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    the thing breathing.
    He edged closer.
    H nnar and Tryben stood with the two techs watch-ing one of the larger
    screen with enigmatic u shapes flickering across it. Ilaörn didn t
    understand any of that and the continual repetition of the pattern irri-tated
    him. He examined the monstrosity carefully, looking for breathing holes.
    He didn t want to waste his spores. He shifted about, feeling for currents
    of air, moving very slowly, careful not to attract attention.
     Hakh. I think I ve got it. Let me have the board, tech. Tryben settled
    himself before a sensor paten,
    blanked the screen, and ran his fingers over the finger squares, calling up
    another pattern. He touched a square, another, ran the pattern through a few
    permutations until he had one he was satisfied with, wiped it, repeated the
    process twice more, pulled up the first two patterns and merged them with the
    third, enlarg-ing the result until it filled the whole screen.
     You know it better than I do, tech. Take a look.
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     I can t say for sure, but seems to me it s a lot like the anomaly.
    Ilaörn stopped his fidgeting a moment and smiled at the sullen resentment in
    the tech s voice.
     O Ykkuval, if you will permit, an eyeprint will au-thorize adding this
    pattern to the Library. Then we ll see if the anomalies remain.
     Do it.
    Them watched with interest as a curious helmet was brought from a locked
    cupboard, clamped on
    Hun-nar s head, a lead plugged into the kephalos.
    Now, he thought.
    Do it now.
    He slipped the strap of the harp off his shoulder, set the instrument on the
    floor.
    Chel Dé bless, old friend.
    After a last caress on the smooth live wood, he took the spore packets from
    his sleeve and tore them open. Holding the packets between little finger and
    fourth finger, he slipped the sheaths off the air-gun darts.
    Expelling the breath he d been holding, he cast the spores in the
    face of the kephalos, leaped forward, drove one dart into Hunnar s neck
    and the second into his own.
    19. Fire in the Sky
    1
    Shadith took another length of rope from the storage bin, tied it to a strut
    on the front seat. She tossed the free end over the limb, looked down at
    Marrin in his blanket sling.  You ready?
    His hands were hooked around the crudely tied net that helped
    support the sling, his face was gray-green with pain, shiny with sweat.
     No. His mouth squeezed into a thin, wry smile.  Get this going, hm. The
    sooner it s over, the sooner I can faint.
    She made a face at him and swung out over the thorn patch, careful to land on
    her good foot. She tottered a moment, then picked up the staff she d cut from
    one of the trees and shaped into a crutch of sorts. She used it to bring the
    sling rope to her, tossed the staff up to Marrin and carried the rope end to
    the tethered cow grazer, one of the pair the spy had used as camouflage. She
    fastened it to the harness she d improvised from rope and strips of
    padding, pulled the knot loose on the tether and spent a moment
    scratching the curly black poll while she tightened her hold on the cow s
    impulses. It wasn t a full mindride, she wasn t looking out through grazer
    eyes, but she could prod her into moving where she wanted, at the precise
    speed and direction. She straightened, called,  Ready to go, Marrin. Yell if
    you get snagged.
    The grazer leaned into the harness and step by step hauled Marrin from the
    crashed flier. When he was swinging free and had the staff ready to shove
    himself clear of the thorn patch, she called again,  Ready?
    He grunted, set the end of the staff against the trunk.  Ready.
    Shadith clucked to the grazer, got her to take an awkward step backward, then
    another and another.
    The cow mooawwed her displeasure and shook her head angrily. She didn t like
    backing up, she didn t like the rubbing and pressure from the harness, but it
    only needed half a dozen steps to lower Marrin gently to the ground and
    the job was done before she balked and wouldn t move again even
    with
    Shadith s mind-tickling.
    After a last scratch of the curly poll, Shadith used her belt knife to cut the
    rope off the harness, then the harness off the beast.  My thanks, lady. She
    patted the cow on the flank and watched her run off, heading back for the
    ambush-clearing and her calf.
    As Shadith hobbled wearily back to Marrin, she saw the Chav watching her.
    Before she moved out of sight round the bulge of the thorn patch, she gave him
    a broad smile that she hoped irritated him
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    intensely.
    She squatted beside Marrin.  How you doing?
     I have been better.
     Well, let s get you in the tent. Then I ll see if I can get hold of our
    rescue service.
     What about the spy?
     He s contemplating cloud drift right now. No doubt plotting like mad and
    waiting for an opening to set those plots going.
     Don t leave him alone long, Shadow. He tried to lift himself and help her
    move him but his arms had no strength left and there wasn t even a twitch in
    his legs.  I m no use.
     Feeling sorry for yourself, are you? Hmp. You ll be fine once we get you in
    the ottodoc at the
     Clave.
    He smiled up at her.  And we can be sure the Goës will come for us. We ve got
    his proof.
     Sorry and cynical. She chuckled.  And very right. Brace yourself. I m going
    to have to slide you along on the blanket and it won t be comfortable.
    2
     I am a Scholar with a Scholar s constraints. And while I sympathize deeply,
    your people are not my people, this is not a fight I have any business
    joining. Aslan spoke slowly, with a weightiness that made her cringe a
    little; but she wanted no mistakes about what she was saying.  I can suggest
    this, treat with the Goës Koraka hoeh Dexios. He will probably provide
    trans-port and medical services but the price he ll ask for these is something
    that you might not want to pay. He will not sell you weapons.
    They were in a sun-filled tree-shaded patio with Eolt graspers on the eaves
    and a fountain playing gen-tly in the center, water from a hotspring below the
    blai shooting at intervals into high jets but mostly bub-bling up, then
    dripping musically from bowl to bowl and into a small stream that vanished
    under a wall. Aslan found the humid heat uncomfortable, but the Eolt and the
    Denchok who d come to talk with her seemed cozy enough.
    Daizil Voice for the Earth leaned into the speaking tentacle of Bladechel
    Voice for the Air. After a mo-ment, xe sighed and straightened.  Why? We fight
    the same enemy.
     The Goës is not a warrior, he s a trader. He takes the long view. Which is
    that what you use to defeat the enemy will be turned on him once the enemy is
    gone. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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