[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

heavy but not at all warm, and Emil tucked a stale-smelling pillow under his
head. ôThat was a remarkable thing you did with that fowl tonight,ö he said.
Beyond him, Medric bounced excitedly on his toes, apparently trying to jump
out
of his skin. ôI have to say,ö continued Emil, ôitÆs a pleasure to see Karis
finally putting on that weight she lost from being sick this spring. She was
looking an awful lot like a smoke addict again, and I was finding it
unsettling.
Present miseries are bad enough, without always being reminded of past ones.ö
Garland said, ôKaris used to look like a smoke addict? Why?ö
ôBecause she was one.ö Emil got under the blankets beside Garland, and
muttered,
ôWell, that was hardly worth the effort. Do you think we have even a hope of
becoming warm?ö
Garland, trying and failing to imagine Karis as one of those numbed,
obsessed,
starved, shadow-people that in the last few years had become increasingly
rare
in Shaftal, replied rather vaguely, ôNo hope at all.ö
ôWhat is the matter, Medric?ö said Emil innocently.
Medric pushed the sheaf of papers at him. ôI beg you! Read! In your clear,
compelling, quaveringùö
ôùcandid, cantankerousùö said Emil.
ôùquerulous voice!ö
Smiling, Emil picked up the first page and held it at an angle to capture the
candle light. ôA History of My FatherÆs People,ö he read. ôBeing an Account
of
Page 169
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the Sainnites, and How They Came to Shaftal, a Discussion of How to
Understand
Them, and Why They are Doomed.ö
He put down the sheet and rubbed his eyes. ôA very specific and compelling
title. Who could resist reading the book?ö
Medric rubbed his hands gleefully. ôI should think that no one could resist!
And
at this time of year, thereÆs nothing else to do anyway, and thanks to the
Sainnites, thereÆs nothing to read.ö
ôThey can cook,ö interjected Garland.
ôWhile someone reads to them.ö
ôAnd fix things,ö said Emil.
ôBut someone will read to them while they work! Twenty or thirty people at
once
might hear a single reading. And then theyÆll bring it to their neighbors,
who
will bring it to their neighbors . . . !ö Unable to contain himself, Medric
leapt to his feet, with the quilt in which he was wrapped trailing him like a
cloak. But the attic was filled with booksùfloor to ceilingùand he could only
walk three paces before he ran into a pile of stacked crates. Nose to nose
with
the crate, he cried, ôWeÆll print five hundred copies! And two hundred
thousand
people will have read it by spring mud!ö
ôI know better than to question your ciphering,ö Emil said, ôBut there are a
few
practical problems.ö
Medric snorted dismissively.
Garland said to Emil in a low voice, ôAre the Sainnites really doomed?ö
ôHmm.ö Emil leafed through the sheets, and gradually his face became nearly
as
gleeful as MedricÆs. ôLook at those numbers! ThatÆs got to be giving some
poor
officer any number of sleepless nights. They have only a few hundred
children,
and it takes as many as ten to replace one dead soldier? TheyÆre doomed, all
right! Medric, bring the candle, will you?ö Medric sat on the bed with the
candle in his hand, grinning like a maniac. In a steady, clear voice, Emil
began
to read, interrupted only by MedricÆs occasional snort or chuckle.
The people you call Sainnites would more properly be called Carolinsù born
into
a soldier caste that happened to serve under the warlord of Sainna. My father
served that warlord with honor until he was driven out of Sainna by fellow
Carolins, who served different warlords and were simply following orders. My
father was just a young man then and itÆs difficult to say how accurate his
version of events is, but I have talked to several other veterans and they
all
tell a similar story, so I believe it is true enough. They say the lord of
Sainna was a greedy man whose holdings encompassed a great stretch of sea
coast,
including several important harbors. In Shaftal, the harbors are important to
the fisherfolk who ride the high tides over the rocks that will wreck their
ships at lower tides; in the harbors the fishing boats can safely unload and
can
take shelter from the storms that make navigation so hazardous. But in
Sainna,
Page 170
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
the harbors were big and deep, accessible at any tide, with long docks that
served ships two or three times the size of the largest Shaftali fishing
boat.
These harbors were places that people went to make their fortunes, young
people
hoping to sign on as sailors, merchants with money to invest, hoping to sell
a
boatload of something to another country at a profit, and the Lord of Sainna
himself, who collected inordinate shipping taxes and regularly punished his
land
bound neighbors by refusing to let them travel to the coast or to use his
harbors. So the day came that three of the neighæ boring warlords banded
together against him, having agreed in advance that they each would get one
of
SainnaÆs ports and a corridor to the sea. Their Carolin soldiers were no
better
fighters than those of Sainna, but the numbers were overwhelming, and they
literally drove the army of Sainna into the sea. Eventually, the refugees
reached Shaftal, far to the north, after a hazardous crossing of an
unfriendly
sea that sometimes is covered with floating ice mountains.
My father was eighteen, more than old enough to fight, a marksman of some
renown
already, but who was, he used to tell me, of no use at all in that last,
chaotic
battle where it was all hand-to-hand fighting and there was no time for
loading
pistols. He survived unscathed by simple luck and can scarcely remember his
escape, he was so bewildered and exhausted with fighting. He had four close
friends of his own age, and by the time he was climbing the ladder to board a
commandeered ship, all of his friends had disappeared and he never saw them
again, nor did he know what had become of them. Of all the griefs he bore in
his
short lifeùfor he was dead at thirty-fiveùit was the loss of those friends
that
weighed most heavily on him, for though there are many criticisms my fatherÆs
people justly deserve, it canÆt be said that they arenÆt loyal to their
friends.
My father drew a map once, of that faraway land he hailed from. He could not
read or write, but he remembered where the major rivers and boundaries lay,
and
where an army on the move might easily travel, and what lord ruled what
territory. He had studied that map as a boy, for like all Carolins, his life
depended upon knowing where he was and where he was going. Still, he might
leave
on a journey through a friendly neighborÆs territory and have the friend turn [ Pobierz caÅ‚ość w formacie PDF ]