Read Online The web of wizardry by Juanita Coulson - Free Book Online
Authors: Juanita Coulson
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fashion. He felt a true warrior, on a steed a Siirn would envy. Sentries and idlers gawked as Danaer nudged the roan, making it curvet and frisk, scattering a few troopmen who had strayed into its path.
Yistar and the General were standing at the gates, and Danaer hastily quieted the horse, approaching them sedately. As he endured their inspection, both looked him over carefully, staring for a long moment at his boots. Yistar swallowed a smile, saying nothing, and Danaer's attention shifted anxiously to the commandant.
"It is well," Nurdanth said. "Most well. A fine appearance. Excellent! Do not grow too fond of this animal, however. It is to be a gift ... to our noble adversary, with my compliments."
"I understand, my Lord General."
"Then away with you, and the goddess guard you this night." Yistar bellowed to the gatekeepers, and the men cursed and sweated at the bars. There was a final exchange of salutes and Danaer leaned forward. Alert and responsive, the roan trotted out briskly, leaving the firelit courtyard and moving into the blackness beyond.
SlIRN GORDT TE RaA
The night engulfed Danaer. Though most men would have been lost in such blackness, he found starlight and the dim glow of fort and city sufficient to show the way. Now and then he touched the reins and avoided barricade or pitfall, finally rounding the last of the stoneworks of the garrison's outer defenses. Siank spread out below him, a vista of painted walls and myriad lamps and lofty towers.
Danaer let the roan canter downhill, lured by Siank, the sacred city of the goddess. At sundown, on a much poorer mount, he had ridden this same road. Then his mood had been far different, as he intended to seek the temple and a good inn. That was before he had encountered those hard reminders of his status here. Since leaving Nyald, he had become more than ever suspended between the two peoples, a target for their distrust.
He tried to imagine Siank's walls broken and her Destre pride shattered, and though she had not welcomed him, the prospect brought him deep pain.
The torchlit towers slid past on his right as the stallion followed a beaten trail. Danaer looked again and again at Siank. Like many a youth of the tribes, he once had yearned to make this pilgrimage. Siank—of the green trees and brush nourished by numerous sweet water springs, the life source of the city's security and wealth. Siank shimmered in the night, the legends painted on her white daubed walls softened by wavering lamp light. Limbs of trees tossed above those walls, and Danaer could see clearly the delicate spire of Argan's holy temple and the dome of the Guild of the Caravan Routes .. .
The city of the Destre-Y, and he was shut away from it by his oath. A chasm yawned between him
46
and Siank—a chasm a thousand king's-lengths wide and eight years deep.
He goaded the roan and it sprang forward Hke a steed from the hero myths, plunging into the darkness, leaving Siank farther and farther to the rear. Within a few long strides distance blurred torchlight into mist-dimmed rainbows, pale candles against the night.
Danaer had scouted the area thoroughly when he had arrived at the garrison^ and now he bore unerringly for the Zsed. It was not entombed in the foothills, like the fort, nor yet behind walls, like the Destre brothers who dwelt in Siank. With the turn of the seasons, Siank Zsed would follow the numberless herds of the Vrastre and stalk those caravans which had not paid for enough escort. But now, in the spring, hard on the heels of the goddess's festival, the Zsed was tented near the wells and streams northeast of the city. There was little pressure for the Destre encampment to move elsewhere. For three moons. General Nurdanth had let the Zsed remain quiet, as he might a sleeping den of ravenous prey-seekers.
Danaer twisted in the saddle again, focusing on a particular star. From his vantage, the Eye of Sarlos hung directly over Siank's mountain gate. Given that
Yistar and the General were standing at the gates, and Danaer hastily quieted the horse, approaching them sedately. As he endured their inspection, both looked him over carefully, staring for a long moment at his boots. Yistar swallowed a smile, saying nothing, and Danaer's attention shifted anxiously to the commandant.
"It is well," Nurdanth said. "Most well. A fine appearance. Excellent! Do not grow too fond of this animal, however. It is to be a gift ... to our noble adversary, with my compliments."
"I understand, my Lord General."
"Then away with you, and the goddess guard you this night." Yistar bellowed to the gatekeepers, and the men cursed and sweated at the bars. There was a final exchange of salutes and Danaer leaned forward. Alert and responsive, the roan trotted out briskly, leaving the firelit courtyard and moving into the blackness beyond.
SlIRN GORDT TE RaA
The night engulfed Danaer. Though most men would have been lost in such blackness, he found starlight and the dim glow of fort and city sufficient to show the way. Now and then he touched the reins and avoided barricade or pitfall, finally rounding the last of the stoneworks of the garrison's outer defenses. Siank spread out below him, a vista of painted walls and myriad lamps and lofty towers.
Danaer let the roan canter downhill, lured by Siank, the sacred city of the goddess. At sundown, on a much poorer mount, he had ridden this same road. Then his mood had been far different, as he intended to seek the temple and a good inn. That was before he had encountered those hard reminders of his status here. Since leaving Nyald, he had become more than ever suspended between the two peoples, a target for their distrust.
He tried to imagine Siank's walls broken and her Destre pride shattered, and though she had not welcomed him, the prospect brought him deep pain.
The torchlit towers slid past on his right as the stallion followed a beaten trail. Danaer looked again and again at Siank. Like many a youth of the tribes, he once had yearned to make this pilgrimage. Siank—of the green trees and brush nourished by numerous sweet water springs, the life source of the city's security and wealth. Siank shimmered in the night, the legends painted on her white daubed walls softened by wavering lamp light. Limbs of trees tossed above those walls, and Danaer could see clearly the delicate spire of Argan's holy temple and the dome of the Guild of the Caravan Routes .. .
The city of the Destre-Y, and he was shut away from it by his oath. A chasm yawned between him
46
and Siank—a chasm a thousand king's-lengths wide and eight years deep.
He goaded the roan and it sprang forward Hke a steed from the hero myths, plunging into the darkness, leaving Siank farther and farther to the rear. Within a few long strides distance blurred torchlight into mist-dimmed rainbows, pale candles against the night.
Danaer had scouted the area thoroughly when he had arrived at the garrison^ and now he bore unerringly for the Zsed. It was not entombed in the foothills, like the fort, nor yet behind walls, like the Destre brothers who dwelt in Siank. With the turn of the seasons, Siank Zsed would follow the numberless herds of the Vrastre and stalk those caravans which had not paid for enough escort. But now, in the spring, hard on the heels of the goddess's festival, the Zsed was tented near the wells and streams northeast of the city. There was little pressure for the Destre encampment to move elsewhere. For three moons. General Nurdanth had let the Zsed remain quiet, as he might a sleeping den of ravenous prey-seekers.
Danaer twisted in the saddle again, focusing on a particular star. From his vantage, the Eye of Sarlos hung directly over Siank's mountain gate. Given that
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