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.How couldshe ever track Gavril down in this chaos? She halted, closing her eyes, willing his image into her mind,keeping all her thoughts fixed on him and him alone.When she opened her eyes again, the others hadfaded and were nothing now but whispering shadows.She passed on through the echoing vaults of thehall, trying to block out the whisper-voices of the newly dead.And all the time, the pain in her heartburned like a brand.Her feet dragged.For when she found him here, as find him she must, she wouldknow for sure that her life had lost all meaning.She had no idea how long she had been wandering onward through the gloomy vastness of the hall whenshe found herself facing a tall portico.Shreds of mist fluttered and flapped like gauze curtains across theopening. Where are you, Gavril? she cried. Why can t I find you? Well? asked a soft voice.Rain glistened on the rocks and slowly dripped from the stunted branches ofa sea pine overhead.Kaspar Linnaius was regarding her inquiringly with his cloud-pale eyes.She shivered. No, she said.Her mind was still filled with the pleading voices of the newly dead. Therewere so many, so very many& He nodded. Perhaps your trance was not deep enough to take you where he has gone. She glared at him. Are you suggesting I m not skilled enough to find him? But he had spoken the truthand she resented it; she had never undertaken such a search before. What do you know of such things? You must not abandon your search so easily.You must go further in. She opened her mouth to make another retort but realized that he was right.She must try again.If only tosay one last farewell&Kaspar Linnaius stood looking down at Kiukiu.Her voice, so strong at first, was fading slowly to awhisper as her fingers ceased to pluck the strings of the gusly.Such potent music.Even he, whounderstood little of the crude and dangerous magic of the Azhkendi shamans, sensed its energy andpower.Her voice died, her head drooped forward, and her fingers rested loosely on the metal strings.She wasout of her body now, lost in the singing-trance.He must act now and swiftly.Her grandmother s influence was far too strong in Azhkendir; here, at least, he could work his glamouron her without fear of interference.He drew from inside his robe an alchymist s crystal glass, fashioned like a teardrop.The waveringdaylight, penetrating the thin, high clouds, spun a swirl of rainbows in the heart of the glass.It was this forbidden use of his art soul-stealing that had brought about the closure of theThaumaturgical College in Francia and the inquisition and deaths of his fellow mages.The Guslyars ofAzhkendir talked with the spirits of the dead, but the Francian magi had learned how to imprison thesouls of the living. He leaned closer to Kiukiu, listening to the gentle, regular rhythm of her breathing, raising the soul-glasstoward her lips. Now, he whispered, now you are mine, Kiukirilya. CHAPTERPavel Velemir tried to shift into a position that would ease the crippling stiffness in his back and legs.Hiscaptors had somehow contrived to chain him so that he could hardly move.Kneeling was difficult andstanding impossible, except in a ludicrously stooped position.He let a slow sigh escape his lips.He had known it would not be easy to be accepted as one of the Smarnan rebels.But he had notplanned on being chained up in the Old Citadel with other Tielen prisoners who, one by one, were beingtaken out into the courtyard to be shot.Now, of the few who remained, one sat white-faced in a dazedstupor, another mumbled prayers over and over under his breath, and a third was so terrified that fearhad loosened his bowels with the inevitable disagreeable results.Poor devils.As the day wore on, the heat and the smell grew more and more offensive.Even though the citadel wallswere at least a foot thick, the Tielens had blasted so many holes in them that they let in the fierce middaysun.Pavel leaned back against the shrapnel-pitted stone and closed his eyes.He had planned on usingthe Disgraced at the Winter Palace story from the Mirom Journal as his alibi, but now he realized thatthe rebels had been so caught up with their own troubles, his exploits in Mirom would be of nosignificance to them whatsoever.He would have to think fast if he was to escape the firing squad.What would you have done in my place, Uncle Feodor?And then he heard a girl s voice, passionate and young, raised in argument with the guards. You were wrong about Gavril Andar, Iovan! How many more mistakes are you going to make? My conscience is clear. The rebel girl with the short-cropped hair.He had seen her giving a cup of water to a sick prisoner.She,at least, showed some compassion.What was her name& Raisa? Was she his salvation?Iovan appeared in the doorway, carbine in hand.He came straight up to Pavel. Get up. He proddedPavel with the end of his carbine barrel.Pavel tried to stand, but the shackles pulled him back down to his knees. This one isn t in Tielen