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and you didn't take it!"
Farryn never looked away from Donya.
"The plague weakens us but does not kill," he said unhappily. "But these
invaders will wipe our people from the land forever. There was no other
choice I could honorably make. At least you will know that your city is safe
from invasion."
"Yes," Donya said steadily, although her hand was shaking. "That is
more important. There's nothing to forgive. I would've made the same
decision myself, Farryn."
"Well, I wouldn't have!" Shadow shouted. "Damn you both! And damn
me if I can stand another swamp-rotting second of you two and your
idiotic honor and duty and self-sacrifice!" She whirled and slapped her left
palm against the door.
"Shadow, don't!" Donya screamed, half rising.
"AUFRYHR!" Shadow roared.
And stone swallowed her.
For a moment there was nothing no sense of her body, no breath, no
heartbeat, no awareness of her surroundings. Was this death? Then stone
spat her forth like a fruit seed.
Gradually Shadow became aware that she was standing in what might
be loosely termed a room simply due to the fact that she was standing on a
floor. In front of her was what appeared to be an altar a plain stone table,
massive and unornamented but for the now-familiar reliefs. The top was
empty.
Silence.
Shadow turned to look around her. Grayness stretched in all directions,
and the grayness was silence a silence that seemed to whisper softly.
"Well, kill me or not!" Shadow called out. "What's it going to be?"
"My, aren't we bold?" a voice asked behind her, and Shadow whirled to
face
 herself.
The figure sitting casually on the edge of the altar, one leg curled
comfortably under her, was Shadow from the coiled ebony braid to the
tips of her leather boots but this Shadow wasn't swamp-muddied,
sweaty, and badly in need of a long bath; this Shadow was spotlessly clean
and neat down to the last hair. Shadow wondered irrelevantly if she'd ever
looked that good.
"Well?" the other Shadow demanded. "You wanted to be here, here you
are. You wanted a god's attention you've got it. What have you to say for
yourself?"
"I'm not you're not a god," Shadow said dubiously.
"How do you expect to face a god if you can't face yourself?" the other
returned. "At any rate, I'm the one you get to deal with. So go on deal."
"If you're a god, or or from a god," Shadow said bravely, "then you
already know what I want. A cure for the Crimson Plague."
The other Shadow held up a flask in one hand, a scroll in the other.
"A simple potion," she said. "It can be mixed by any herbalist from
plants which grow both near Allanmere and near Wind Dancing. What
will you give for it?"
"Anything I have," Shadow said quietly. "Anything I am."
"And who are you," her twin mocked, "that Adraon should answer your
plea?"
"I'm Shadow, Guildmistress of the Guild of Thieves," Shadow said
proudly, "elvan Matriarch and daughter of Songwater, emissary of the
High Lord and Lady of Allanmere and heart-sister of its Heir."
The other Shadow threw back her head and laughed.
"Are you indeed?" she said. "Guildmistress? At the slightest excuse you
abandon your post. Nothing would delight you more than to be rid of it
forever.
"Matriarch, daughter of Songwater? A sad jest. You wear your elfhood
like an extra blade, good to have when it's of use, easy to set aside when
it's inconvenient. You abandoned your people and left them to their fate
when it suited your whims, abandoned their god, abandoned even the
name they gave you. You keep what customs suit you and cast the rest
aside like a sour apple, along with any responsibilities you might have to
your people.
"Royal emissary? You had to be bundled off like a shy maiden to an
arranged marriage. It took all but a royal command to pry you away from
your wine and your soft bed.
"And heart-sister to Lady Donya. How pitiful," the other Shadow said
scornfully. "After three years of enjoying her companionship, her
protection, her loyalty, you abandoned her like you've abandoned every
responsibility you've ever had. Your excuse? Ah, poor tenderhearted Shady
couldn't bear to watch her friend grow old and die. What you meant was
that she'd become a drag on you, a poor mortal human whose burdensome
human morality and pitiful human mortality would one day become an
inconvenience."
Shadow's twin laughed again, tucking the flask and scroll into her
sleeves.
"Your soul's as barren as your womb," she mocked. "You're nothing but
a leech, sucking everyone and everything you touch dry and giving nothing
back. Adraon has nothing but contempt for you."
Shadow clenched her fists and choked back a sob. It was true, every
bitter word. From the darkness around her she heard her own words, so
innocently arrogant "I know this Fortune-be-damned Guild would be
more trouble than it's worth."
"My spirit grew until the forest wasn't big enough to hold it."
"Personally I find it easier to let a lot of big, overmuscled, armored
humans get hacked at instead of me."
"In time, Allanmere will get too small for me again and I'll move on to
see what the rest of the world has been doing."
"It's hard to watch them grow old and feeble and finally die."
"Your gold, your Guild, fancy weapons and contacts and Matriarch
status, they are only masks," the other Shadow taunted, "masks behind [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]