[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
wrong as well as those he had done right. Those stories made the difference
for Cooley, a city wolf with no experience of the road and its perils. He
remembered his father telling him about everything from how to screen a fire
to how to tell which inns to stay at in the towns along his line of travel.
Iswara helped a lot, and it felt good to have an adult companion. However, the
cat was definitely a cat and Cooley a wolf, which made the cub uneasy at
times, because there were things about felines that simply did not always make
sense to him.
That morning they were less than a day's ride from Silvershire if the weather
held. Cooley's hopes for making Silvershire before nightfall were dashed at
midday. The snow came drifting down, lightly at first and then thick and
swirling. The road became harder and harder to make out. To leave the road by
accident would mean becoming lost in the forest. A streak of Blackwood
stubbornness kept him riding until he could not see the road in front of him.
He and Iswara found a sheltered spot in a thicket of pine trees. Iswara
gathered fallen branches, creating a windscreen to offer more protection for
them and their horses. Cooley built a sheltered fire and they warmed
themselves as best they could. He had spent the day in his hybrid form
attempting to stay warm. At Iswara's insistence, Cooley removed gloves, cloak,
and jacket so that his body could better absorb the heat from the fire.
He eyed Iswara closely with a glint of skepticism. My ma really was a
princess?"
Iswara smiled. Silkanna Mircala de Waejonan was a princess."
"How'd she end up as a whore then? The two images, princess and prostitute,
did not match up in Cooley's mind.
"For one thing, there is very little work in Waejontor for women that does not
involve opening their legs at one point or another."
"They're all whores?"
"That is not what I said. Females have few legal rights in Waejontor. Had she
sought work as a servant, or a servingmon in a tavern, or as a weaver, or any
of a dozen professions, sooner or later the master or the owner would expected
Page 100
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
to be entertained in bed."
"I'm starting to hate them."
Iswara shrugged. Hate them if you wish, but it will not change their culture.
Among the lycans, your bitches have more rights. Your culture is not perfect,
but then none of them are."
Cooley remembered the tiger-striped cat that had belonged to Cahira until his
friend Bodi gave it to Darmyk Redhand. Is Kerry one of you?"
"Yes and no. He is Shivari, tiger catkin, or tigerkin as some call it.
However, he is a Netherguard. Tandu, Damayanti, and myself ... we are Guild."
"What's the difference?"
"Your curiosity is as insatiable as a cat's, young master."
Cooley gave him a sharp-eyed frown. He disliked it when adults tried to
sidestep his questions. So tell me."
"As you wish. Both of us serve Hadjys the Dark Judge. The primary duty of the
Netherguard is to see that no demons escape from the section of the Katal
Escarpment that borders Creeya. First and foremost, they are demon-slayers.
Kerry was loaned to the Guild because of his expertise in certain areas."
"What areas?"
"Ah, ah, ah. There are some matters that I cannot share, young master.
Iswara's head came up, listening alertly. He signed Cooley to silence.
Three myn stepped into the firelight, rangy looking lycans in worn leathers.
One of them squatted in front of Cooley. What's a little cub like you doing
out in this weather?"
Cooley eyed him suspiciously. None of your business."
"That's not very friendly."
"You're not my friend. Cooley gave him a harsh eyed look worthy of his
father.
The mon nearest Iswara slid his hand to the hilt of his knife, but Iswara was
faster, his hand became a claw and he swiped it across the mon's face,
blinding him.
The second one jumped up and drew his sword.
"Self-taught ruffians, are we? Iswara threw him a disdainful look as he drew
his tulwar.
The third lunged at Cooley, trying to grab him. Cooley threw himself sideways,
rolling to his feet. The knives at his sides came from the sheaths fast and
Cooley faced him in a crouch.
"Put those down before you hurt yourself."
Cooley spit at him. Stupid three-fingered fuckwit."
The mon glared. Mouth like that'll get you killed, boy."
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]