And theold frog looking right at home sitting up on a shelf smothered in gray dust.Maybe it s been there since the Sihbaraburj was built. He crossed his legs,rubbed his thumb over and over his ankle. Funny, I d ve never gone in there,but a Servant came along the corridor I was in and I thoughtI d better duck.There was a door handy; it was locked so I oozed in and whileI was waiting I took a, look round.I was being firesphere so I wouldn t leave footprints or othermarks in case someone came in there hunting something.I about went nova whenI saw the thing way up on the top shelf, pushed into a corner and like I saidcovered with dust.I managed to ride the blow out, I don t know how.1 nosedabout some more, there was no sign Amortis was around and I ve got pretty goodat spotting gods.Iguess we sit it out the next six days. Can you? Oh yes.Um, I should get all the sun I can. Morning be enough? Unless it s raining. We ve got to go to the Temple.Hmm.We went up mid-afternoon today, I supposethat could be enough prece-dent.You need to be outside? No.Your bed gets the morning sun, enough anyway, we can trade and if anyonecomes snooping IPage 169 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmljust pull a blanket over me and pretend to be asleep. Good enough. Brann yawned. Let s switch blankets. She yawned again. Justas well we re not going up in the morning.I need sleep. 6Night.A gale wind blowing across the marshes, a dry chill wind that cut to the bone.The Wounded Moon was down, a smear of high cloud dimmed the star-glitter and athick fog boiled up from the marshwater.Brann sat wrapped in blankets, staring at the faint red glow from the dyingfire, waiting for Jaril to return.A great horned owl fought the wind,laboring in large sweeps toward the top of the Rock; he angled across thewind, was blown past his point of aim, clawed his way back, gained a few morefeet, was blown back, dipped below the rim of the Rock into the ragged eddiesaround the friable sandstone, climbed again and finally found a perch on thelee side of the Sihbaraburj.Jaril shifted to a small lemur form with dexterous hands and handfeet and aprehensile tail.Driven by all the needs that churned in him, he crawled intoa weep-hole and went skittering through the maze of holes that drained theplace, provided ventilation and housed the mirrors that lit theinterior of the made-mountain.He shifted again to some-thing like a platedcentipede, and went scuttling at top speed through the wall tubes to thejunkroom where he d seen the little glass frog.He hadn t been back since thatfirst day, no point in alerting Amortis if she wasn t aware of what she had.He tried not to wonder if the thing was still there, but his nerves werestrung so taut he felt like explod-ing.On and on he trotted, his clawstick-ticking on the brick.He thrust his head into the room.The gloom inside was thicker than the dust,he couldn t see a thing.He closed his foreclaws on the edge of the hole, fought for control of thetides coursing through him.Preoccupied with his internal difficulties, for several minutes he didn tnotice an appre-ciable lightening in that gloom.When he looked round again,he saw a faint glow coming from the shelf where he d seenChurrikyoo.He shifted hastily to his glowsphere form and drifted over to it.Having rid itself of dust, the talisman was pulsing softly, as if it said:come to me, take me.Jaril hung in midair, all his senses alert.He felt forthe presence of a god.Nothing.He drifted closer.Nothing.Closer.Warmth enfolded him.Welcome.The little glass frog seemed to begrinning at him.He extruded two pseudopods and lifted it from the shelf.Itseemed to nestle against him as if it were coming home.He didn t understand.He glanced at the shelf and nearly dropped the frog.A patch of light was shifting and shaping itself into some-thing.something.yes, a duplicate of the thing he held.Jaril looked down.Churrikyoo nestled in the hollows of his pseudopods and heseemed to hear silent laughter from it that went vibrating through his body.He looked at the shelf.The object was dull and lifeless, covered with a coatof dust.He gave a mental shrug, slipped the frog into the pouch he d builtfor it and flitted for the hole.He shifted form and went skittering up the worm holes, a pregnantpseudocentipede.Now and then he stopped and scanned, every sense straining,searching for any sign of alarm.Nothing, except the frog chuckling insidehim, nest-ling in a womblike warmth.He wriggled out of a weep-hole and shifted again as he fell into the wind
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Tematy
IndexLumley.Brian. .[Psychomech.03]. .Psychoamok
Jeffries Sabrina Lord 03 Niebezpieczny lord
Coulter Catherine Gwiazda 03 Gwiazda z nefrytu
Łajkowska Anna Wrzosowisko 03 Cienie na wrzosowisku
Coulter Catherine Baron 03 Szalony baron
Fiora 03 Fiora i papież Benzoni Juliette
Marlowe Mia Dotyk 03 Dotyk oszustaS303
PS00 Nienacki Zbigniew Pierwsza przygoda Pana Samochodzika
KRZYŻÓWKA Z PRZEKROJU Zygmunt Zeydler Zborowski
Howatch Susan Za lÂśniącą zasłoną 03 Najwyższe trofea (2)