[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Grimly the two circled, each looking for an opening in the other's defense.
Fax plowed in, trying to comer the lighter, faster man between raised platform
and wall.
F'lar countered, ducking low under Fax's flailing arm, slashing obliquely
across Fax's side. The overlord caught at him, yanking savagely, and F'lar was
trapped against the other man's side, straining desperately with his left hand
to keep the knife arm up. F'lar brought up his knee, and ducked away as Fax
gasped and buckled from the pain in his groin, but Fax struck in passing.
Sudden fire laced F'lar's left shoulder.
Fax's face was red with anger and he wheezed from pain and shock. But the
infuriated lord straightened up and charged. F'lar was forced to sidestep
quickly before Fax could close with him. F'lar put the meat table between
them, circling warily, flexing his shoulder to assess the extent of the
knife's slash. It was painful, but the arm could be used.
Suddenly Fax scooped up some fatty scraps from the meat tray and buried them
at F'lar. The dragonman ducked and Fax came around the table with a rush.
F'lar leaped sideways. Fax's flashing blade came within inches of his ab-
domen, as his own knife sliced down the outside of Fax's arm. Instantly the
two pivoted to face each other again, but
Pax's left arm hung limply at his side.
F'lar darted in, pressing his luck as the Lord of the High
Reaches staggered. But F'lar misjudged the man's condition and suffered a
Page 21
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
terrific kick in the side as he tried to dodge under the feinting knife.
Doubled with pain, F'lar rolled frantically away from his charging adversary.
Fax was lurch-
ing forward, trying to fall on him, to pin the lighter dragon-
man down for a final thrust. Somehow F'lar got to his feet, attempting to
straighten to meet Fax's stumbling charge. His very position saved him. Fax
over-reached his mark and staggered off balance. F'lar brought his right hand
over with as much strength as he could muster and his blade plunged through
Fax's unprotected back until he felt the point stick in the chest plate.
The defeated lord fell flat to the flagstones. The force of
his descent dislodged the dagger from his chestbone and an inch of bloody
blade re-emerged.
F'lar stared down at the dead man. There was no pleasure in killing, he
realized, only relief that he himself was still alive. He wiped his forehead
on his sleeve and forced him-
self erect, his side throbbing with the pain of that last kick and his left
shoulder burning. He half-stumbled to the drudge, still sprawled where she had
fallen.
He gently turned her over, noting the terrible bruise spreading across her
cheek under the dirty skin. He heard
F'nor take command of the tumult in the Hall.
The dragonman laid a hand, trembling in spite of an ef-
fort to control himself, on the woman's breast to feel for a heartbeat . . .
It was there, slow but strong.
A deep sigh escaped him for either blow or fall could have proved fatal.
Fatal, perhaps, for Pern as well.
Relief was colored with disgust. There was no telling under the filth how old
this creature might be. He raised her in his arms, her light body no burden
even to his battle-weary strength. Knowing F'nor would handle any trouble
efficient-
ly, F'lar carried the drudge to his own chamber.
Putting the body on the high bed, he stirred up the fire and added more glows
to the bedside bracket. His gorge rose at the thought of touching the filthy
mat of hair but none-
theless and gently, he pushed it back from the face, turning the head this way
and that. The features were small, regular.
One arm, clear of rags, was reasonably clean above the elbow but marred by
bruises and old scars. The skin was firm and unwrinkled. The hands, when he
took them in his, were filthy but well-shaped and delicately boned.
F'lar began to smile. Yes, she had blurred that hand so skillfully that he had
actually doubted what he had first seen.
And yes, beneath grime and grease, she was young. Young enough for the Weyr.
And no born drab. There was no taint of common blood here. It was pure, no
matter whose the line, and he rather thought she was indeed Ruathan. One
who had by some unknown agency escaped the massacre ten
Turns ago and bided her time for revenge. Why else force
Fax to renounce the Hold?
Delighted and fascinated by this unexpected luck, F'lar reached out to tear
the dress from the unconscious body and found himself constrained not to. The
girl had roused. Her great, hungry eyes fastened on his, not fearful or
expectant;
wary.
A subtle change occurred in her face. F'lar watched, his smile deepening, as
she shifted her regular features into an illusion of disagreeable ugliness and
great age.
"Trying to confuse a dragonman, girl?" he chuckled. He made no further move to
touch her but settled against the great carved post of the bed. He crossed his
arms sternly on his chest, thought better of it immediately, and eased his
Page 22
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
sore arm. "Your name, girl, and rank, too."
She drew herself upright slowly against the headboard, her features no longer
blurred. They faced each other across the high bed.
"Fax?"
"Dead. Your name!"
A look of exulting triumph flooded her face. She slipped from the bed,
standing unexpectedly tall. "Then I reclaim my own. I am of the Ruathan Blood.
I claim Ruath," she [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]