[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
prosperity from farming. But loving such a life and being able to guide a country were two very different
prospects. Would Brant and Della come with us? she asked. I m afraid I need them here. But
Fieldson will be there. Skylark has also offered to go, since Iris can be healer at Suncroft.
Iris is sapphire? Chime s mood lightened. It is hard to understand her talent. I don t know what it
means to be a rainbow mage. He hesitated, thoughtful. Then he said, When you make a spell, it uses
one color, yes?
Always.
She uses more. He ran his finger along the mosaics that bordered the window, tracing out a design that
were mostly blue, but with accents of other colors. Her spells are like this. They depend mainly on one
hue but include some of all. When she makes a healing spell, she soothes a little, feels her patient s mood,
gives a bit light. Her healing may have less power because of that, but she adds nuances we cannot
achieve.
It sounds lovely.
His face softened. Aye. She is.
She smiled at his besotted expression. We all have much to learn about our gifts.
So Muller says. The king shook his head. He believes he is cursed. Jarid, he is wrong. I have
looked through many histories, trying to understand.
Curiosity flashed in his gaze. You have an idea?
She hesitated, afraid to sound foolish. But she had to learn to express herself better, with more
confidence. I might. I believe some ancient mages used that room in the Mage Tower to concentrate
their power. Many of us did. But Muller never could focus through that room.
I didn t mean the one you used. The other.
With the flawed shapes? When she nodded, he said, I hadn t realized our histories recorded mages
using that one.
Often they just say the chamber. We ve assumed it meant the one with perfect shapes. She paused.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
But I ve found men-tions of a view from the window that make it sound like the chamber of flawed
shapes.
He considered her words. You think that room existed because other Dawnfields had powers such as
Muller?
Yes. She paused, seeking to speak well instead of stumbling. I think long ago, your ancestors tried to
breed Dawnfield mages who didn t need actual physical shapes to focus their power. Instead they ended
up with mages who used imperfect shapes. Like Muller. War mages. Perhaps that is why Anvil had an
imperfect green power.
Jarid stiffened. No comparison exists between Muller and Anvil. Her voice softened. Muller is light.
Anvil is dark. I meant Anvil s gifts were skewed. Perhaps those traits our ancestors explored can show
up many generations later, changed by the passage of centuries, even millennia. She had seen another
truth in Anvil s spirit. Do you recall the incantation I dreamed? Allar He stopped. I dislike the
words.
I also.
Sphere -inside- out.
Anvil used it to reverse spells. Perhaps it spoke to him because he was a throwback to those ancient
mages.
Jarid grimaced. He should have left it in oblivion. Aye, she murmured. Muller s spells are different.
They often do achieve good, but in strange ways.
A smile eased the severity of the king s face. That cousin of mine is incapable of cruelty.
It gratified her that he understood. His spells go awry because he can t control them. No one knows
how to teach him.
He has learned some. He was so accident prone when I was little. Now he has less trouble.
Jarid
Yes?
She spoke quietly. You make spells without shapes.
I always use shapes.
But you imagine them. They don t have to be real.
Real shapes strengthen my spells.
Yes. But if your ancestors did try to breed mages who didn t need real shapes, you are what they
hoped for.
He gazed out at the countryside, becoming distant. I had little to do all those years except meditate.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Chime couldn t imagine the loneliness. She wanted to hate Unbent, but he had given Jarid unconditional
love, making those years bearable. Without that, Jarid probably wouldn t have survived.
You refined your gift, she said. Purified it until you could tap into your power.
He turned back to her, his gaze intent. I need a magic now that only you can provide. Say yes. Say you
will go to Harsdown.
She twisted the cloth belt of her tunic. I must talk to Muller.
All right. Do that. He grinned. Then say yes.
She couldn t help but smile. You are incorrigible.
Mischief lit his eyes. Perhaps I am.
She hesitated. I heard you sent emissaries to Stonce.
To find Anvil s family, if they live.
I will weep for them.
His jaw stiffened. But not for him.
Chime lifted her palm outward as if to splay it on his chest, but she held it a finger-span away from
touching him, though no spell stopped her. She was too aware of the invisible shield he used to isolate
himself. Softly she said, You must first learn to forgive yourself.
True to his name, Varqelle the Cowled wore a dark robe this night, its hood pulled up to shade his
deep-set eyes. He stood at the barred window of his room and let gusts of wind ripple over his face.
They had imprisoned him in an upper room of the Starlight Wing, one well appointed with heavy gold
drapes and gilded furniture upholstered in wine-red brocade. Chandeliers glittered above, and urns
painted with geometric patterns held sprays of ferns. An echo-dove harp with gold strings stood in one
corner.
It was still a cell.
The door rattled behind him. He turned to see its ornate gold knob turn. The door opened, leaving a tall,
dark-haired man with a scar on his neck framed in its archway.
