[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
'Oh.' It occurred to Duffy that this would not only make it difficult to get
into the area, but difficult also to get out, especially in a panicky haste.
He glanced furtively to both sides, looking for skeletons of any wayfarers who
might have blundered into this wall-less labyrinth. He didn't see any bones,
but, glancing up, he did see figures circling high in the air - figures he
thought were hawks until he looked more steadily and saw the manlike forms
between the vast wings.
He quickly snapped his gaze back to the landscape ahead, uneasy to think that
it was he who had called those things out of their deep retreat.
He sneaked a glance over his shoulder to see how Bugge and his men were taking
these outrë
phenomena, and was surprised to see no dismay or fear in their faces. Several
were watching the fliers, but all seemed tensely cheerful. Bugge grinned at
the Irishman and muttered something in
Norse, so Duffy grinned back and raised a clenched fist before returning his
attention to the horses. Well, why should I be worried, he thought; nobody
else is.
They proceeded for another hour into the wooded hills, and three more times
the sun did its trick of shifting about in the sky. The whole adventure had by
this time taken on a dreamlike unreality to the Irishman, and if the wagon had
rolled up across the side of the sky, swerving between clouds, he would not
have thought it incongruous.
Finally the wagon bumped down through a narrow, greenery-roofed tunnel, in
which gravity for one awful moment seemed to be pulling upward, and emerged
into a small glade.
For a moment Duffy just sat, clutching the edges of the seat and trying to get
his bearings - that last bit of sorcery had convinced him that the wagon was
going into a forward tumble - then he opened his eyes and saw the cabin.
It was a low, thatch-roofed, stone-walled, one-storey affair, and could
credibly have been five years old or five hundred. He glanced questioningly at
Aurelianus, who nodded. 'This is the place,' the wizard said.
Duffy bounded over the side onto the grass. 'Let's get him and get the hell
out of these woods, then. Bugge! Come in, drag your lads out of there! There's
work to be done, old kings to be carried about!'
'This is entirely the wrong spirit,' Aurelianus protested, climbing down
beside the Irishman. 'Now listen, there's a question you must ask and one you
mustn't, so -'
'Damn it, I'll ask any questions that occur to me, and none that don't. Come
on now, lead the way.
You're the one that knows him, after all.' He strode toward the cabin with the
sorcerer scurrying alongside and the stolid northmen bringing up the rear.
'All this is difficult enough,' Aurelianus complained, 'without you acting
like a damned -'What did you think you were going to get, when you.. .placed
your order for me? A tame, all-powerful giant who'd cheerfully jump at your
every order? If so, you made a mistake - you didn't want King
Arthur, you wanted a village idiot.'
The sorcerer threw up his hands. 'Maybe you've got a point and maybe you
haven't,' he said. 'Quiet now, here we are.' He rapped respectfully on the
thick oaken door, and a faint voice answered within. Frowning a warning at
Duffy, Aurelianus opened the door and led the way inside.
Duffy followed, and was surprised; he had expected to see the same depressing
Page 104
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
gloom that cloaked
Aurelianus' chamber at the inn, and the same sort of ominous and ill-smelling
objects scattered carelessly about. Instead he saw a pleasant, sunlit room,
aired by two open windows; the only jarring note was several handfuls of mud
caked on the foot of the bed. The Irishman didn't look at the man in the bed,
but turned to his northmen and, with expressive grunts, began pantomiming the
act of lifting the occupant and carrying him outside. It looked as if he were
imitating a careless furniture mover.
'Brian,' came a weak but humorous voice from behind him. 'Surely it's Brian
Duffy?'
Duffy turned and looked at the King, who was sitting up in the bed. He was
clean-shaven, though his white hair hung down around his shoulders, and his
face was seamed with what the Irishman thought must have been centuries of
experience. Aside from the bandage around his hips, he didn't appear to be in
bad shape.
