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exotic doesn’t influence
exotic doesn’t influence your opinion, I’m sure.” “Me? Swayed by a woman like that? Never!” They both laughed at the inside joke. People around them started yelling and pointing. Kaylen and Jahsha hurried down and out of the ferry, and saw a dragon approaching, closer to the ground than any others that had come near the camp. The blue creature landed near the dunes. “It has two heads,” Jahsha said, holding a hand over her brow to shade her eyes. “No,” Kaylen replied. “It has a dwarf.” He started running. Jahsha hesitated, and followed. When they reached the dragon, Norgrim was dismounting from its back. “Find Symurall,” the dwarf was saying. “Find your mother. You know what to tell them.” He said something else, in the native speech of dragons. Arrokka arched her back
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and flew off,
and flew off, southward, quickly. As soon as the dragon was gone, Alanora was beside them. Nodding toward her, Norgrim said, “I see you’ve met my other traveling companion. She’s prettier than Tohkay.” “Also more likely to pummel an annoying dwarf,” she growled with a smile. Norgrim laughed. “If I were a hundred years younger, I’d accept that challenge,” he said. “But right now, we need to prepare, or we’ll all be corpses by dawn.” Six of seven great dragons had arrived by mid-morning. Symurall sat quietly, next to Kyazura, preparing his oratory. The most recent to join them had been Mahgrurra, a tan and red creature of the shifting dunes of a southern desert. Directly across the square from his siblings, Sytherek stood
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alone. To one
alone. To one side, Voranytchi was deep in quiet conversation 36 with another ancient dragon named Yvarrtasah, a mossy green beast of the deepest forest. Neither was likely, in Symurall’s estimation, to be interested in the humans. They were insular creatures, more interested in their poetry and songs than the events of the world. Movement caught Symurall’s eye. Wrapped in translucent scales of amber, yellow, and orange, Narrahnjarra landed delicately in the center of the group, neatly folding her brown wings. She quickly and politely did the social rounds, ending with Symurall. Then to the assembled group, she said, “Garthonnex sends his greetings and regrets. He is going to see his father in regard to the matter which has
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tact, all
tact, all the functional navigation and communi- cation gear had been pirated, right down to the two helm wheels. The birds had made it a housing complex L cheap rent, safe, and besides, they could leave anytime. He laughed, imagining how nice it was to have options. It was the extent of the bird re- fuse that gave him serious second thoughts about camping in here. So much for the theory that birds didnPt crap in their nest. It would be okay in a pinch, he figured. It was an option, at least, if the skies got wet. He took the time to catch the view from the
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front of
front of the wheelhouse. It was an impressive vista L the working tugs ahead, the Gulf opening up to swallow them, the sky clear, full of the color coming off the water L a fine panorama, and he took the minute to consume it. Standing high, and with the breeze coming through the wheel- house windows, he realized the air had cooled. Out from the still swamp waters, into the cool zephyr of open water The Lady moved. Back on the quarterdeck Gomez had been awake and in pain for some time. He said he felt better and worse. Either the pain was
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almost un- bearable or
almost un- bearable or he felt nothing. He took to banging the arm with his good hand to keep it going, keep the feeling in it. After a while he forced himself to get up, little by little. He helped with the shelter despite BobbyPs protestations, using his good arm and some body pressure as if hePd never had two hands. — 143 — Not able to put much effort together for any length of time, he didnPt stay standing long. He squatted, resting to fight off the dizzy spells, to keep himself together. Bobby encouraged him to lie down
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and
and rest, take it easy. He had to get pushy with the request before Gomez complied. Once his companion settled again into drifting discomfort Bobby left him and went below, into the hollow within The Lady’s murky vitals. It was time to check whether she was safe below. In nor- mal circumstances she would have the holds full of cargo, and her mechanics still in place. There would be a thousand and one other sounds ac- companying a ship under power. The Lady Inca had none of these. With her under tow, he heard other sounds. She was full of these sounds, all of them different from the
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norm.
norm. He felt a different motion too, awkward and pulsing, from the contrary pull of the tugs. He descended further, more easily this time than before L had a better feel for her when she was underway. He could work more easily with her in motion, even with the unnatural roll through her belly as she reacted to the tugs. By the time he got to her waterline hold he thought again about how unusually high she rode in the water. Everything was above the keel line. HePd noticed her hogging when he was topside, moving across the water instead of through it. The Lady had no trustworthy grip into the
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water, in tow and
water, in tow and weightless to boot. At least he couldnPt hear the splash or smell — 144 — salt water running inside her, not yet anyway. He liked to figure it was going to be the silver lining, no internal water intake. With that in mind he moved through her slowly, watching his footing as he checked the forward bilge hatches. He found them secure, an important positive for his per- spective on survival. The watertight doors re- mained as Bobby had left them L rusted, fire warped and half sealed. Maybe it was what Robert Forster noticed, not
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your name was?\
your name was?\ There was a moment of hesitation before the woman who had been hired for the Columbine mask answered, \ It s Kade.\ She was sitting on top of one of the wine-stained tables, her legs folded beneath her skirt in a position that most women of better breeding would have found difficult if not impossible. The playing cards she shuffled were a tattered pack belonging to the tavern. \ Really? Don t tell Baraselli.\ Silvetta shuddered, rolling her eyes in a gesture better suited for the stage. \ Bad luck, ill omens, that s all he talks about. But they don t give children that name here anymore, do they? Except in the country. Are you from the country?\ \ Yes.\ \ When did you
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learn Commedia?\ \
learn Commedia?\ \ I traveled around with one for a while and learned the Columbine mask. That was after I got out of the convent,\ Kade told her. Silvetta leaned forward. \ Why were you in a convent?\ \ My wicked stepmother sent me there.\ \ Oh, you re telling me a tale.\ Personal questions out of the way, she said, \ Do my fortune again.\ Kade s brows quirked. \ I doubt it s changed any in the past hour.\ Chapter Three \ You can t tell; it might have.\ \ You can tell,\ Kade said, but began to lay out the cards for the fortune anyway.