uniform.Why did you arrest him? asked a strong, resonant voice. Lukan! cried Raisa, hurrying to the newcomer s side.Pavel looked up and saw another man looking down at him.He was strong-featured, sunburned, with awild head of silvered black hair.The others, even Iovan, deferred to him, so he must be one of theleaders. What is your name? Lukan asked him. Pavel Velemir. They tell me you come from Muscobar. Lukan s face swam in and out of focus. What are you doingin Smarna? I came to join you. I see. Lukan glanced at Iovan. And why should we trust you? You could be a spy. Why? Pavel said. Because I am a fugitive from the Emperor s tyranny. You? burst out Iovan, his voice sour with scorn. Because I was working in the diplomatic service before I was publicly disgraced.Because I know thingsthat you cannot possibly know about the plans of Eugene and his ministers. Lukan glanced at Iovan again.Pavel saw uncertainty in the look that passed between them. He s bluffing, said Iovan. But what if he s telling the truth? Raisa cried. What if he really has come from Muscobar to help us? I And what if he s a Tielen double agent? Eugene s spies are everywhere.And remember, Raisa? weshoot spies. Do something, Lukan! Raisa pleaded, ignoring her brother.Lukan s forehead was still furrowed, the expression in his dark eyes wary. Bring him to the council chamber.Let him make his case to the other Wardens of the Citadel. Iovan put finger and thumb to his lips and let out a piercing whistle.Two of the militia, who had beenlounging around smoking tobacco, hastily put down their pipes and came over. Prisoner to the council chamber, Iovan ordered. Now. Three men and a woman sat at a long table in the blast-damaged chamber.A shaft of golden afternoonsun, sparkling with dust motes, shone down from a ragged hole in the roof.It dazzled Pavel so that hecould only make out the shadowy outlines of his inquisitors.Lukan crossed the wide chamber swiftly and leaned down to confer with the wardens. Bring the man calling himself Pavel Velemir before us, said the woman at the table.Iovan tugged hard on the chain around Pavel s ankles; Pavel staggered, almost losing his balance, thenlurched forward to stand before the wardens. We are the elected Wardens of the Citadel. The woman spoke briskly. My name is Nina Vashteli,Minister of Justice in Vermeille.You claim to bring us intelligence of the New Rossiyan government Ready aim fire! A fusillade of shots rang out from the courtyard below [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.How couldshe ever track Gavril down in this chaos? She halted, closing her eyes, willing his image into her mind,keeping all her thoughts fixed on him and him alone.When she opened her eyes again, the others hadfaded and were nothing now but whispering shadows.She passed on through the echoing vaults of thehall, trying to block out the whisper-voices of the newly dead.And all the time, the pain in her heartburned like a brand.Her feet dragged.For when she found him here, as find him she must, she wouldknow for sure that her life had lost all meaning.She had no idea how long she had been wandering onward through the gloomy vastness of the hall whenshe found herself facing a tall portico.Shreds of mist fluttered and flapped like gauze curtains across theopening. Where are you, Gavril? she cried. Why can t I find you? Well? asked a soft voice.Rain glistened on the rocks and slowly dripped from the stunted branches ofa sea pine overhead.Kaspar Linnaius was regarding her inquiringly with his cloud-pale eyes.She shivered. No, she said.Her mind was still filled with the pleading voices of the newly dead. Therewere so many, so very many& He nodded. Perhaps your trance was not deep enough to take you where he has gone. She glared at him. Are you suggesting I m not skilled enough to find him? But he had spoken the truthand she resented it; she had never undertaken such a search before. What do you know of such things? You must not abandon your search so easily.You must go further in. She opened her mouth to make another retort but realized that he was right.She must try again.If only tosay one last farewell&Kaspar Linnaius stood looking down at Kiukiu.Her voice, so strong at first, was fading slowly to awhisper as her fingers ceased to pluck the strings of the gusly.Such potent music.Even he, whounderstood little of the crude and dangerous magic of the Azhkendi shamans, sensed its energy andpower.Her voice died, her head drooped forward, and her fingers rested loosely on the metal strings.She wasout of her body now, lost in the singing-trance.He must act now and swiftly.Her grandmother s influence was far too strong in Azhkendir; here, at least, he could work his glamouron her without fear of interference.He drew from inside his robe an alchymist s crystal glass, fashioned like a teardrop.The waveringdaylight, penetrating the thin, high clouds, spun a swirl of rainbows in the heart of the glass.It was this forbidden use of his art soul-stealing that had