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ears, Hunkapa Aub confirmed it.
 Go down! he was hooting.  Go down now; down, down, down!
Ahead lay more snow-covered slopes. They were no different from the white-clad
terrain the travelers had spent the past difficult days traversing, with one
notable exception: all inclined visibly downward.
Additionally, the stream they had been following intermittently now visibly
picked up speed, tumbling and spilling in a series of crystal-clear cataracts
toward some far-distant river, as if the water itself could somehow sense the
proximity of gentler climes and more accommodating surroundings.
Cloud and fog continued to eddy around them as they picked up the pace. The
downgrade enabled them to increase their speed without any additional exertion
while simultaneously taking some of the strain off their weary legs. Falling
snow sustained its miraculous waltzing, Ehomba s faltering music inspiring
ever newer patterns and designs in the air. The only difference was that now
the pirouetting snowflakes began to surrender a gradually increasing
percentage of the open sky to the unobstructed sun.
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Into the Thinking Kingdoms: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 2
By evening they had descended from alpine hardwood forest to slopes thick with
dogwood and bottlebrush, oak and elm. The ground was bare of snow, and flowers
once more brightened the earth between trees and bracken. As Ehomba finally
lowered the flute from his lips, the last dozen snowflakes trickled down from
above. Concluding a miniature ballet in twinkling white, they corkscrewed
around one another down past the herdsman s face, and paused in the fragile
grip of a passing breeze to bow solemnly in his direction. Then, one by one,
they struck the warm, rich soil and melted away into oblivion, leaving behind
only tiny snowflake ghosts that each took the form of half a second s
lingering moisture.
A solicitous Simna promptly came forward to peer into his friend s face.  How
are you, bruther? How do you feel?
 Myph mimith ... Reaching around back, the herdsman took a long, slow draught
from his water bag.
After wetting his lips, he smacked them together several times before trying
one more time to form a reply.
 My mouth is sore. But otherwise I am all right, Simna. Thank you for
inquiring. I am also very hungry.
 We re all hungry. Looking around, the swordsman located the black litah. The
big cat was scratching itself against an obliging tree and purring like an old
waterwheel.  Hoy, kitty! What say me and thee go and kill something worth
chewing?
Before Ahlitah could reply, Hunkapa Aub was standing in front of Simna and
waving his arms excitedly.  No kill, no hunt!
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 By Gomepoth, why not? Maybe you re not hungry, fur face, but me and my
friends are starving. All that walking and fighting that cold has left us as
empty as a triplet of grog buckets on a forty-year-old s first wedding night.
 No need. Taking the protesting swordsman by the arm, their guide dragged him
forward. Though the muscular, well-conditioned Simna did his best to resist,
it was like trying to brake a runaway mountain.
Hunkapa halted at the edge of an unseen, unsuspected overlook. Once he was
exposed to the splendid panorama that was spread out before him, Simna stopped
struggling. They were quickly joined by
Ehomba and Ahlitah.
Below and beyond the last foothills of the northern Hrugars, lush farmland
dotted with numerous towns and small rivers spread out before them. The
revealed countryside resembled a landlocked river delta.
Hundreds of canals linked the natural waterways, from which the setting sun
skipped layers of pink and gold and purple. Several larger communities were
big enough to qualify as small cities.
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Into the Thinking Kingdoms: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 2
In the far distance, just visible as a sparkling thread of silver below the
sky, was the majestic main river into which every canal and stream and
waterway between the Hrugars and the horizon flowed. Hunkapa
Aub pointed and gesticulated exuberantly.
 See, see! Great river Eynharrowk. His trunk of an arm shifted slightly to
the west.  Cannot see from here, but over there, that way, on the great river,
is Hamacassar.
 At last. Utterly worn out, Simna sank to the ground as his legs gave way
beneath him.
 We are not there yet. Tired as he was, Ehomba chose to remain standing,
perhaps the better to drink in the view that was as full of promise as it was
of beauty.  And do not forget that Hamacassar is only a possible waypoint, a
place for us to look for a ship with captain and crew brave enough to dare a
crossing of the Semordria.
A pleading expression on his grime-flocked face, Simna ibn Sind looked up at
his companion.  Please, Etjole can t we delight in even one moment of pleasure
at having lived through this past week? Will you never allow yourself to
relax, not even for an instant? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]