, Brian Daley Coramonde 01 The Doomfarers of Coramonde (v4.2) 

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squinting a bit at indistinct features in the middle distance and beyond.
 It s been the subject of some humor in Court before-times, he said, his
voice firm and full,  that my eyesight is not all it might be. Know, then,
that today I see well enough to reckon who is here and who is not, and who
stood beside my brother and who didn t. You in this room and the others who
conspired with Strongblade are well known to me.
At this many in the chamber went sickly and pale. At least one pair of knees
gave way, those of an aging merchant who had to be steadied by his trembling
wife.
 But you have a hope. I want no more strife and partisanship in Coramonde.
Therefore, let any who wish to gain royal clemency throw themselves with a
will to ensuring justice in the realm, and healing the hurts of war. A time
will come soon when I will personally look into the affairs of each and every
one of you; let none be slack or miserly. Now go, leave me. Spread the
tidings: Springbuck has taken the throne and a new day is come in Coramonde.
* * * *
The besieging army at Freegate was mounting a major assault. A great sow had
been built, a ramming gyn covered with sturdy wood structured by iron and
protected against fire with layers of clay. They were pushing it onto the
bridgeway in front of them as the sun peered over the horizon.
Then a dark figure passed across the sky and fear went through them, as a
bat-winged shape, manlike but larger than any man, alighted on the bridgeway
before them. The demon s pinions swirled for a moment as it deposited its
burden, carried these many miles from Earthfast, and was away with a
victorious scream, free at last of indenturement to mortals.
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Legion-Marshal Novanwyn, directing the advance, recognized Reacher, King of
the free city, standing in their path with a long bundle over his shoulder.
 Strongblade is dead, the Wolf-Brother said in a voice extraordinary, in
him, for its weariness.  And Springbuck isKu-Mor-Mai .
So saying, he flung his bundle out and unrolled it. There was the charred
body of Strongblade, burned ghastly but recognizable in death. Word spread
like sheet lightning through the ranks. Novanwyn said nothing.
 You are commanded to give up this siege and return to Earthfast, Reacher
continued,  and to lift, too, the siege at the Hightower.
The Legion-Marshal had no intention of returning to answer for his conduct to
a new sovereign.  What illusionist s foolishment is this? Whatever trick has
brought you here has mystified our eyes and caused us to imagine the body of
the rightful Suzerain. But I say we ll never abide by your word. Freegate will
fall to us, fall to us this very day, and you ll answer up to our questioning
when my inquisitors have their way with you.
He was about to say on when he went rigid and his eyes widened in surprise.
He pitched to the ground and from his back there stood the hilt of a long
dagger. Behind him was Midwis, his second-in-command, Midwis whose sons
Kanatar and Deotar had been incinerated on this same bridgeway by Yardiff Bey
and who wanted nothing more to do with the sorcerer s affairs.
Midwis turned to the deputy commanders.  Pull back the sow. Form the hosts
for march; we are for the Hightower and Earthfast as soon as we are able.
* * * *
In his new quarters formerly his father s and briefly
Strongblade s Springbuck toyed with the bowie knife he nowadays wore under the
bothersome robes of Court. His Alebowrenian gear stowed in a chest, he still
felt uncomfortable in fine raiments.
Across from him sat Gil MacDonald, nursing a tankard of thick beer, his face
still carrying a puckered, healing scar from the explosion of his carbine, and
his cheek was tattooed from the powder burn. He was meditative, often his
habit these days, searching down inside himself and examining feelings and
thoughts.
On a small study desk were quills, inks, paper and items of reference with
which the new Protector Suzerain was partially at Gil s instigation working on [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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