brought about the closure of theThaumaturgical College in Francia and the inquisition and deaths of his fellow mages.The Guslyars ofAzhkendir talked with the spirits of the dead, but the Francian magi had learned how to imprison thesouls of the living. He leaned closer to Kiukiu, listening to the gentle, regular rhythm of her breathing, raising the soul-glasstoward her lips. Now, he whispered, now you are mine, Kiukirilya. CHAPTERPavel Velemir tried to shift into a position that would ease the crippling stiffness in his back and legs.Hiscaptors had somehow contrived to chain him so that he could hardly move.Kneeling was difficult andstanding impossible, except in a ludicrously stooped position.He let a slow sigh escape his lips.He had known it would not be easy to be accepted as one of the Smarnan rebels.But he had notplanned on being chained up in the Old Citadel with other Tielen prisoners who, one by one, were beingtaken out into the courtyard to be shot.Now, of the few who remained, one sat white-faced in a dazedstupor, another mumbled prayers over and over under his breath, and a third was so terrified that fearhad loosened his bowels with the inevitable disagreeable results.Poor devils.As the day wore on, the heat and the smell grew more and more offensive.Even though the citadel wallswere at least a foot thick, the Tielens had blasted so many holes in them that they let in the fierce middaysun.Pavel leaned back against the shrapnel-pitted stone and closed his eyes.He had planned on usingthe Disgraced at the Winter Palace story from the Mirom Journal as his alibi, but now he realized thatthe rebels had been so caught up with their own troubles, his exploits in Mirom would be of nosignificance to them whatsoever.He would have to think fast if he was to escape the firing squad.What would you have done in my place, Uncle Feodor?And then he heard a girl s voice, passionate and young, raised in argument with the guards. You were wrong about Gavril Andar, Iovan! How many more mistakes are you going to make? My conscience is clear. The rebel girl with the short-cropped hair.He had seen her giving a cup of water to a sick prisoner.She,at least, showed some compassion.What was her name& Raisa? Was she his salvation?Iovan appeared in the doorway, carbine in hand.He came straight up to Pavel. Get up. He proddedPavel with the end of his carbine barrel.Pavel tried to stand, but the shackles pulled him back down to his knees. This one isn t in Tielen uniform.Why did you arrest him? asked a strong, resonant voice. Lukan! cried Raisa, hurrying to the newcomer s side.Pavel looked up and saw another man looking down at him.He was strong-featured, sunburned, with awild head of silvered black hair.The others, even Iovan, deferred to him, so he must be one of theleaders. What is your name? Lukan asked him. Pavel Velemir. They tell me you come from Muscobar. Lukan s face swam in and out of focus. What are you doingin Smarna? I came to join you. I see. Lukan glanced at Iovan. And why should we trust you? You could be a spy. Why? Pavel said. Because I am a fugitive from the Emperor s tyranny. You? burst out Iovan, his voice sour with scorn. Because I was working in the diplomatic service before I was publicly disgraced.Because I know thingsthat you cannot possibly know about the plans of Eugene and his ministers. Lukan glanced at Iovan again.Pavel saw uncertainty in the look that passed between them. He s bluffing, said Iovan. But what if he s telling the truth? Raisa cried. What if he really has come from Muscobar to help us? I And what if he s a Tielen double agent? Eugene s spies are everywhere.And remember, Raisa? weshoot spies. Do something, Lukan! Raisa pleaded, ignoring her brother.Lukan s forehead was still furrowed, the expression in his dark eyes wary. Bring him to the council chamber.Let him make his case to the other Wardens of the Citadel. Iovan put finger and thumb to his lips and let out a piercing whistle.Two of the militia, who had beenlounging around smoking tobacco, hastily put down their pipes and came over. Prisoner to the council chamber, Iovan ordered. Now. Three men and a woman sat at a long table in the blast-damaged chamber.A shaft of golden afternoonsun, sparkling with dust motes, shone down from a ragged hole in the roof.It dazzled Pavel so that hecould only make out the shadowy outlines of his inquisitors.Lukan crossed the wide chamber swiftly and leaned down to confer with the wardens. Bring the man calling himself Pavel Velemir before us, said the woman at the table.Iovan tugged hard on the chain around Pavel s ankles; Pavel staggered, almost losing his balance, thenlurched forward to stand before the wardens. We are the elected Wardens of the Citadel. The woman spoke briskly. My name is Nina Vashteli,Minister of Justice in Vermeille.You claim to bring us intelligence of the New Rossiyan government Ready aim fire! A fusillade of shots rang out from the courtyard below [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]