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.The pirates closed on Malorrie, who still hadn't given up his death grip on the rudder.Only the young sailor knew she was there."Attack," she told her familiar.Skeins uncoiled from her shoulder, breaking apart into a swirl of pieces that glided toward the pirate on the left.The creature was on the man before he knew it, wrapping around his upper body and stripping his self-control, reducing him to a zombie state.The other pirate raised his arm to strike the young sailor, who ducked around the rudder for protection and set himself to attack.Sabyna cracked the whip, coiling it around the pirate's sword wrist.Grabbing the whip in both hands, she pulled it taut, then yanked the pirate from his feet before he could react.The pirate's face darkened with anger as he pushed himself to his feet again and cursed her.He tried to shake the whip from his arm, but Sabyna yanked on it again, pulling him off-balance.Jherek took one step forward and kicked the man in the head, sprawling him unconscious to the deck."Sandbar!" someone shouted."Where away?" Jherek yelled, getting a fresh hold on the rudder.There was no time for an answer.In the next instant, Breezerunner ran aground.Forced up and out of the river by the current, the wind, and the magic that pushed her, the cargo ship heeled over hard to port.Men tumbled from her deck, some into the water and some onto the long, quarter-moon shaped sandbar.Sabyna tried to grab the railing but missed.She fell only inches, dangerously close to getting pulled under the stern section as it whipsawed around.She felt a hand wrap around her wrist, tightening and halting her fall."I've got you, lady."Looking up, Sabyna saw that Malorrie had grabbed hold of the railing with one hand and her with the other.She watched helplessly as Breezerunner shifted and jolted across the sandbar.The deck hammered Malorrie and her mercilessly, and she didn't know how the young sailor managed to maintain his hold, but he did, even pulling her in close to him.She grabbed him around the waist, fisting the sash around his slim hips and helping him hold her weight from dangling.He still supported both of them from one arm.His pale gray eyes, gleaming like new silver, met her reddish brown ones."Lady, I'm sorry," he said."I did my best.""I know," she told him."No one could have done any more."He looked like he wanted to say something further but couldn't.With a shriek of tortured wood, Breezerunner came to a rest on her side on the sandbar.The river current slapped at the mired ship, and the sound echoed inside the empty cargo hold."Lady," Malorrie said quietly, "I fear I can't hold any longer."Her arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek pressed to his stomach, she felt the tremors vibrating through him.Yet, somehow she knew he wouldn't release the hold until she told him she was ready."It's all right," she told him."Let go.""As you wish." He released his hold and they dropped into the river.XVII9 Kythorn, the Year of the GauntletThe elf looked at the dwarf in obvious disdain, dismissing him in a glance.Upon closer inspection, Pacys realized the elf s skin color wasn't ebony as a drow's was, but a very dark blue with infrequent white patches."You're him, aren't you?" the elf asked."The one who will come to be called the Taleweaver?"Pacys listened to the accent the elf used, finding it like none other he'd ever encountered.As a bard, he'd trained his ear for dialects and accents.They were part of the most colorful tools a bard had, able to carry emotion and character in a monologue.It was softer and more sibilant, as if used to carrying great distances with very little effort."I am Pacys the Bard," he replied, "and I've been called many things.""But soon to be the Taleweaver.""Maybe.No man may know exactly what lies in his future." Pacys played his cards close to his vest.Narros had also spoken of those who would try to prevent him from attaining his goals."No," the elf replied, "but a few are sometimes chosen by the gods to get a glimpse of those possible futures." He ' paused, then added, "You have no need for alarm.""Aye, and ye speak prettily," Khlinat spat roughly, "but meself, I've found a man sometimes talks differently when he gets the chance to hold a knife to yer throat.""I heard your song," the elf said."I knew I had to come see you for myself-to discover if you were the one.""You knew me from my song?" Pacys asked.The elf nodded."I'm something of a minstrel myself, and I was brought up on the lore of my people.Your presence has been predicted in our histories.""Whose histories?" Pacys asked.The elf smiled at him haughtily."I am Taareen, of the alu'tel'quessir [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]