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32 Corrine, the
32 Corrine, the other heroine, appeared out of one of the back rooms carrying two dresses visible only as tumbled confections of sparkled fabric and lace. \ What do you think, this blue or that blue?\ Both women paused to give the matter serious consideration. \ That one,\ Silvetta said finally. \ I think so,\ Kade agreed. \ What are you wearing?\ Corrine asked her. Kade suspected she was anxious to make sure she wasn t going to be outshone by the woman playing her maid. With a shrug of one shoulder, Kade indicated the loose red gown she wore over the low-necked smock. \ This.\ \ You can t wear that,\ Silvetta objected. \ I m
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playing a maid.\
playing a maid.\ She laughed. \ What else should I wear?\ The free fortune-telling had won Silvetta over completely. She said, \ At least let me curl your hair.\ Kade ran a hand through fine limp hair that the dusty sunlight was temporarily transforming into spun gold. Ordinarily she considered it the color of wheat suffering from rotting blight. \ With an iron?\ \ Of course, you goose, what else?\ \ I hate that.\ Corrine draped the gowns over a chair and said, \ The thing to do is to attract attention to yourself. There s plenty of men there, gentlemen, lords, wealthy men, on the lookout for mistresses. Of course, it s not often you can get something permanent, you understand, but it s worth
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arranged to meet.
arranged to meet. \ Hang it,\ he thought moodily, \ I feel like an infernal frog out of Acheron, covered with the ooze and mud of melancholy. Jove, if I could only chance upon the Will Smyths or Mrs. Gower, what a tonic they would be; how they would enjoy this madding crowd with all the world abroad, with no blue blood in the beef they eat either; judging from red cheeks and stout ankles. What women! cotton batting would not be a safe investment here; I hope the governor is waiting for me at Morley s, but he must be, as he took the Circassian from Quebec on the 16th. I ll persuade him not to go out to Bayswater at all, but to abandon this debt of honor, as in his sensitive nature he dubs his promise to a dead
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woman, for I
woman, for I have no hankering after a martyr s crown. If I am coerced (for I am made of very limp stuff) into this union and she is not a girl I can care to spoon over, and must write me down as an ass for selling my liberty to, then adieu to wedded bliss–I shall again content myself in a den by myself, and my craze for mechanism shall be my wife and my few real friends my mistress. Jove! though, I must strain my eyes and endeavor to see a glimmer of light in the black clouds; if she be a girl after my own heart she will sympathize after a more practical manner than did the twenty with Bunthorn, in giving me the dollar to develop, and obtain a patent for one or other of my
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inventions. Yes, I
inventions. Yes, I ll be a soldier. I am nearing the battle-field; with the smell of powder in my nostrils, I will gain strength. Cabby is reining in his steed, so this, I suppose, is my hotel.\ \ Morley s, sir; and ere be a porter for your baggage, sir.\ \ All right,\ and springing from the four-wheeler he is interviewing the clerk. \ Has Mr. Babbington-Cole, from Ottawa, Canada, arrived?\ \ No, sir; are you Mr. C. Babbington-Cole?\ \ Yes.\ \ Then here is a cablegram for you, sir.\ It was from his father, and ran thus: \ ST. LAWRENCE HALL, \ MONTREAL, Sept. 20th. \ To C. BABBINGTON-COLE, Esq., \ Morley
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s Hotel, London,
s Hotel, London, England. \ Your father has been very ill–typhoid fever; called me in; is improving; asks me to cablegram you to return by way of Montreal. Longs to see you and your wife, which will be a panacea for him. \ JOHN PEAKE, M.D.\ \ My father ill! Oh that I could have foreseen all this,\ exclaimed Cole, flinging himself into a chair in the privacy of the bedroom assigned him. \ To have to face my fate alone,\ he thought, \ and yet I have been aware for some time that this was hanging over me; but the truth is, I thought the girl would never claim me, that they would arbitrate, divide, have a grab game among themselves, anything other than rope me in. Had I been gifted with
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Scotch second-sight, or
Scotch second-sight, or even caution, I should not be in this fix now; but I have been made of wax, and so absorbed in my loved inventions, filling in an emotional half hour with an occasional flirtation, with CHAPTER VIII. 62 my nose to the grindstone the rest of my time, that this possible game of barter, in which some one says the devil always has the best of it, rarely occurred to me; but this will never do in action, only shall I now find repose. I must go out to Bayswater, and I must wed this girl, unless Heaven works a miracle–no, unless I act the coward s part, cut and run, I am in for it. If I could only moralize on
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the pantheon of
the pantheon of ugly horrors half of our marriages are, and that one might imagine most of them were perpetrated in the dark, or on sight, as mine, then I might console myself by thinking that I have as good a chance of happiness as most. My brain is on fire; if I only had one friend in this vanity fair, wherein to me is no merriment, the babel of sounds seeming to me the guns of the enemy warning me to retreat; talk of delirium tremens, I have all the blue devils rolled in one; a stimulant is what I want, to be able to face the music.\ And making his way to the bar, in a short time his spirits, with the aid of John Barleycorn, arise; though he knows in the reaction they will be below zero.
