beyond the waist of the world.
There are limits to what frail flesh can endure.
Those long leagues were not easy. The black iron coach and Lady’s wagon drew the
eye of bandits and princes and princes who were bandits. Most times Goblin and
One-Eye bluffed us through. The rest of the time we forced them to back down
with a little applied terror. There was one long stretch where the magic had
gone away.
If those two had learned anything during their years with the Company, it was
showmanship. When they conjured an illusion you could smell its bad breath from
seventy feet away.
I wished they would refrain from wasting that flash upon one another.
I decided it was time we laid up for a few days. We needed to regain our
youthful bounce.
One-Eye suggested, “There’s a place down the road called the Temple of
Travellers’ Repose. They take in wanderers. They have for two thousand years. It
would be a good place to lay up and do some research.”
“Research?”
“Two thousand years of travellers’ tales makes a hell of a library, Croaker. And
a tale is the only donative they ever require.”
He had me. He grinned cockily. The old scoundrel knew me too well. Nothing else
could have stilled my determination to reach Khatovar so thoroughly.
I passed the word. And gave One-Eye the fish-eye. “That means you’re going to do
some honest work.”
“What?”
“Who do you think is going to translate?”
He groaned and rolled his eye. “When am I going to learn to keep my big damned
mouth shut?”
The Temple was a lightly fortified monastery sprawled atop a low hill. It looked
golden in the light of a late afternoon sun. The forest beyond and the fields
before were as intense a dark green as ever I have seen. The place looked
restful.
As we entered, a wave of well-being cleansed us. A feeling of I have come home
washed over us. I looked at Lady. The things I felt glowed in her face, and
touched my heart.
“I could retire here,” I told Lady two days into our stay. Clean for the first
time in months, we stalked a garden never disturbed by conflicts more weighty
than the squabbles of sparrows.
She gave me a thin smile and did me the courtesy of saying nothing about the
delusive nature of dreams.
The place had everything I thought I wanted. Comfort. Quiet. Isolation from the
ills of the earth. Purpose. Challenging historical studies to soothe my lust to
know what had gone on before.
Most of all, it provided a respite from responsibility. Each man added to the
Company seemed to double my burden as I worried about keeping them fed, keeping
them healthy, and out of trouble.
“Crows,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Everywhere we go there’re crows. Maybe I only started noticing them the past
couple months. But everywhere we go I see crows. And I can’t shake the feeling
they’re watching us.”
Lady gave me a puzzled look.
“Look. Right over there in that acacia tree. Two of them squatting there like
black omens.”
She glanced at the tree, gave me another look. “I see a couple of doves.”
“But . . . ” One of the crows launched itself, flapped away over the monastery
wall. “That wasn’t any—”
“Croaker!” One-Eye charged through the garden, scattering the birds and
squirrels, ignoring all propriety. “Hey! Croaker! Guess what I found! Copies of
the Annals from when we came past here headed north!”
Well. And well. This tired old mind cannot find words adequate. Excitement?
Certainly. Ecstasy? You’d better believe. The moment was almost sexually
intense. My mind focused the way one’s does when an especially desirable woman
suddenly seems attainable.
Several older volumes of the Annals had become lost or damaged during the years.
There were some I’d never seen, and never had known a hope of seeing.
“Where?” I breathed.
“In the library. One of the monks thought you might be interested. When we were
here
There are limits to what frail flesh can endure.
Those long leagues were not easy. The black iron coach and Lady’s wagon drew the
eye of bandits and princes and princes who were bandits. Most times Goblin and
One-Eye bluffed us through. The rest of the time we forced them to back down
with a little applied terror. There was one long stretch where the magic had
gone away.
If those two had learned anything during their years with the Company, it was
showmanship. When they conjured an illusion you could smell its bad breath from
seventy feet away.
I wished they would refrain from wasting that flash upon one another.
I decided it was time we laid up for a few days. We needed to regain our
youthful bounce.
One-Eye suggested, “There’s a place down the road called the Temple of
Travellers’ Repose. They take in wanderers. They have for two thousand years. It
would be a good place to lay up and do some research.”
“Research?”
“Two thousand years of travellers’ tales makes a hell of a library, Croaker. And
a tale is the only donative they ever require.”
He had me. He grinned cockily. The old scoundrel knew me too well. Nothing else
could have stilled my determination to reach Khatovar so thoroughly.
I passed the word. And gave One-Eye the fish-eye. “That means you’re going to do
some honest work.”
“What?”
“Who do you think is going to translate?”
He groaned and rolled his eye. “When am I going to learn to keep my big damned
mouth shut?”
The Temple was a lightly fortified monastery sprawled atop a low hill. It looked
golden in the light of a late afternoon sun. The forest beyond and the fields
before were as intense a dark green as ever I have seen. The place looked
restful.
As we entered, a wave of well-being cleansed us. A feeling of I have come home
washed over us. I looked at Lady. The things I felt glowed in her face, and
touched my heart.
“I could retire here,” I told Lady two days into our stay. Clean for the first
time in months, we stalked a garden never disturbed by conflicts more weighty
than the squabbles of sparrows.
She gave me a thin smile and did me the courtesy of saying nothing about the
delusive nature of dreams.
The place had everything I thought I wanted. Comfort. Quiet. Isolation from the
ills of the earth. Purpose. Challenging historical studies to soothe my lust to
know what had gone on before.
Most of all, it provided a respite from responsibility. Each man added to the
Company seemed to double my burden as I worried about keeping them fed, keeping
them healthy, and out of trouble.
“Crows,” I muttered.
“What?”
“Everywhere we go there’re crows. Maybe I only started noticing them the past
couple months. But everywhere we go I see crows. And I can’t shake the feeling
they’re watching us.”
Lady gave me a puzzled look.
“Look. Right over there in that acacia tree. Two of them squatting there like
black omens.”
She glanced at the tree, gave me another look. “I see a couple of doves.”
“But . . . ” One of the crows launched itself, flapped away over the monastery
wall. “That wasn’t any—”
“Croaker!” One-Eye charged through the garden, scattering the birds and
squirrels, ignoring all propriety. “Hey! Croaker! Guess what I found! Copies of
the Annals from when we came past here headed north!”
Well. And well. This tired old mind cannot find words adequate. Excitement?
Certainly. Ecstasy? You’d better believe. The moment was almost sexually
intense. My mind focused the way one’s does when an especially desirable woman
suddenly seems attainable.
Several older volumes of the Annals had become lost or damaged during the years.
There were some I’d never seen, and never had known a hope of seeing.
“Where?” I breathed.
“In the library. One of the monks thought you might be interested. When we were
here
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