Joel Rosenberg KOTHW 03 The Crimson Sky

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I just don't think you can." The ring pulsed against his finger, painfully
hard, so much so that he was surprised that the finger didn't start to swell
from the lack of circulation.
"I think he's right," Arnie said. "It just looks too, I don't know, too
something too substantial, maybe? to heal so quickly." He tore open a sterile
sponge and dried off the wound, ignoring the small amount of suppuration. "But
I guess it's worth a try."
She seemed puzzled, but then nodded. "Let me see." Her hands were soft and
warm against his ankle. Gently, slowly, she cupped one hand over the wound,
and the other under the other side of his ankle.
You can't do it,he thought. Itwon't work. There is something wrong, and
you'can't heal me now. Maybe you're getting old, maybe my body is just
rejecting your help, or maybe it's something else entirely, but you can't heal
me, not now. It's hopeless.
Harbard's ring was tight against his finger, at least in his mind, although
he wouldn't have been able to tell by looking at it, and when he forced his
hand to clench, it closed without difficulty.
The pulsations came faster and faster, the interval between them shorter and
shorter, until they merged into an ongoing painful tightness that only relaxed
when Freya shook her head, released his ankle, and with a puzzled shake of the
head, sat back.
"That was frustrating," she said. She looked at his ankle again, and again at
her hands. A streak of wet red blood and pieces of dark clotting lay spread
across her right palm. She rubbed her two hands together at first gently and
then harder and harder, until smoke began to rise from them, accompanied by an
awful charring smell.
Arnie laid a hand on her shoulder. "It's okay," he said, softly, gently,
patiently.
She rinsed her hands in the basin, the water steaming and sizzling for just a
moment at her touch. When she looked up at him, she looked older and sadder.
"I'm so sorry, my Silver Stone. I guess your Doctor Sherve isn't the only one
who is getting old these days."
Now it was easy. All he had to do was bring up the subject of the jewel, and
of the Scion, yet again. He had good reasons, and she would melt beneath the
heat of the jewel in the ring, like butter on a hot summer day.
"Freya, I..."
She looked up at him and smiled. "Why, my Silver Stone, I don't think you've
ever called me by my name, save for that first time, when you realized that I
wasn't just a simple ferryman's wife. Please don't stop. Now, you were
saying?..."
He couldn't. He couldn't look down into a trusting face, and bend her will,
overrule her judgment by the force of his will, amplified by the ring and
jewel. She was wrong, and he was right, and a loving father would suffer
before the eyes of his beloved son if she didn't change her mind, but molding
a friend's mind was to treat her like an object, a thing, to be controlled.
That wasn't right.
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
He slipped the ring from his finger, and tucked it into his pocket. "Freya,"
he said, "I need the diamond. Just for a few days. But I do need it for those
two days. I don't know what I can say to persuade you I can swear that if I
ever find another one of the jewels, I'll not give it to you if you don't do
this for me now; I can promise that I will bring it back. But it's important.
"Look, when I get back with the diamond, I'll go out on the road, again, in
search of a third jewel. And I swear that I'll bring it to you, when I find
it. But for now, I have to ask you to trust me, as I have trusted you."
"Ian, please." She took his hand in both of hers. It was strange that hands
so strong and powerful could be so soft and warm. "I'm so very sorry, Ian. I
hope you will still be my Silver Stone, as I shall always be your Freya, but I
can't be swayed by your appeal, as it hasn't changed anything. Swear, if you
will, to never give me another jewel but what of that? You are not likely to
find another, not again. But should you find one, who would you give it to?
Harbard the Wanderer? Or to your father-in-law to be? You'd hardly pick either
Odin or the margrave.
"But even if you would, my reasoning still applies. Even if you promise to go
out and search for the other jewels, and bring them to me, one by one as you
find them. I can't let even one..." her brow wrinkled for a moment, then she
shook her head as though to clear it, "... I can't let even one of the jewels
be risked on the chance that if it comes back, you might someday find
another." She rose to her feet and looked down at him, still holding her. "I
don't think you can accept that, but so be it."
"No." He returned her gaze, steadily. "I don't like it, but I do accept it. I
hope you'll believe that, both of you."
She nodded. "I do," she said. She squeezed his hand, once, gently, and
released it.
Arnie had finished bandaging Ian's ankle, and it was hurting again. "Me,
too." He looked up and smiled. "Then again, Ian, I'm always easy to persuade,
eh?"
"Yeah, a real softie."
Arnie laughed.
So be it.Scion, I'm sorry. Although, in truth, I'm sorrier for your son . ..
"I'll leave in the morning. I promised I'd return." Hosea wasn't exactly a
hostage, but he wasn't exactly not a hostage, either. What was the Scion's
word worth, if you couldn't deliver?
There was no way of knowing. Would the Scion still work to take the Sons off
the Thorsens' trail?
What if I tell him I tried, really hard? Would that work?
No. Why should the Scion care if he tried? The world paid off results, not [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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