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and when I
and when I recall that your late father commanded a cavalry regiment in the Civil War, I fall back upon the privilege of my age to beg that you will hereafter give the Asolando a wide berth.\ 17 \ I assure you, Miss Hollister, that I have no wish to become an habitue of the place. And yet you will pardon me if I repeat that, but for it, I should not now be enjoying the hospitality of Hopefield Manor.\ She lifted her head from her cup and bowed; but I was immediately interested in the fact that her niece was speaking. \ I think Aunt Octavia is hard on the Asolando,\ she was saying. \ Aunt Octavia is
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interested in the
interested in the revival of romance, and romance without poetry seems to me wholly impossible. The Asolando makes no pretensions to be more than an incident in a real movement whose aim is the diffusion of poetic fire,–it is merely a shrine where the divine lamp is never allowed to fail or falter.\ \ And if, Cecilia Hollister, you think that sandwiches named for Browning s poems or macaroons dedicated to Walter Pater can assist foolish virgins in keeping their lamps filled, I give you the word of an old woman that you are in danger of a complete loss of your mind. The age is decadent, and I know no better way of restoring the race to its ancient vim and energy than by sending men back to the camp and field or to sail the high seas
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in new armadas.
in new armadas. The men of this age have become a lot of sordid shopkeepers, and to my moral sense the looting of cities is far more honorable than the creation of trusts and the manipulation of prices, though I cannot deny that but for my late father s zeal in destroying his competitors in the baby-buggy business we might not now be enjoying the delicate fragrance of caravan tea.\ I continued to flounder in my anxiety to determine just how Miss Hollister wished to be taken. She spoke with the utmost seriousness and with the earnestness of deep conviction. If the aims of the Asolando were absurd, what might be said of the declarations of this old lady in favor of a return to the age of sword and buckler! I again turned to Cecilia, thinking that
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I should find
I should find a twinkle in her eye that might solve the riddle and make easier my responses to her aunt s appeals. Her reply did not help me greatly:– \ I assure you, Mr. Ames, that the Asolando is a very harmless place, and that as a matter of fact its aims are wholly consonant with those of Aunt Octavia. I myself served there for a time, and those were among the most delightful days of my life.\ \ And you might still be handing about the Rossetti eclairs in that smothery little place if I had not rescued you from your bondage. I assure you, Mr. Ames, that my niece is a perfectly healthy young woman, to whom all such rubbish is really abhorrent.\ I expected Miss Cecilia to rouse at this;
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but she ignored
but she ignored her aunt s fling, saying merely,– \ There are times when I miss the Asolando.\ \ Mr. Ames,\ began Miss Octavia presently in her crisp, direct fashion, which had the effect of leading me, in my anxiety to appear ready with answers, to take a flattering view of my own courage and resourcefulness,–\ Mr. Ames, are you equal to the feat of swimming a moat under a shattering fire from the castle?\ \ I have every reason to think I am, Miss Hollister,\ I replied modestly. \ And if a white hand waved to you from the grilled window of the lonely tower, would you ride on indifferently or pause and thunder at the gate?\ \ White hands have never waved to me,
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clue about who
clue about who authorizes the publication of that which they are taught in the educational stems, because they have been taught what to think, rather than how to think. It’s much easier to go with the flow and accept what the majority accepts, than it is to question political, educational, or religious authority. Although this was Lucifer’s world in ancient times, the same as it is now, it was not until the advent of Judaism and its offshoots, Islam and Christianity that humanity began to suffer constant sorrow through oppression, war and slaughter. Forget about what you’ve been taught in school, or seen in movies, because the early Church being successful in its “inquisition”, wrote the history its way, and painted a picture of its enemies (particularly the Scandinavians) as being barbaric pagans who expressed their nature by raping, burning, pillaging and plundering the “meek” and “passive” Christians.
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The untold story,
The untold story, however, has the inquisitors of the Christian faith raping, burning, pillaging and plundering the farmers and merchants of not only Norway, Sweden and Denmark, but wherever they went, in behalf of the god of this world, and doing it in the name of Jesus. “Viking” is an Old Norse term for a “raid”. After about seven hundred years of having their culture and its spiritual tradition decimated at the point of a Christian sword, these farmers and merchants went a Viking in defense of their homelands; but it was already too late. Lucifer and his religious heroes with occult powers backing them won the day. It is his world after all, and look at what a prize we have now. Every time I hear someone Praying: “Thy will be done”, I cringe at the thought of what that might bring. When I hear Christians in
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the patriot movement
the patriot movement speak of giving this nation (America) back to god, I realize that the struggle for freedom is already lost. Life has taught me over the years, that those who claim to be led either by god, Jesus or the Spirit, tend to use what they call god’s will, to engage in all forms of treachery and deceit. Being led in such a way, all too often serves as a mask for their indulgence of the lower emotional passions, and an opportunity to fleece those they consider to be their sheep. It’s my hope that I have been successful in explaining that which I had to present adequately enough, that most of your questions have been answered somewhere in this book. I realize that such an expectation is unreasonable, however, so we have a place on the website for questions and answers, where further questions
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have been anticipated.
have been anticipated. In addition, we will make both monthly discourses and workshops available to those who contact the Mani-Om-Sah Institute at maniomsah.com. Thank you for checking out our website. Sincerely, Jon Stauffer GLOSSARY Ǽsir – Mythologically, these were the race of gods and goddesses associated with Odin, in the realm of Asgard. Historically, they were a tribe of ancient Europeans possessing either red or blond hair. Akasha – Known throughout both India and the New Age Movement as a library of records for all karmic responsibility, both personal and group. Alchemical – A reference to the energetic process of inner transformation which takes place as spiritual purification occurs. “All” – The original source of all creation. Andromies – An extraterrestrial race associated with Dominion that possesses an insectoid-beetle type genetic structure. Anunnaki – An
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Coldham Hall is
Coldham Hall is the next fishing station of importance. There is a good inn there, and plenty of boats for hire at a cheap rate. Fishing and other boats can also be obtained at Messrs. H. Flowers and Co. s new boating station, where yachts can be moored and laid up. As the railway station (Brundall) is close to it, it is very convenient for anglers. The mooring places at Brundall and Coldham Hall are not many, as the banks are very shoal. In the reach between Brundall and Coldham Hall only the middle third of the river is navigable for yachts; and the same may be said of the long reach below Coldham Hall. We could see half-a-dozen fishing boats under the lee of the point above the station. It seems a favourite place, for I never passed it without seeing fishermen
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there. But as
there. But as the man had to sail the yacht round the great curve of the river, we took a short cut across Surlingham Broad in the jolly. This Broad lies within a horse-shoe bend of the river, and has a navigable channel across it. It is not deep enough, however, for yachts or laden wherries. The Broad is largely affected by the tide, which sometimes leaves its shallows exposed. The river, as I should have said, is tidal up to Norwich, and the force of the tide increases with every deepening of Yarmouth Haven. We rowed up the dyke which leads on to the Broad, a small sheet of water, overgrown with weeds and very shallow, but a capital nursery for fish and fowl. The fishing upon it is preserved. Rowing across it, we entered another dyke, and emerged into
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the river again,
the river again, and caught up the yacht. [Picture: On Rockland Broad] Snipe abound on the marshes here, and their drumming can always be heard in the early summer. The flat, far-reaching marshes glowed with a thousand tints of flower and grass, and the iris gleamed brightly in the lush margins of the river. We sailed quietly on, down the curving reaches of the widening river, watching the slow-seeming flight of the heron, the splash of fish, the bending reeds, and the occasional boat-loads of anglers, until we came to the mouth of a dyke, about a mile long, up which we again rowed in the jolly, to explore Rockland Broad, where the open water is much more extensive than at Surlingham. Here there are several eel-fishers floating abodes, Noah s-ark-like structures, with nets and \
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by nature to
by nature to wrestle with time-tables and cabbies and hotel-bills and headwaiters. This trip has taught me to respect men more than I have ever done.\ \ Then it hasn t been wasted. But you say you re from Philadelphia. I know some people in Philadelphia–the Courtlandt Bryces are sort of cousins of mine.\ But the girl shook her head. \ That sort of thing happens only in novels,\ she said. \ But there is no reason I shouldn t tell you my name, if you want to know it. It is Millicent Field, and its possessor is very undistinguished–just a school-teacher–not at all in the same social circle as the Courtlandt Bryces.\ Stewart colored a little. \ My name is Bradford Stewart,\ he said, \
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and I also
and I also am very undistinguished–just a surgeon on the staff at Johns Hopkins. Did you get to Vienna?\ \ No; that was too far for us.\ \ There was a clinic there; I saw some wonderful things. These German surgeons certainly know their business.\ Miss Field made a little grimace. \ Perhaps,\ she admitted. \ But do you know the impression of Germany that I am taking home with me? It is that Germany is a country run solely in the interests of the male half of creation. Women are tolerated only because they are necessary in the scheme of things.\ Stewart laughed. \ There was a book published a year or two ago,\ he said, \ called Germany and
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the Germans.
the Germans. Perhaps you read it?\ \ No.\ \ I remember it for one remark. Its author says that Germany is the only country on earth where the men s hands are better kept than the women s.\ CHAPTER II Miss Field clapped her hands in delight. \ Delicious!\ she cried. \ Splendid! And it is true,\ she added, more seriously. \ Did you see the women cleaning the streets in Munich?\ \ Yes.\ 17 \ And harvesting the grain, and spreading manure, and carrying great burdens–doing all the dirty work and the heavy work. What are the men doing, I should like to know?\
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and had a large family of children of all ages from a babe in arms to a son at the university. This son, Jacob Worm, was a brilliant but irascible and excessively proud youth only a few years younger than Kingo. From what we know about him in later years, it is likely that Kingo s contact with him during his vacations at home must have proved exceedingly trying. The bitter enmity that later existed between the two men probably had its inception at this time. In 1666, Kingo, therefore, applied for a waiting appointment to his home church at Slangerup, where the pastor was growing old and, in the course of nature, could be expected ere long to be called to his reward. The application was granted, and when the pastor did die two years later, Kingo at once was installed as

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his successor. Slangerup was only

his successor. Slangerup was only a small city, but it had a new and very beautiful church, which still stands almost unchanged. One may still sit in the same pews and see the same elaborately carved pulpit and altar which graced its lofty chancel during the pastorate of the great hymnwriter. A beautiful chandelier, which he donated and inscribed, still adorns the arched nave. In this splendid sanctuary it must have been inspiring to listen to the known eloquence of its most famous pastor as he preached the gospel or, with his fine musical voice, chanted the liturgy before the altar. The church was always well attended when Kingo conducted the service. People soon recognized his exceptional ability and showed their appreciation of his devoted ministry. The position of a pastor was then much more prominent than it is

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now. He was

now. He was the official head of numerous enterprises, both spiritual and civic, and the social equal of the best people in the community. With many people the custom of calling him \\ Father\\ was then by no means an empty phrase. Parishioners sought their pastor and accepted his counsel in numerous affairs that are now considered to be outside of his domain. In view of Kingo s humble antecedents, a position of such prominence might well have proved difficult to maintain among a people that knew his former station. But of such difficulties the record of his pastorate gives no indication. He was, it appears, one exception to the rule that a prophet is not respected in his own country. When he moved to Slangerup, Kingo was still unmarried. But about two years later he married the widow of

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and Mrs. Dale
and Mrs. Dale have come to consider her as one of themselves, though having decided to place their son at boarding-school until such time as they take up house. Mr. Buckingham is, as we know, an eligible bachelor, fine-looking, tall, as we have heard, and a man of many dollars; a calmly quiet man (a trait from his German mother), who has lost two fortunes, but who will not play for high stakes again, as he does not care to begin over again at fifty, with nearly all he craves in his grasp; two women jilted him when fortune frowned, but taking it coolly, he merely told himself it was the dollar they had cared for, not he. Passionately fond of music, a skilled performer, the piano has been mistress and wife to him; if he marries he will be a
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good husband, but
good husband, but if he does not, he will be almost as happy in the best musical circle wherever his home may be. Having dined, our friends gathered for a few moments social chat before retiring, when Mrs. Dale said, \ I expect, Mr. Buckingham, you feel as important as one of Barnum s show-men in your role, for you are aware you and Mrs. Gower must trot us round to see the lions.\ \ Any man, Mrs. Dale, would feel important as your cicerone, and in company with Mrs. Gower.\ \ How polite you are. Oh, Henry, I see by the News, \ Fantasma\ is on at the Grand Opera House; even if it is late, let us go.\ \ Nonsense, dear, we have seen it often enough.\
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CHAPTER
CHAPTER II. \ If you are tired, very well; but I wanted to make a spectacle of myself this time, and the ladies green with envy over my new heliotrope satin.\ \ Well, if that isn t self-abnegation,\ laughed Buckingham. \ Oh, you needn t sympathize, I only feel as the peacock when he spreads his tail.\ \ How many churches did Mrs. Gower say there are here?\ asked Miss Crew. \ One hundred and twenty; so you will have a choice of roads heavenward, Miss Crew,\ answered Buckingham. \ Yes, there are a number of roads, and only one guide-book,\ she answered, thoughtfully. \ Mrs. Gower will put you on the right
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track,\ he
track,\ he said quietly. 38 Here Mr. Dale returned, saying in pleased tones, \ Well, Ella, I have telephoned Mrs. Gower of our arrival, and she says she will call at 11 a.m., then do the Exhibition, where we are to remain until we see Pekin bombarded.\ \ That is in the evening, and the best part of it this perfect weather; may I come?\ said Buckingham. \ Assuredly.\ \ Thanks, and au revoir.\ \ Good night.\ CHAPTER III. CHAPTER III. INSTANTANEOUS PHOTOGRAPHS. 39 \ Nothing is more deeply punished than the neglect of the affinities by
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which alone society
which alone society should be formed and the insane levity of choosing our associates by other s eyes,\ read a lady, musingly, as Emerson s essays fall from her knees to the soft carpet under her cushioned feet. \ Yes, nothing is more deeply punished,\ she half chanted in a musical voice, while a grave, troubled look came to the dark eyes, and a quiver of pain to the sensitive lips. \ And well do you and I know it, Tyr, though you are only a dog,\ she continued, as she patted a brown retriever beside her. \ Yes, you and I, Tyr, like only affinities; the others seem to us mongrels, and to us don t seem good. I wonder if they were so pronounced in the first week when the world was young; but fancy is
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travelling without reason;
travelling without reason; they were all thorough-breds in the good old days, and one does not read of anything like Emerson s words on affinities, or a case similar to my own; but I am half asleep, Tyr; watch by me, good old dog.\ And leaning her head back against the soft green velvet cushioned back of the rattan chair, Somnus is not wooed in vain; indeed, one might imagine the god of slumber had wound a garland of poppies about her brow, so does she sleep as an infant. As she rests, a word of her. A Canadian; a native of Toronto, with far-away English kin; above the medium height; dark, comely, and slightly embonpoint; a woman of thirty, but with that troubled look at present on her face looking older; generous, warm-hearted and conscientious; with
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last night, on
last night, on his return home from the death list meeting, he had left the front door open, and the cat had bolted. And now Trixie and Tara were out there on the streets futilely looking for it, knowing that Fenton was wholly to blame for the escape. It was obscenely possible. He tried to recall the precise moment of his return. He tried to remember having firmly shut the door. He couldn’t. In a way, then – in a very small way – it came as a relief when he heard Trixie and Tara’s bedroom door open, and heard them coming funereally up the hall. One of them was crying. No: weeping, sobbing with elemental force, hitching back air in dreadful snotty gusts. The other one was whispering soft
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words of comfort.
words of comfort. Fenton wondered, distantly, why he wasn’t striding with extreme prejudice towards the front door. In theory, there was still time to do that. There was still time, if he moved right now, to slip out undetected. But this strange inertia weighed on his limbs still. His boots seemed to be fused to the lino. In any case, he reminded himself that he had absolutely nothing to hide. They appeared. Tara was the one doing the weeping. Her face was a mess of red blotches and glossy smears. Trixie walked leadenly beside her, holding her upright with an expression of grim concern. Both were dressed in their sex-catalogue nightwear. This added an element of the grotesque to an al- ready quite disturbing scene. Trixie steered Tara to
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the dining table
the dining table and sat her down in one of its chairs. 106 At this moment Fenton dispensed with the remaining shreds of his intention to eat his breakfast there. He could dine on campus. The thing to do right now was get out the front door as soon as he decently could. From somewhere inside her nightwear Trixie produced a fresh-looking tissue and passed it to Tara. In half a second her red nose had reduced it to a sodden wad. It was unclear whether either of them had marked Fenton’s presence yet. He decided to establish it by saying something well-meaning. He stepped away from the fridge with solemn empathy. The door whispered shut.
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“Are you okay?”
