Read Online Mazirian the Magician by Jack Vance - Free Book Online

an opalescent dimming. So T’sais continued down the sighing forest courses, stifled, weighed, yet oblivious to the things she might have met — the Deodands, the pelgrane, the prowling erbs (creatures mixed of beasts, man and demon), the gids, who leapt twenty feet across the turf and clasped themselves to their victims.
    T’sais went unmolested, and presently reached the edge of the forest. The ground rose, the trees thinned, and T’sais came out on an illimitable dark expanse. This was Modavna Moor, a place of history, a tract which had borne the tread of many feet and absorbed much blood. At one famous slaughtering, Golickan Kodek the Conqueror had herded here the populations of two great cities, G’Vasan and Bautiku, constricted them in a circle three miles across, gradually pushed them tighter, tighter, tighter, panicked them toward the center within his flapping-armed sub-human cavalry, until at last he had achieved a gigantic squirming mound, half a thousand feet high, a pyramid of screaming flesh. It is said that Golickan Kodek mused ten minutes at his monument, then turned and rode his bounding mount back to the land of Laidenur from whence he had come.
    The ghosts of the ancient populations had paled and dissolved and Modavna Moor was less stifling than the forest. Bushes grew like blots from the ground. A line of rocky crags at the horizon jutted sharp against a faint violet after-glow. T’sais picked her way across the turf, relieved that the sky was open above. A few minutes later she came to an ancient road of stone slab, cracked and broken, bordered by a ditch where luminous star-shaped flowers grew. A wind came sighing off the moor to dampen her face with mist. She went wearily down the road. No shelter was visible, and the wind whipped coldly at her cloak.
    A rush of feet, a tumble of shapes, and T’sais was struggling against hard grasping hands. She fought for her rapier, but her arms were pinioned.
    One struck a light, fired a torch, to examine his prize. T’sais saw three bearded, scarred rogues of the moor; they wore gray pandy-suits, stained and fouled by mud and filth.
    â€œWhy it’s a handsome maid!” said one, leering.
    â€œI’ll seek about her for silver,” said another and slid his hands with evil intimacy over T’sais’ body. He found the sack of jewels, and turned them into his palm, a trickle of hundred-colored fire. “Mark these! The wealth of princes!”
    â€œOr sorcerers!” said another. And in sudden doubt they relaxed their holds. But still she could not reach her rapier.
    â€œWho are you, woman of the night?” asked one with some respect. “A witch, to have such jewels, and walk Modavna Moor alone?”
    T’sais had neither wit nor experience to improvise falsehood.
    â€œI am no witch! Release me, you stinking animals!”
    â€œNo witch? Then what manner of woman are you? Whence do you come?”
    â€œI am T’sais, of Embelyon,” she cried angrily. “Pandelume created me, and I seek love and beauty on Earth. Now drop your hands, for I would go my way!”
    The first rogue chortled. “Ho, ho! Seeking love and beauty! You have achieved something of your quest, girl — for while we lads are no beauties, to be sure, Tagman being covered with scab and Lasard lacking his teeth and ears — still we have much love, hey, lads? We will show you as much love as you desire! Hey, lads?”
    And in spite of T’sais’ horrified outcries, they dragged her across the moor to a stone cabin.
    They entered, and one kindled a roaring fire, while two stripped T’sais of her rapier and flung it in a corner. They locked the door with a great iron key, and released her. She sprang for her sword, but a buffet sent her to the foul floor.
    â€œMay that quiet you, fiend-cat!” panted Tagman. “You should be happy,” and they renewed their banter. “Admitted we are