Then Duffy met his gaze, and to his own surprise remembered having met and
talked to the. old man, decades ago, while out on a boyhood ramble along the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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'Oh.' It occurred to Duffy that this would not only make it difficult to get
into the area, but difficult also to get out, especially in a panicky haste.
He glanced furtively to both sides, looking for skeletons of any wayfarers who
might have blundered into this wall-less labyrinth. He didn't see any bones,
but, glancing up, he did see figures circling high in the air - figures he
thought were hawks until he looked more steadily and saw the manlike forms
between the vast wings.
He quickly snapped his gaze back to the landscape ahead, uneasy to think that
it was he who had called those things out of their deep retreat.
He sneaked a glance over his shoulder to see how Bugge and his men were taking
these outrë
phenomena, and was surprised to see no dismay or fear in their faces. Several
were watching the fliers, but all seemed tensely cheerful. Bugge grinned at
the Irishman and muttered something in
Norse, so Duffy grinned back and raised a clenched fist before returning his
attention to the horses. Well, why should I be worried, he thought; nobody
else is.
They proceeded for another hour into the wooded hills, and three more times
the sun did its trick of shifting about in the sky. The whole adventure had by
this time taken on a dreamlike unreality to the Irishman, and if the wagon had
rolled up across the side of the sky, swerving between clouds, he would not
have thought it incongruous.
Finally the wagon bumped down through a narrow, greenery-roofed tunnel, in
which gravity for one awful moment seemed to be pulling upward, and emerged
into a small glade.
For a moment Duffy just sat, clutching the edges of the seat and trying to get
his bearings - that last bit of sorcery had convinced him that the wagon was
going into a forward tumble - then he opened his eyes and saw the cabin.
It was a low, thatch-roofed, stone-walled, one-storey affair, and could
credibly have been five years old or five hundred. He glanced questioningly at
Aurelianus, who nodded. 'This is the place,' the wizard said.
Duffy bounded over the side onto the grass. 'Let's get him and get the hell
out of these woods, then. Bugge! Come in, drag your lads out of there! There's
work to be done, old kings to be carried about!'
'This is entirely the wrong spirit,' Aurelianus protested, climbing down
beside the Irishman. 'Now listen, there's a question you must ask and one you
mustn't, so -'
'Damn it, I'll ask any questions that occur to me, and none that don't. Come
on now, lead the way.
You're the one that knows him, after all.' He strode toward the cabin with the
sorcerer scurrying alongside and the stolid northmen bringing up the rear.
'All this is difficult enough,' Aurelianus complained, 'without you acting
like a damned -'What did you think you were going to get, when you.. .placed
your order for me? A tame, all-powerful giant who'd cheerfully jump at your
every order? If so, you made a mistake - you didn't want King
Arthur, you wanted a village idiot.'
The sorcerer threw up his hands. 'Maybe you've got a point and maybe you
haven't,' he said. 'Quiet now, here we are.' He rapped respectfully on the
thick oaken door, and a faint voice answered within. Frowning a warning at
Duffy, Aurelianus opened the door and led the way inside.
Duffy followed, and was surprised; he had expected to see the same depressing
Page 104
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
gloom that cloaked
Aurelianus' chamber at the inn, and the same sort of ominous and ill-smelling
objects scattered carelessly about. Instead he saw a pleasant, sunlit room,
aired by two open windows; the only jarring note was several handfuls of mud
caked on the foot of the bed. The Irishman didn't look at the man in the bed,
but turned to his northmen and, with expressive grunts, began pantomiming the
act of lifting the occupant and carrying him outside. It looked as if he were
imitating a careless furniture mover.
'Brian,' came a weak but humorous voice from behind him. 'Surely it's Brian
Duffy?'
Duffy turned and looked at the King, who was sitting up in the bed. He was
clean-shaven, though his white hair hung down around his shoulders, and his
face was seamed with what the Irishman thought must have been centuries of
experience. Aside from the bandage around his hips, he didn't appear to be in
bad shape.
Then Duffy met his gaze, and to his own surprise remembered having met and
talked to the. old man, decades ago, while out on a boyhood ramble along the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]