“Are you okay?” he said. Tara lifted her scarlet face and looked at him with loathing. “Prick,” she matter-of-factly said. Fenton frowned politely. He looked to Trixie for clarification. Trixie said: “Bastard.” “Steady on,” he responded, nervously. “Try telling him to steady on, Fenton,” Trixie bitterly replied. And she pointed at something down on the carpet, over between the couch and the TV. A certain inevitability had descended on the scene now. Fenton had no choice but to follow the line of Trixie’s index finger, even though he didn’t want to. No, he really
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didn’t want to,
didn’t want to, because he had a pretty good idea of what he was going to see at the end of it. He was going to see Streetwise, stone dead. And so he did. The cat’s corpse lay at the foot of the couch, stretched out on its belly like a poor man’s tiger rug. It didn’t look like it was sleeping. It certainly didn’t look like it was at peace. It just looked exactly like it was dead. It had expired in the act of chewing the couch leg. Its jaws were wide open, the pornographic lips peeled back in one last eternal snarl that laid bare the white thorns of the teeth, the hideous liquorice of the gums. Its eyes were open too, blazing up in a
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tradition I believe
tradition I believe exists on the subject, and at present it only nests in the sand-hills in some parts of the coast of N.W. Norfolk. sheldrakes sheledracus jonstoni Barganders a noble coloured fowle vulpanser wch breed in cunny burrowes about norrold & other places. [Fol. 9.] Wild geese Anser ferus. scoch goose Anser scoticus. Goshander,[19] merganser. [19] This evidently refers to the Goosander, which as he says in another place most answers to the Merganser. Mergus acutirostris speciosus or Loone an handsome & specious fowle cristated & with diuided finne feet placed very backward and after the manner of all such wch the Duch call [Assf struck out] Arsvoote.[20] they haue a peculiar formation in the leggebone wch hath a long & sharpe processe extending aboue
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the thigh bone [it
the thigh bone [it struck out] they come about April & breed in the broad waters so making their nest on the water that their egges are seldom drye while they are sett on. [20] This well describes the Great-crested Grebe, which Browne rightly says comes to us about the month of April. Browne notices the peculiar formation of the tibia in this family of birds, but it had long been known. The next, named Mergus acutirostris cinereus, is most likely the same species in winter plumage. The other birds mentioned are Mergus minor, the Little Grebe or Dabchick, and M. serratus, the Red-breasted Merganser, even now known as the \ Saw-bill.\ Mergus acutarostris cinereus [another d struck out] wch seemeth to bee a difference of the former. Mergus minor the smaller diuers or
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dabchicks in riuers
dabchicks in riuers & broade waters. Mergus serratus the saw billd diuer bigger & longer than a duck distinguished from other diuers by a notable sawe bill to retaine its slipperie pray as liuing much upon eeles whereof we haue seldome fayled to find some in their bellies. Diuers other sorts of diuefowle more remarkable the mustela fusca & mustela variegata[21] the graye dunne & the variegated or partie coloured wesell so called from the resemblance it beareth vnto a wesell in the head. [21] The Smew, male and female, or either in the immature plumage are here referred to. [Fol. 12.[I]] many sorts of wild ducks[22] wch passe under names well knowne unto the fowlers though of no great signification as smee [wige struck out] widgeon Arts ankers noblets. [I]
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Fols. 10 and
Fols. 10 and 11 are (10 written on both sides) on the \ Ostridge,\ vide Wilkin, Vol. 4, p. 337-9. The paper is a different size, 11-1/2 by 7-1/2, and the article is evidently bound out of place. [22] The local names of the various Ducks are simply legion and differ both in time and place, not to mention the confusion occasioned by sex and season when these birds were not so well understood as at present. Many such names are quite lost, as \ Ankers\ and \ Noblets,\ but the following are a few examples: Adult Smew, White Nun; female or immature Smew, Wesel Coot; the Wigeon was known as the Smee, Whewer, or Whim; Notes and Letters on the Natural History of by Thomas Browne 19
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captain shook his
captain shook his head. \ No, I cannot come,\ he said; \ really I cannot, much as I should like to do so. Dr. Stewart,\ he added, a little hesitatingly, \ I trust you will not think me discourteous if I take my cousin aside for a moment.\ \ Certainly not,\ Stewart assured him. \ I will join you on the terrace,\ said Bloem, and Stewart, nodding good-by to the captain, followed the waiter, who had stood by during this exchange of greetings, and now led the way to a little table at one corner of the broad balcony looking out over the square. \ Shall I pour the coffee, sir?\ he asked, as Stewart sat down. \ No; I will wait for my companion,\
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and, as the
and, as the waiter bowed and stepped back, Stewart leaned forward with a deep breath of admiration. CHAPTER I Below him lay the green level of the Domhof, its close-clipped trees outlined stiffly against the lights behind them. Beyond rose the choir of the great cathedral, with its fretted pinnacles, and flying buttresses, and towering roof. By day, he had found its exterior somewhat cold and bare and formal, lacking somehow the subtle spirit of true Gothic; but nothing could be more beautiful than it was now, shimmering in the moonlight, bathed in luminous shadow, lace-like and mysterious. He was still absorbed in this fairy vision when Bloem rejoined him. Even in the half-light of the terrace, Stewart could see that he was deeply moved. His face, usually glowing with healthy
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color, was almost haggard;
color, was almost haggard; his eyes seemed dull and sunken. \ No bad news, I hope?\ Stewart asked. Without answering him, Bloem signaled the waiter to pour the coffee, and sat watching him in silence. \ That will do,\ he said in German; \ we will ring if we have need of you.\ Then, as the waiter withdrew, he glanced nervously about the terrace. It was deserted save for a noisy group around a table at the farther end. \ There is very bad news, my friend,\ he added, almost in a whisper. \ There is going to be–war!\ Stewart stared for an instant, astonished at the gravity of his tone. Then he nodded comprehendingly. \ Yes,\ he said; \ I had not thought of it;
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asked, his eyes
asked, his eyes narrowing. “We exchanged the usual unpleasantries,” said Norgrim. “Sytherek claims to have seen more survivors from my country,” Kaylen said. “Did you find anyone?” “Yes,” Symurall replied. “I counted more than twelve hundred, scattered along a hundred leagues of coastline.” Kaylen whooped with joy. “I see that you armed him,” the dragon said, nodding toward the overjoyed man. “He armed himself, with my permission,” Norgrim replied. “You don’t expect him to survive in the wilderness without a weapon, do you? Or do you intend to fight off every kehklik that tries to eat him?” “I merely made an observation,” said Symurall, somewhat huffishly. “Giving him a weapon may have been wise, considering the situation. A group of humans has encountered the kehklik, and the nest is now producing
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an army.” “Jozin’s Peak?”
