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She found several, after perusing the book for so long that Brand had vanished by the time she finished. She looked around, startled, for the firebird, and found Brand finally, standing inside the ice-cave, shivering, listening to the heart of power. The path she chose ended in one of the massive tumbles of stone. The winds smelled hot and dry there, as if they were about to burst into flame. She felt no heartbeat, but an odd shifting underfoot as if the earth were falling away like sand in an hourglass. The stones trembled a little. Nyx looked up, gripping Brand, in case she had to open a door into thin air and leave before a boulder flattened them. The bulky jumble resolved, as her eye travelled upward, into high, airy walls, half-broken turrets, moonlit windows. It s a palace, she breathed. It s just stones, Brand said. His voice was tense again; the moon was continuing its inexorable climb toward midnight. What does Chrysom say about this dragon? It is red as flame and breathes flame. However, when it understood him to be harmless, it ceased its baleful attack and permitted him to come close. Its eye, Chrysom said, seemed a portal through which he might walk. What does that mean? It s enormous. What else? Did it speak? It lies within a ring of fire. Did it speak? The point is: You can t survive attack by fire. Chrysom did. Chrysom was a mage. Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html Did it speak? he asked again, patiently, and-she sighed, It made, Chrysom said, overtures of interest in a language he found fascinating but obscure. Meaning what? I m not sure. It could be my grandfather, Brand said hopefully. If it saw one human, it would have known what my grandmother was, when it saw her centuries later. How did she find it? Nyx asked, puzzled. Or did it find her? Did it walk its own path of time into Saphier out of some peculiar longing for a human heir to its powers? No one knows, Brand said. She was a warriormage, like my father, very powerful, though she did not train mages. She must have come looking for dragons; the dragon may have let her find it. But I wonder why. Perhaps, like Chrysom, it was very powerful and very curious. Perhaps it liked to travel. It had seen humans before, and it approached your grandmother in that shape so not to frighten her. She shook her head. It doesn t sound like this dragon. This one likes sleeping in the hearth fire; it doesn t travel. More dragons than my grandmother s must have travelled, Brand pointed out. Legends of dragons have come out of the Luxour for centuries. You saw my father s dragon-room. Some of the things are very old. How many dragons would it take to produce a legend? He hesitated. None, he admitted. Some say the only dragon ever seen was by a mage having a bad dream on the Luxour. But they re here, he said softly, fiercely. Even I can feel them. Chrysom saw them. Yes. Then find another. One I can see with you. It may recognize my grandmother in me. She had long black hair and blue eyes. His hand closed lightly on her arm. Please. I m in no shape to worry about risks. She opened the book again. The next path ended under the earth. They stood in a starless black, surrounded by thunder. Nyx, casting a mage-light so Brand could see, found water everywhere, dark rivers and cataracts tearing at the reflection of her light. The mage-light hollowed a vast cavern around them; its walls and ceiling receded into shadows. Brand, his face teared with water from a misty, roaring waterfall, asked incredulously, Are we still in the desert? Chrysom says so. She looked around, her hair shining with jewels of water. How strange ... It s as if the dragons create their own small worlds within the Luxour. Drawn to the plunging water, he missed a step in the shadows; she heard him splash. What does he say Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html about this one? She consulted the book again. This dragon is white as bone, with eyes like blue water. It recognized the human form. It is a shape-changer, an imitator, capable of taking any form Brand opened his mouth; she held up her hand. It is quite old and transforms slowly, with much effort now. It breathes a kind of incandescence that shrouds it as it sleeps. The mist itself is a form of power. It seems to be a subtle labyrinth, a time-trap in which the unwary might easily become lost, if the dragon does not wish to be disturbed. Apparently Chrysom chanced on it at the right time. Does it speak? It has, Chrysom says, the power of communication. Then let s communicate with it, Brand said tersely. Nyx looked past the book in her hand, at his set, tense face. It may know my grandfather, at least. Well, she said after a moment, I suppose it s pointless to be cautious now. It also takes up time. At least, if we re both trapped, I won t have to explain to your father what happened to you. Chrysom wasn t cautious, he reminded her. And he lived to write the book. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |