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.Patyin? Andwith the name, suddenly the music she thought she knew so well was adiscordant noise, it took her breath and slammed it to the back of her throat.Hands over her ears, she sank to her knees, but it didn’t stop.There was thesame noise in the motion of the vass’lt’s knife as he took it from the Bearer, the green cords attached to the handle floated in time.The same noise to the leafshaped blade as it wove in and about in the ritual challenge to the Initiate.Beside her, there was a quick movement of the air and she heard the clinking sound ofthe wrist-cuffs.And she knew she was about to die.Until Niv moved first.The whole thing had been created out of pattern energies except for the threeof them and the vass’lt.And over the blood from the dead man she smelled thefear in Niv for what he’d done, even as he took hers away.The Overpriest’stass’alt held her -- made love to her -- as the killing ground of Temple, thecentral spiral, as it all faded from around them, leaving a plain stone room in the pavilion on the path that lead to Ri-altar.And the Overpriest had let her live.Laurel Hickeywww.2morrow.bc.caEye of the Ocean – Book 1: RiBolda folded back the shutters to show daylight, a strip of pale green sky.“Breakfast is on the tray by the bath over there,” he said, nodding towards theother end of the room.“Looks like you got more sleep than I did.”“Are you complaining? Or asking if I have reason to?”He snorted, but a laugh came through.“You must have charms that right now,escape me.”She sat up in the bed and let the cover slide to the floor.Cool air raised frost-bumps on her bare skin.“He asked me to kill him.Was that your plan? That I kill him?”Another snort.“Which of the messages here am I supposed to be impressedwith?”“Just tell me if it’s over.”“Hell if I know.Get yourself dressed, it’s late.Do you need a Steward?”Ulanda shook her head and after a long, silent look that she returned assilently, he shrugged and left.At the far end of the room, the parquet floor gave way to green tile and a pool, the water steaming in the cool air.She was in the water when the Trill’konwoman she recognized from the day before brought an armful of clothes,smoothed them out on the bed, then picked up those she and Garm had let fall.The underrobe a simple slip-on shift with full sleeves, and the outer robecrossed in front and fastened at either side with stick-spots.A brown weave with a twist of blue-gray thread and cut on the bias so that the fabric fell from her hips in soft folds.The cloth felt strange, it seemed to sift under her hands as shesmoothed it down and she wondered if it really did, or if the almost waxy texture only made her think so.She had no idea what the fabric was made of.The shiftwas a very good quality silk, a soft gray-blue, and she was glad it didn’t allow any of the overrobe to touch her skin.In touching the thin cloth of the underrobe to adjust the fastening, an imagecame to her as though from a subtle Net lead, teasing her into noticing, thenstole her attention.The color was lavender blue, not simply gray-blue.Smoke on a mist ridden morning, lavender flowers dried, then wet again, on long brittlestems and still sweet.An image and more.The flowers stripped off to be crushed between her fingers into a sodden pulp, the smell making her want to sneeze.Winter air, and melting snow on winter-gray leaves, and snow mounding over theshapes of bricks set in a fan pattern in the courtyard and one pair of footprints showing ochre on the path.The Empress’s clothes and her memory as well, a residue of pattern energiessimilar to what she must have picked up in those couple of glimpses she had ofthe rug.What Garm had been looking for.Cassa.Laurel Hickeywww.2morrow.bc.caEye of the Ocean – Book 1: RiShe pushed the image away by chanting a mantra under her breath, onefashioned as a simple distracter.How much of any of what she had just seen wasreal, Ulanda wondered again, still smelling the lavender although she hadvanquished the image.Something to scent a page and a color, something forprivate letters, or poetry.There were braids to match the overrobe, full-length strands of exquisite silkcording.A single colour, but in a textured weave, with a surface of little knots.Secondary size braids, each thread of the braid was another cord.They weresomething that a Priest would have as decorative overbraids on their wrists.She had one strand still in her hand when the door opened.Garm took the strand from her then picked the others up off the bed.“Ts^lisshouldn’t have brought these.” Drawing them repeatedly through his hands, heseemed to have forgotten she was there.Or didn’t care.She couldn’t tell what he was thinking -- or, more importantly,what he was feeling.“What’s the pattern called?” she asked.Mild green eyes were raised to hers.Disinterested eyes.“Ask Bolda.”“They feel like dried lavender, like the tiny dried flowers around the stem.”But there were fingers against her mouth.“Lavender.,” she started but stopped in confusion.His fingers tasted oflavender.“So you said.” He kissed her lightly on her forehead, then moving his fingers,on her lips.“Did I mistake your disinterest?” she breathed into his mouth [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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