an army.” “Jozin’s Peak?” Norgrim asked anxiously. “Yes. They will attack the beach within the week, if their past patterns of procreation are repeated.” “Why?” Kaylen asked. “Kehklik are extremely territorial,” Norgrim answered. “Even dwarves avoid their lands.” “The humans killed at least one scout,” Symurall added. \ I smelled dead foragers as well. The hive will attack.” “How big is their army?” “Hundreds,” said the dragon. “What will you do about it?” Kaylen asked. “Why should I do anything?” Symurall replied. “Saving you did not obligate me protect all humans.” 21 “More genocide by proxy!” Kaylen angrily slashing his sword at a nearby sapling, severing it cleanly. Symurall
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growled violently, slamming
growled violently, slamming his tail against the ground, shaking everything, driving the three smaller beings away. “The tree did nothing, yet you destroy it!” the dragon bellowed, nearly knocking them over with the force of his voice. “How can you wonder why I am unwilling to rush to the defense of humans?” Kaylen steadied himself, facing the dragon, dropping the sword. As the weapon clattered to the ground, he said quietly, “I shouldn’t let anger make me stupid. I’m sorry.” He walked over to the tree, looking at it sadly. Silence hung in the air. “What did you say?” the dragon asked stonily. “I apologize.” Kaylen slowly reached down, picking up the sword. “That tree didn’t deserve to die. Neither do the survivors of Tramora.” The glow faded from Symurall’s eyes, and he
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panorama of
panorama of the Pacific fill her mind before ac- knowledging the need to head back into San Diego. She rose a little stiff from the chair, her body remembering the dayPs involvement with furni- ture arrangement. The soft, white, loose-fitting cotton filled with the cool evening air as she walked from the deck, through the sliding glass doors and into the house L the ocean floating be- hind her as it ran up against the sky. She surveyed the interior once again. A womanPs prerogative, she thought. It was gen- uinely open, with clean, classic lines throughout. A spiral staircase led to
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a second floor
a second floor full of win- dows and balconies. The House was not over fur- nished. She was pleased shePd kept it to a minimum, and what shePd acquired fit the place. There was no clutter; Robert would like it. She played with the temptation to keep the place for herself and let Robert move into the penthouse. He wouldnPt mind, although she knew hePd prefer something out of town, near the ocean. For a fact he wonPt have anticipated her buying the place for him. No, she decided, still enjoying her fantasy, a dealPs a deal. He deserved to live here. After
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all he got her
all he got her to do it. She should have bought some country long ago, but shePd always been too busy. Three hundred thousand dollars, easily worth four, another special deal from an old real estate acquaintance. She made her way back to the deck for a last look, still smiling at the thought of being RobertPs — 100 — landlady, thinking of an amusing way to tell him that the landlady had visiting rights. Deciding to give herself a few more minutes to relax, Rachel settled back on the lounge. It had taken a long time and a lot of effort, but life can work out, she thought. It all made her
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feel exceptionally
feel exceptionally satisfied. Robert was all the family she had. They would be even closer now. She wondered what the parents she never knew would think of their kids now. Another twelve hours and she would pick him up at the airport, she couldnPt wait L but he wouldnPt be there, HowiePd just seen to that. It was late that same night and some three thousand miles away, but Hertzel had no inten- tion of waiting until morning L he didnPt have to, he only needed a telephone line. He pressed hard on the expensive, mono- grammed pen, his irritation working, as usual, against his better judgment.
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The fine
The fine gold tip gave in to the pressure and jammed itself into the shaft. Every time he thought of Howie and the death announcement he just got from some guy who wouldnPt give his name, the pen took a little more pressure. The phone continued its distant ring. He snapped the pen and flung it to the garbage. MOne moment, sir.N In silent anger, he noted it had already been several. He took the hand-sized pyrite paper- weight into his free hand. He couldnPt break it. — 101 — Maybe hePd throw it, through a window. MIPm
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putting you through,
putting you through, sir.N Hertzel managed to work physical hostility into his tone. MA definite understatement, lady!N He hurled the paperweight at the wall. The oversized oaf, Charley, stuck his head in the door, looking for the cause of the noise, and Hertzel shot him with his eyes. Charley picked up the bullets and slipped back out as discreetly as his size would allow. MThank you for waiting.N The line clicked, and then clicked again, threatening to disconnect HertzelPs Brownsville L Austin link. The call went through to a mechanical voice, infuriating Hertzel more, telling him all about the senator from the Rio Grande and how they would be glad to take his call in the morning, or
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Watching the Dowager
Watching the Dowager guardedly, Aviler said, \ We have some knowledge about his early life. Urbain Grandier was a Bisran sorcerer and scholar, though it is believed his father was from Ile-Rien, possibly a visiting priest, or even a noble, journeying there during one of the temporary treaties in force in the year of Grandier s birth. This would explain his surname, which is certainly not Bisran. Stubbornly, he refused to take another name, and this probably contributed to the suspicion with which he was regarded there.\ She frowned at her embroidery. \ His original offense was some outrage concerning nuns, and the Bisran Church removed his sanction to perform sorcery? And then he was arrested by the Inquisition?\ \ Yes, my lady. After his escape from the Inquisition, Grandier brought on a plague and
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apparently made subtle changes
apparently made subtle changes in the weather over the Kiseran plain, some of their richest farmland, and destroyed most of their last year s harvest. The Bisran theurgic sorcerers are said to be near exhaustion with holding off magical attacks on Church officials and the War College.\ Ravenna smiled tightly without looking up from her embroidery. She hated Bisra even more than she had hated her dead husband, the old king Fulstan. \ One might point out that it is nothing more than they deserve.\ \ One might,\ Aviler agreed. \ But the point is that Grandier has suddenly chosen to come to Ile-Rien.\ Chapter Two Thomas shook his head, briefly amused. Aviler s relationship with the Dowager Queen was an acrimonious one.
