Read Online To Green Angel Tower, Volume 1 by Tad Williams - Free Book Online Page A

but moving, always moving. Earl Aspitis wasn’t a bad man. True, he did not treat her with quite the same solicitude as he had a fortnight ago, but still he spoke kindly—that is, when she did as he wished. So she would do as he wished. She would float like an abandoned spar, unresisting, until time and events dropped her onto land again....
    A hand touched the sleeve of her dress. She jumped, surprised, and turned to find Gan Itai standing beside her. The Niskie’s intricately wrinkled face was impassive, but her gold-flecked eyes, though sun-shaded, seemed to glitter.
    “I did not mean to startle you, girl.” She moved up to the rail beside Miriamele and together they stared out over the restless water.
    “When there’s no land in sight,” Miriamele said at last, “you might as well be sailing off the edge of the world. I mean, it seems as if there might not be any land anywhere.”
    The Niskie nodded. Her fine white hair fluttered around her face. “Sometimes, at night, when I am up on the deck alone and singing, I feel as though I am crossing the Ocean Indefinite and Eternal, the one my people crossed to come to this land. They say that ocean was black as tar, but the wave crests glowed like pearl.”
    As she spoke, Gan Itai extended her hand and clasped Miriamele’s palm. Startled and unsure of what to do, the princess did not resist, but continued to stare out to sea. A moment later the Niskie’s long, leathery fingers pushed something into her hand.
    “The sea can be a lonely place.” Gan Itai continued as though unaware of what her own hand was doing. “Very lonely. It is hard to find friends. It is hard to know who can be trusted.” The Niskie’s hand dropped away, disappearing back into the wide sleeves of her robe. “I hope you will discover folk you can trust . . . Lady Marya.” The pause before Miriamele’s false name was unmistakable.
    “So do I,” said the princess, flustered. “Ah.” Gan Itai nodded. A smile tilted her thin mouth. “You look a little pale. Perhaps the wind is too much for you. Perhaps you should go to your cabin.” The Niskie inclined her head briefly, then walked away, bare brown feet carrying her artfully across the rocking deck.
    Miriamele watched her go, then looked up to the tiller where Earl Aspitis stood talking to the steersman. The earl lifted his arm to free himself from his golden cloak, which the wind had wrapped about him. He saw Miriamele and smiled briefly, then returned to his conversation. Nothing about his smile was unusual, except perhaps its perfunctory quality, but Miriamele suddenly felt chilled to the heart. She clutched the curl of parchment in her fist more tightly, fearful that the wind might pull it loose from her grasp and send it fluttering right up to Aspitis. She had no idea what it was, but somehow she knew beyond doubt that she did not want him to see it.
    Miriamele forced herself to walk slowly across the deck, using her empty hand to clutch the rail. She was not nearly so steady as Gan Itai had been.

    In the dim cabin, Miriamele carefully uncurled the parchment. She had to hold it up beside the candle flame to read the tiny, crabbed letters.
    I have done many wrongs,
    she read,
    and I know you no longer trust me, but please believe that these words are honest. I have been many people, none of them satisfactory. Padreic was a fool, Cadrach a rogue. Perhaps I can become something better before I die.
    She wondered where he had gotten the parchment and ink, and decided that the Niskie must have brought it to him. As she stared at the labored script, Miriamele thought of the monk’s weak arms weighted by chains. She felt a stab of pity—what agony it must have been for him to write this! But why could he not leave her alone? Why could no one simply let her be?
    If you are reading this, then Gan Itai has done as she promised. She is the only one on this ship you can trust . . . except perhaps for me. I know that I have cheated and