Christopher Bunn [The Tormay The Shadow at the Gate (v5.0) (

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.Fourteen years back now.”“Now that’s a man I’d have in the Guard,” said Owain.“I don’t know about how he treated Devnes Elloran—if there’s any truth in the songs, he’s got a wicked streak in him as wide as the Rennet River—but anyone who could track an ogre trail, months old, right into their lair and then cut ‘em down by himself.” He shook his head in admiration.“I wish I’d been there to see him fight.”“Well, I heard tell you’ve had some fights yourself, in your time.”Owain grinned.“Still some time left,” he said.And with that pleasant thought in mind, he turned his horse to the west.“Lads!” he shouted.“We ride for home and Hearne!”CHAPTER TWENTYHUNGER AND THE WIHHTNio woke in the late afternoon, with the sunlight already fading behind the shuttered windows.His dream returned to him in a rush.It seemed as if the fortress loomed unseen behind the paltry reality of his room.If he were only to close his eyes and then open them, the walls would be gone to reveal the stone fastness standing within its unending night sky.Surely that terrible place was the deeper truth than his shabby bedroom.However, when he shut his eyes and then opened them again—chiding himself for being a fool and yet half believing there was a certain wisdom in being a fool—there was only the walls of his bedroom, grimy with neglect and gloomy with shadow.Nio lit a candle and went downstairs.It had been a long time since he had eaten, but he was not hungry.He did not think he would ever be hungry again.The word stirred in his mouth, and it was meat and drink to him.The fifth name of darkness.He marveled at the simplicity of the word.Surely such a sound was self-evident in the shape of shadows, in the creeping dusk, and in the blackness of those rare night skies in which there are no stars.He whispered the word out loud.Instantly, everything around him—the walls, the stone tile of the floor, the copper handles and hinges and keyholes, the mirror reflecting candlelight and his gaunt face—everything began to unravel into shadow.Wood splintered into shadow.The stone underfoot softened.The candle in his hand melted and darkness dripped down his fingers.The mirror reflected nothing except shadow, was shadow.He laughed aloud.For a moment, he allowed the change to continue, marveling in it and wondering if, left unchecked, it would spread outwards like the ripples caused by a stone thrown into water, until all of Hearne was plunged into darkness.But then he spoke the true names of wood and stone, of glass and copper, forcing his will into the sounds until the original appearance of the hall reasserted itself.The wihht was waiting at the foot of the stairs when Nio unlocked the cellar door.He was no longer concerned by the thing.It was remarkable how closely it resembled a man.In height and face the wihht could have been his brother.This was probably due to the few drops of blood he had given the creature.“There’s something I need you to do,” Nio said.The wihht did not answer.“We go to the university ruins this night.I’ll introduce you to an old friend of mine.There’ll be mutual profit in the acquaintance—he, in adding to his already considerable knowledge and experience, and you, due to your own particular needs.”The wihht smiled.It was twilight when they left the house.The wihht was cloaked and hooded.It no longer walked in the awkward fashion it had when Nio had first created it.The wihht strode along beside him, head down and silent.He could smell the sour must of the thing, but it wasn’t much worse than any poor city dweller who never bathed unless it was by chance of getting caught in the rain.Or perhaps he was merely getting used to the creature’s scent.The streets were busy.They grew more crowded as they neared Mioja Square at the center of the city.Lamps burned along the edge of the square and at intervals throughout the sprawl of carts and tents.The people thronged under the flickering lights.Water shot up from the fountain in the middle of the square and gleamed with firelight.A cheerful babble of conversation, of vendors hawking their wares, of musicians plying their craft in the ale tents blended together into a surging clamor.Under it all, Nio could sense the countless threads of wards humming in wary readiness, guarding a rich merchant here, another there, woven about the tent of a jeweler, spelled into a nobleman’s purse, silver whorls hammered into the hilt of a soldier’s prized sword.“Fortunes!” called a boy from the mouth of a tent.“Fortunes told! Fortunes!”“Who’ll buy fine linens? Who’ll buy?”“Wards! Wards for sale!”“Cakes, cakes, cakeses!”“Fortunes!”A mist drifted down upon them as they walked by the fountain.The wihht was silent at his side.The falling water glimmered with dark colors [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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