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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
sufficient to guide the course of the lumbering dray.
His attention shifted to a much closer and more intriguing figure. From his
slouched position he could see only flaming curls and the silver-threaded
shape of her blouse and pants, the latter curving deli-ciously over the back
edge of the wooden seat.
Whether she felt his eyes or not he couldn't tell, but once she glanced
sharply back down at him. Instead of turning embarrassedly away he met her
stare. For a moment they were eye to eye. That was all. No insults this time.
When he stepped further with a slight smile, more from instinct than intent,
she simply turned away. She had not smiled back, but neither had that acid
tongue heaped further abuse on him.
He settled back against the wooden side of the wagon, trying to rest. She was
under a lot of pressure, he told himself. Enough to make anyone edgy and
impolite. No doubt in less dangerous surroundings she was considerably less
antagonistic.
He wondered whether that was likely or if he was simply rationalizing away
behavior that upset him. It was admittedly difficult to attribute such
bellicosity to such a beautiful lady. Not to mention the fact that it was bad
for a delicate male ego.
Shut up, he told himself. You've got more important things to worry about.
Think with your head instead of your gonads. What are you going to tell
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Clothahump when you see him again? It might be best to...
He wondered how old she actually was. Her diminutive size was the norm among
local humans and hinted at nothing. He already knew her age to be close to his
own because she hadn't contradicted his earlier comment about it. She seemed
quite mature, but that could be a normal consequence of a life clearly
somewhat tougher than his own. He also wondered what she would look like
naked, and had reason to question his own maturity.
Think of your surroundings, Meriweather. You're trapped, tired, alone, and in
real danger.
Alone... well, he would try his best to be friends with her, if she'd permit
it.
It was absurd to deny he found her attractive, though every time she opened
her mouth she succeeded in stifling any serious thoughts he might be
developing about extending that hoped-for friendship.
They had to become friends. She was human, and that in itself was enough to
make him homesick and desperate. Maybe when they'd deposited the bodies at
whatever location they were rolling toward she would relax a little.
That prompted him to wonder and worry about just where they were taking their
injured cargo, and what was going to be done with it when they got there.
file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20...n%20-%20Spellsinger%2001%20-%
20Spellsinger.txt (47 of 152) [6/30/03 11:56:35 PM]
file:///F|/rah/Alan%20Dean%20Foster/Foster,%20Alan%20Dean%20-%20Spellsinger%20
01%20-%20Spellsinger.txt
A moan came from beneath the blanket behind him, light and hesitant. He
thought it came from the squirrelquette, though he couldn't be certain.
"There's a doctor out on the edge of town," Talea said in response to his
expression of concern.
"Glad to hear it." So there was at least a shred of soul to complement the
beauty. Good. He watched in silence as a delicately wrought two-wheeled buggy
clop-clopped past their wagon. The two moon-eyed wallabies in the cab were far
too engrossed in each other to so much as glance at the occupants of the
wagon, much less at the lumpy cargo it carried.
Half conscious now, the little squirrel was beginning to kick and roll in
counterpoint to her low moans. If she reawakened fully, things would become
awkward. He resolved that in spite of his desire to make friends with Talea,
he would bolt from the wagon rather than help her inflict any more harm. But
after several minutes the movement subsided, and the unfortunate victim
relapsed into silence.
They'd been traveling for half an hour and were still among buildings. Despite
their plodding pace, it hinted that Lynchbany was a good-sized community. In
fact, it might be even larger than he supposed, since he didn't know if they'd
started from the city center or its outskirts.
A two-story thatched-roof structure of stone and crisscrossed wooden support
beams loomed off to their left. It leaned as if for support up against a much
larger brooding stone building. Several smaller structures that had to be
individual homes stretched off into the distance. A few showed lamps over
their doorways, but most slept peacefully in the clinging mist.
No light showed in the two thick windows of the thatched building as Talea
edged their wagon over close to it and brought it to a halt. The street was
quite empty. The only movement was from the mouths and nostrils of lizards and
passengers, where the increasing chill turned their exhalations to momentarily
thicker, tired fog. He wondered again at the reptiles. Maybe they were hybrids
with warm blood; if not, they were being extremely active for cold-blooded
creatures on such a cold night.
He climbed out of the back of the wagon and looked at the doorway close by. An
engraved sign hung from two hooks over the portal. Letters painted in white
declaimed:
NILANTHOS-PHYSICIAN AND APOTHECARY
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A smaller sign in the near window listed the ailments that could be treated by
the doctor. Some of them were unfamiliar to Jon-Tom, who knew a little of
common disease but nothing whatsoever of veterinary medicine.
Mudge and Talea were both whispering urgently at him. He moved out of the
street and joined them by the door.
It was recessed into the building, roofed over and concealed from the street.
They were hidden from casual view as Talea knocked onee, twice, and then
harder a third time on the milky bubble-glass set into the upper part of the
door. She ignored the louder bellpull.
They waited nervously but no one answered. At least no one passed them in the
street, but an occasional distinct groan was now issuing from the back of the
wagon.
" 'E's not in, 'e ain't." Mudge looked worried. "I know a Doctor Paleetha.
'E's clear across town, though, and I can't say 'ow trustworthy 'e be, but if
we've no one else t' turn t'..."
There were sounds of movement inside and a low complaining voice coming
closer.
It was at that point that Jon-Tom became really scared for the first time
since he'd materialized in this world. His first reactions had been more
disbelief and confusion than fear, and later ones were tied to homesickness
and terror of the unknown.
But now, standing in an alien darkened street, accomplice to assault and
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zanotowane.pldoc.pisz.plpdf.pisz.plcs-sysunia.htw.pl
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