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twice. "Ollerwell's just a few miles ahead, just across the river, and down
aways. We can buy some fresh food. I don't think we'll be able to get more
trout they tend to fish it out around Ollerwell but maybe some eel, or some of
that bass you find in the lakes up this way. Not beef I mean, they might have
some, but the locals don't eat a lot of beef, and we'd smell of it for days.
We could splurge on a chicken, if "
"Shh." She waved it away, tiredly. "I mean, what do I do now? After we get
back."
I shrugged. "Whatever you want, Andy. Except magic, so I'm told."
For the thousandth time, she took the battered leather volume out of her pack
and opened it.
The letters blurred in front of my eyes, and apparently in front of hers, too.
They would have, even if she hadn't been crying.
* * *
Sometimes I call it right: a farmer at the edge of town had a fire going, and
a fat capon turning over a spit, sending delicious flavors wafting off into
the breeze. We could probably have made a better deal in town, but the
crackling of crisp skin over the coals made me part with a Holtun-Bieme copper
half-mark with Karl's face on it, which bought me a huge chunk of breast (no
comments, please), and Andy an oversized thigh, each served on a fist-sized
loaf of fresh brown bread hot from the oven.
I didn't wait for it to cool, and ended up burning my tongue. It was worth it.
I'd like to report that Andy wolfed hers down with hunger and gusto, but she
just ate as we walked through the village, past a couple dingy rows of
wattle-and-daub houses and onto the northern road.
Another couple of days and we'd be at Buttertop.
"How about you?" she asked.
At first I didn't answer. It took me a moment to realize that she'd picked up
our conversation of hours ago where we had left it off. I hate it when she
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does that.
"Me?" I shrugged. "I think I'd better take it easy for awhile. Spend some time
with the kids, and with
Kirah. You?"
She sighed. "I might go back into teaching. English, basic math, the usual.
Even if some of the Home youngsters do it better than I could. I don't know."
Maybe, just maybe, if I gave Kirah enough patience and attention, maybe that
would do it. Life's like a fight, sometimes; there's times when you have to
commit yourself, to lunge full, all stops out, not worrying about what happens
if it doesn't work. See, you don't just put something of yourself in what you
touch, but you put it in who you touch. After close to twenty years together,
Kirah was part of me, and I wasn't going to cut that out, any more than I'd
throw away my left arm.
* * *
Ellegon found us that night.
I was a bit nervous about camping on the ground close to a road broad enough
to be navigable by stars and faerie lights, so we had moved well off the road,
onto a wooded rise, and slung our hammocks high in a giant old oak tree while
it was still light enough to see.
Actually, I'd done the slinging, and it had only been one hammock. Climbing
was hard enough on Andy, but I picked her branches to make getting in easy for
her. It had been some trouble, but we'd gotten her settled in and pretending
to be asleep, while I climbed farther up the tree and seated myself in a
crotch between two old limbs, too lazy, or maybe too tired to mess with it
all. I just whipped one end of a piece of rope around the tree, and knotted it
in front of my chest, so that if I leaned forward instead of back I
wouldn't fall out and break my neck.
I let the day slip away. What was that old dwarven even-chant? Something
about
That was, of course, the moment that flame would have to flare loud and bright
over the treetops, accompanied by the rustle of leathery wings.
*Wake up, folks. Your ride's here. If you hurry, we can be in Holtun-Bieme in
the morning.*
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
In Which We Decide
What Those Who
Can Do, and Why
It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive.
 ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON
Never come home unexpectedly. It's a break-even proposition, at best.
 WALTER SLOVOTSKY
Ellegon set down quietly outside the walls in the gray light just before dawn.
I slid down his scaly side and landed hard on the hard ground, twisting my
ankle.
"You're getting old, Walter," Andy said, as she lowered herself more gently
down from the dragon's back.
*Happens to the best of them,* the dragon said, turning its broad head to face
the two of us. *So I
understand. What are you going to do now?*
"Me, I'm for bed," I said. "I don't sleep well in the air."
*So I noticed.*
Andy patted at her belly. "I'm going to go eat something, then probably some
sleep. You?"
The dragon walked away, toward the main road, his wings curling and uncurling.
*There's a sheep in the south pasture with my name on it. I'm hungry.*
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It was nice of Ellegon to walk away far enough that we wouldn't be battered by
dust and grit when he took off. Although, at this point, that would have been
wetting a river.
*In that case . . .* the dragon leaped into the air, leathery wings sending
dust and grit into the air to batter at my eyes and face.
"Me and my big mouth," I said.
Andy didn't answer.
The watchman at the main gate let us in through the small-door; we waved aside
his offer to wake a welcoming committee. I just wanted to look in on my kids [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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