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whether a ghost can or cannot see at night."
"Shush," Cassini hissed. "He might hear."
"I'd almost rather he did," Janos said, "If we creep up on him, he's sure to think we're his enemy." But
this came as a whisper just the same. Cassini motioned for the bulky pack I carried. I upended it, and a
thick bunch of dry weed tumbled out. Cassini uncorked a flask he carried on a string tied about his naked
hips and slowly poured a foul-smelling liquid on the weed. He whispered an enchantment, and I saw
something glow deep inside the mass of weed. A flame flickered, and as it burst into a roaring flame,
Cassini quickly kicked the whole mass over the side.
We watched it fall, but instead of diminishing from our view, the fire grew larger until it seemed to fill the
rift from side to side. Then it bounced, exploded into black, greasy smoke, and came to rest. Apparently
the abyss was not so bottomless after all. I peered down. My stomach gave a lurch, for bottomless or
not, it was still a great distance. Janos uncoiled his rope. "I'll go first," he said, to my relief.
"What if this isn't the right spot?" I asked. Janos merely pointed. Beyond the fire I saw my answer in a
flash of metal. It must be the warrior.
Going second was small consolation. We had to tie all three ropes together, and it was still short by at
least the height of three men. But before I could comment, Janos looped our lifeline about a boulder and
swung over the side. He quickly slid down, reached the end, kicked away from the side, and dropped. I
heard him whisper a chant and saw the glow of light beads. I followed, my hands slipping on the sweat
Janos' grip had left. It should have been easy. I was skilled at such things, as I mentioned before, but I
was no more than a third of the way down when hopelessness struck me. I looked down, and suddenly
the light on the canyon floor seemed immeasurably far. The gap of three men's height suddenly became
twenty, then a hundred. The surface of the rope turned to slime, and I plunged down at a great speed. I
kicked out
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to slow my fall, but the rock my feet shattered into pebbles and dust.
Janos shouted, and his shout gave my fingers strength until they bit through the slime, and I came to a
jolting stop. My hands burned with the heat of the fall, and my body felt like it had been gripped by a
great weight. Then I realized my eyes were closed and opened them. First I saw Cassini's face peering
down, pale in the moonlight, eyes wide. Oddly, his face did not seem that far away. Then I looked down.
I was the same distance from the bottom as I had been before the fall.
"It's only in your mind," Janos called, anxiously. "A spell left by the warrior's friends."
I wanted to cry out: What do I do? I am no sorcerer. Cassini emptied a pouch over the side, and I saw
the glitter of magic dust floating toward me. Soon I will be safe, I thought, but as the dust descended I
knew it would not reach me until it was too late. The feeling of hopelessness caught at my gut again, and I
felt my fingers slipping. I heard a voice, just at my ear. "Amalric," it whispered. "Do not fear."
"Halab?" I cried, for I thought it was my brother.
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"Light as the air," the voice said. "Quick as a falcon, on the hunt."
The helplessness fled, my fingers found their grip, and then the dust was falling across my shoulders. I
broke out of the spell like a drowning man kicking his way to air. I swung down the rope as easily as a
tree dweller. At its bitter end I dropped the rest of the way and came lightly to my feet. Janos put a hand
on my shoulder. "Are you all right, Amalric?" he asked. For a moment I thought his voice was the one
that had whispered in my ear. 'Take a care," Janos said. "Cassini's coming down." And now there
seemed to be no similarity at all. I stepped aside as Cassini dropped beside us. Now it didn't matter
whose voice it was, for the spell was broken, and we were all safe on the floor of the bottomless abyss.
There was no time for self-congratulation, for the silence was broken by the splash of falling liquid. A
long moment later we heard another splash, then another. The sound came from where the ancient
warrior had fallen. No sooner had we puzzled this out than a most wondrous odor arose, sweeter than
any flower, richer than any courtesan's perfume. We walked tentatively toward the sound and scent.
The warrior's body lay broken across a large, flat stone. His corpse could be clearly seen in the light of
Cassini's purifying fire. Janos muttered something, and although I couldn't make out
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his words, I knew he was reacting to the shape of the armor and helm the corpse was wearing. It was
exactly as he had described the horsemen of his childhood. The warrior had been a large man, taller even
than Janos, with wide shoulders and thick chest. He had a beaked face, like a bird of prey, with
deep-set, still-open eyes that seemed permanently set to peer into vast distances. There was a sword
strapped to his waist, and a broken spear lay to one side. His body shone a deep, earthen brown, as if
he had been daubed with many layers of paint.
Cassini pointed upward, and we saw a thick drop of heavy liquid form on a rock that hung above the
corpse. It gathered into a bead and splashed down on the warrior. As it broke, the sweet odor rose
again, and we watched in fascination as the drop spread across the warrior, leaving a brown trail like
heavy oil. Janos motioned us closer, and we could see that the body had been covered and preserved by
the liquid falling over many generations. The man grimaced up at us, his look as painfully fresh as the
moment he'd died.
"I've seen insects preserved like this," Janos said, "but only in old forests. The local people said they
were trapped in the sap running from the trees; they sell them as talismans when the liquid dries. It's
called amber, I believe." Janos touched the preserved body, curious. "A warrior in amber," he mused.
"I don't see any trees here," I said. "Only stone."
"It is obviously a spell his companions cast," Cassini said, "to preserve their comrade from the elements.
Since he could not be properly laid to rest, they did what they could to comfort his ghost."
Cassini filled a gourd with coals from his purifying fire and shook it over the corpse. Sparks and smoke
showered as Cassini moved around the stone, chanting soothing words to placate the warrior's ghost. He
promised a handsome shrine, with many gifts from the Shore People to honor him. In the shadows I
heard a long sigh. The warrior's eyes seemed to glitter, then went blank. We took this as acceptance, and [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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