Jar id. The mad king. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl chiara76.opx.pl
prosperity from farming. But loving such a life and being able to guide a country were two very different
prospects. Would Brant and Della come with us? she asked. I m afraid I need them here. But
Fieldson will be there. Skylark has also offered to go, since Iris can be healer at Suncroft.
Iris is sapphire? Chime s mood lightened. It is hard to understand her talent. I don t know what it
means to be a rainbow mage. He hesitated, thoughtful. Then he said, When you make a spell, it uses
one color, yes?
Always.
She uses more. He ran his finger along the mosaics that bordered the window, tracing out a design that
were mostly blue, but with accents of other colors. Her spells are like this. They depend mainly on one
hue but include some of all. When she makes a healing spell, she soothes a little, feels her patient s mood,
gives a bit light. Her healing may have less power because of that, but she adds nuances we cannot
achieve.
It sounds lovely.
His face softened. Aye. She is.
She smiled at his besotted expression. We all have much to learn about our gifts.
So Muller says. The king shook his head. He believes he is cursed. Jarid, he is wrong. I have
looked through many histories, trying to understand.
Curiosity flashed in his gaze. You have an idea?
She hesitated, afraid to sound foolish. But she had to learn to express herself better, with more
confidence. I might. I believe some ancient mages used that room in the Mage Tower to concentrate
their power. Many of us did. But Muller never could focus through that room.
I didn t mean the one you used. The other.
With the flawed shapes? When she nodded, he said, I hadn t realized our histories recorded mages
using that one.
Often they just say the chamber. We ve assumed it meant the one with perfect shapes. She paused.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
But I ve found men-tions of a view from the window that make it sound like the chamber of flawed
shapes.
He considered her words. You think that room existed because other Dawnfields had powers such as
Muller?
Yes. She paused, seeking to speak well instead of stumbling. I think long ago, your ancestors tried to
breed Dawnfield mages who didn t need actual physical shapes to focus their power. Instead they ended
up with mages who used imperfect shapes. Like Muller. War mages. Perhaps that is why Anvil had an
imperfect green power.
Jarid stiffened. No comparison exists between Muller and Anvil. Her voice softened. Muller is light.
Anvil is dark. I meant Anvil s gifts were skewed. Perhaps those traits our ancestors explored can show
up many generations later, changed by the passage of centuries, even millennia. She had seen another
truth in Anvil s spirit. Do you recall the incantation I dreamed? Allar He stopped. I dislike the
words.
I also.
Sphere -inside- out.
Anvil used it to reverse spells. Perhaps it spoke to him because he was a throwback to those ancient
mages.
Jarid grimaced. He should have left it in oblivion. Aye, she murmured. Muller s spells are different.
They often do achieve good, but in strange ways.
A smile eased the severity of the king s face. That cousin of mine is incapable of cruelty.
It gratified her that he understood. His spells go awry because he can t control them. No one knows
how to teach him.
He has learned some. He was so accident prone when I was little. Now he has less trouble.
Jarid
Yes?
She spoke quietly. You make spells without shapes.
I always use shapes.
But you imagine them. They don t have to be real.
Real shapes strengthen my spells.
Yes. But if your ancestors did try to breed mages who didn t need real shapes, you are what they
hoped for.
He gazed out at the countryside, becoming distant. I had little to do all those years except meditate.
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
Chime couldn t imagine the loneliness. She wanted to hate Unbent, but he had given Jarid unconditional
love, making those years bearable. Without that, Jarid probably wouldn t have survived.
You refined your gift, she said. Purified it until you could tap into your power.
He turned back to her, his gaze intent. I need a magic now that only you can provide. Say yes. Say you
will go to Harsdown.
She twisted the cloth belt of her tunic. I must talk to Muller.
All right. Do that. He grinned. Then say yes.
She couldn t help but smile. You are incorrigible.
Mischief lit his eyes. Perhaps I am.
She hesitated. I heard you sent emissaries to Stonce.
To find Anvil s family, if they live.
I will weep for them.
His jaw stiffened. But not for him.
Chime lifted her palm outward as if to splay it on his chest, but she held it a finger-span away from
touching him, though no spell stopped her. She was too aware of the invisible shield he used to isolate
himself. Softly she said, You must first learn to forgive yourself.
True to his name, Varqelle the Cowled wore a dark robe this night, its hood pulled up to shade his
deep-set eyes. He stood at the barred window of his room and let gusts of wind ripple over his face.
They had imprisoned him in an upper room of the Starlight Wing, one well appointed with heavy gold
drapes and gilded furniture upholstered in wine-red brocade. Chandeliers glittered above, and urns
painted with geometric patterns held sprays of ferns. An echo-dove harp with gold strings stood in one
corner.
It was still a cell.
The door rattled behind him. He turned to see its ornate gold knob turn. The door opened, leaving a tall,
dark-haired man with a scar on his neck framed in its archway.
Jar id. The mad king. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]