Read Online For Love of Evil by Piers Anthony - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Piers Anthony
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brief acquaintance.
But to trudge afoot, with the shoes wreaking blisters on his feet-that was not ideal either. He considered, then retreated to the deep forest and got out of the clothing. He formed it into a bundle, the shoes inside the tunic, and gripped it with his teeth. Then he changed form to a small horse, still holding the bundle, and set off north at a trot. He could travel a long distance rapidly this way.
He did so. By nightfall he was many leagues north. But he could not keep running forever; though he was very like a horse in this form, he had not perfected a horse's digestion, so could not graze. He was tired and hungry, and had to revert to his natural form for the night.
He did so, when his ears told him he was near a town. He pried the bundle from his locked teeth and untied it. He donned his tunic and shoes. Now he had to find a decent inn, and find a way to pay for his keep. He did not relish the notion of cheating the innkeeper, but he had no money.
He scouted about and found a naturally faceted stone. He concentrated on it, transmuting its silica to glass. It was harder to change a solid than a liquid, but silica was close to glass in composition, which facilitated the process. Soon he had a pretty faceted glass stone, translucent with a blue tinge.
He walked toward the town. He was in luck; there was an inn at the edge. He entered.
The innkeeper eyed him warily. "Refugee, eh? Let's see the color of your coin."
"I am a refugee, and I have no coin," Parry said. "All I have is this pretty stone I found. I doubt it is worth much, but if you would be kind enough to accept it in lieu of payment for the night's lodging-"
The man peered at the stone. He brought it to the fireplace and held it before the dancing flames. The light refracted, and the blue showed through.
"One night?" the innkeeper asked. "Then on in the morning?"
"I'm traveling north," Parry agreed. "As I said, that stone may not be worth much, but it is pretty, and-"
"Done." The man pocketed the stone. "Go ask the wench for soup, and she'll show you your room after."
The wench . . .
Parry quelled his surge of grief. All day he had kept it at bay, focusing narrowly on his effort of running, of finding his way along little-used back trails so that he would not encounter many people. A runaway horse was fair game for anyone! But now, abruptly, that grief threatened to overwhelm him.
He went to the girl, who was a blotchy-faced creature with just one fetching feature: a deep cleavage that she flaunted knowingly. She leaned forward to serve him a bowl of soup, and he gazed down the proffered valley, not because of any interest but because it would have marked him as odd had he not done so. Satisfied that she had his proper attention, she straightened up so that the view suffered. She was a natural tease. What a contrast to-
Again he clamped down on it, and marched to a solitary table with his brimming bowl. As he slurped the soup, he saw the innkeeper showing something to another man. The stone, surely. Well, Parry had never told him it was valuable; he had protested that he thought it wasn't. If the man had convinced himself it was a diamond, worth an abbot's ransom, could Parry be blamed for that? The innkeeper thought he was cheating an ignorant refugee peasant. It served him right.
Still, Parry felt some guilt. Then he realized that the man would probably sell it to some equally ignorant trader, and make a tidy profit on the deal. The stone might in time become as valuable as others thought it was, and no one would suffer.
He had a good meal, and a good night, except for the looming anguish of his memories. Again he looked at the smear of blood on his wrist. Perhaps he was just being foolish, but it seemed that his wrist was warm in the vicinity, as if heated by a kindred spirit. Jolie . . .
But just before dawn he came abruptly awake with another concern:
But to trudge afoot, with the shoes wreaking blisters on his feet-that was not ideal either. He considered, then retreated to the deep forest and got out of the clothing. He formed it into a bundle, the shoes inside the tunic, and gripped it with his teeth. Then he changed form to a small horse, still holding the bundle, and set off north at a trot. He could travel a long distance rapidly this way.
He did so. By nightfall he was many leagues north. But he could not keep running forever; though he was very like a horse in this form, he had not perfected a horse's digestion, so could not graze. He was tired and hungry, and had to revert to his natural form for the night.
He did so, when his ears told him he was near a town. He pried the bundle from his locked teeth and untied it. He donned his tunic and shoes. Now he had to find a decent inn, and find a way to pay for his keep. He did not relish the notion of cheating the innkeeper, but he had no money.
He scouted about and found a naturally faceted stone. He concentrated on it, transmuting its silica to glass. It was harder to change a solid than a liquid, but silica was close to glass in composition, which facilitated the process. Soon he had a pretty faceted glass stone, translucent with a blue tinge.
He walked toward the town. He was in luck; there was an inn at the edge. He entered.
The innkeeper eyed him warily. "Refugee, eh? Let's see the color of your coin."
"I am a refugee, and I have no coin," Parry said. "All I have is this pretty stone I found. I doubt it is worth much, but if you would be kind enough to accept it in lieu of payment for the night's lodging-"
The man peered at the stone. He brought it to the fireplace and held it before the dancing flames. The light refracted, and the blue showed through.
"One night?" the innkeeper asked. "Then on in the morning?"
"I'm traveling north," Parry agreed. "As I said, that stone may not be worth much, but it is pretty, and-"
"Done." The man pocketed the stone. "Go ask the wench for soup, and she'll show you your room after."
The wench . . .
Parry quelled his surge of grief. All day he had kept it at bay, focusing narrowly on his effort of running, of finding his way along little-used back trails so that he would not encounter many people. A runaway horse was fair game for anyone! But now, abruptly, that grief threatened to overwhelm him.
He went to the girl, who was a blotchy-faced creature with just one fetching feature: a deep cleavage that she flaunted knowingly. She leaned forward to serve him a bowl of soup, and he gazed down the proffered valley, not because of any interest but because it would have marked him as odd had he not done so. Satisfied that she had his proper attention, she straightened up so that the view suffered. She was a natural tease. What a contrast to-
Again he clamped down on it, and marched to a solitary table with his brimming bowl. As he slurped the soup, he saw the innkeeper showing something to another man. The stone, surely. Well, Parry had never told him it was valuable; he had protested that he thought it wasn't. If the man had convinced himself it was a diamond, worth an abbot's ransom, could Parry be blamed for that? The innkeeper thought he was cheating an ignorant refugee peasant. It served him right.
Still, Parry felt some guilt. Then he realized that the man would probably sell it to some equally ignorant trader, and make a tidy profit on the deal. The stone might in time become as valuable as others thought it was, and no one would suffer.
He had a good meal, and a good night, except for the looming anguish of his memories. Again he looked at the smear of blood on his wrist. Perhaps he was just being foolish, but it seemed that his wrist was warm in the vicinity, as if heated by a kindred spirit. Jolie . . .
But just before dawn he came abruptly awake with another concern:
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