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19 For her
19 For her part Ravenna merely studied the High Minister a moment. Her fine long-fingered hands had paused on the embroidery, the gold needle catching the firelight. That might mean anything; Thomas had known her to order an execution, explain to the culprit why it had to be done, and deny the family s fervent pleas for mercy, all without missing a stitch. Then she drew the strand of thread up tight and said, \ Tell me about the events at the convent, Lord Aviler.\ She nodded to her gentlewoman. \ Lady Anne knows she has permission to leave the room should she hear anything that causes her to fear for her modesty.\ As Lady Anne bit her lip and looked studiously at the floor, Aviler frowned and said, \ The original
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incident took place at
incident took place at a convent in a town called Lindre, in the northern part of Bisra. Grandier was accused of corrupting the nuns, causing them to blaspheme against their own Church, to attack each other, to perform rituals that…\ \ According to the Inquisitors General of Bisra,\ Galen Dubell interrupted gently, \ he caused them to corrupt themselves.\ The old scholar had moved toward the hearth and was staring into the fire, an expression in his eyes that Thomas couldn t interpret. \ They found evidence of human blood used in rituals, symbols and books banned for centuries, the darkest magic… There was even some evidence of an agreement with a Lord of Hell.\ As the others watched Dubell in silence, Thomas said, \ In Bisra they still burn hedgepriests for putting
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sun releases quanta
sun releases quanta as its gases either expand or contract. In the case of expansion, Light quanta are thrown outward, whereas in the case of contraction, sound quanta are squeezed out like a sponge expelling water. Cycles of expansion produce quanta which carry a light frequency that is directly related to the gas of their origin, and which produce a color on what is called the Light spectrum. Cycles of contraction produce quanta which carry a vibratory frequency that is directly related to the gas of their origin, and which share the spectrum with Light quanta. This is Sound quanta. There are nineteen cycles of contracting gaseous states, and seventeen cycles of expanding gaseous states, perpetually creating quanta, which are required for the cyclic patterns of creation, growth, destruction and renewal. Expansion and contraction of the sun goes on simultaneously, because its structure involves
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many energy emitting
many energy emitting gases, all of which expand and contract in accordance with each one’s unique elemental makeup. Nineteen cycles of contraction opposing seventeen cycles of expansion are required to balance the inequality which naturally exists between these two activities. Each set of 19 + 17 cycles constitutes a cycle in and of itself. The minor cycles each relate to a particular physical property which can be manipulated by prodding the entangled twin of a particular particle. Shortly, we will be discussing the universal forces we know as Runic Forces. These are extensions of the “All”; but just briefly, let me say that the combined efforts of two Runes: Ánsur and Thurisar , serve the “All’s” purpose in prodding entangled twins. Please note that I am using here, the Old Norse form of the Runes. This concept of entangled twins
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has its foundation
has its foundation in quantum theory, with entanglement being its defining trait. For a functional understanding, we must be able to perceive: 1) How the cycles of expansion and contraction operate harmoniously, and 2) Just what it is we mean by particular physical properties. For the most part, for each cycle of expansion, there is one of contraction. However, since the expansion cycle is slightly more active, we have two contraction cycles after the eighth expansion, and two contraction cycles after the sixteenth expansion. Graphically speaking, it looks like this: Expansion: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 Contraction: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 (8-9) 10 11 12 13 14
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15 (16-17) 18
15 (16-17) 18 19 Evolution occurs on the cycles of expansion, and devolution occurs on the cycles of contraction. Therefore, evolution and devolution follow each other in a cyclic pattern, while seventeen physical properties are affected, one at a time. The physical properties being referenced are as follows: 1. Level of consciousness 2. Nature of consciousness 3. Level of Intelligence 4. Nature of Intelligence 5. Level of Strength 6. Nature of Strength 7. State of Being 8. Quality of Being 9. Quality of Momentum 10. Nature of Momentum 11. Level of Experience 12. Nature of Experience 13. Quality of Light 14. Intensity of Light 15. Quantity of Sound 16. Vibratory Harmony to the Sound Current 17. Position
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oldest is commonly dated at \\ not later than 1450\\ . The song itself, however, is thought to be much older, dating probably from the latter part of the 14th century. Its place of origin is uncertain, with both Sweden and Denmark contending for the honor. The fact that the text printed by Hans Thomisson is identical, except for minor variations in dialect, with that of the oldest Swedish manuscript proves, at least, that the same version was also current in Danish, and that no conclusion as to its origin can now be drawn from the chance preservation of its text in Sweden. The following translation is based on Grundtvig s splendid revision of the song for the thousand years festival of the Danish church.[1] With gladness we hail the blessed day Now out of the sea ascending, Illuming the

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earth upon its

earth upon its way And cheer to all mortals lending. God grant that His children everywhere May prove that the night is ending. How blest was that wondrous midnight hour When Jesus was born of Mary! Then dawned in the East with mighty power The day that anew shall carry The light of God s grace to every soul That still with the Lord would tarry. Should every creature in song rejoice, And were every leaflet singing, They could not His grace and glory voice, Though earth with their praise were ringing, For henceforth now shines the Light of Life, Great joy to all mortals bringing. Like gold is the blush of morning bright, When day has from death arisen. Blest comfort too holds the peaceful night When skies in the sunset glisten. So sparkle

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the eyes of

the eyes of those whose hearts In peace for God s summons listen. Then journey we to our fatherland, Where summer reigns bright and vernal. Where ready for us God s mansions stand With thrones in their halls supernal. So happily there with friends of light We joy in the peace eternal. In this imperishable song, Pre-Reformation hymnody reached its highest excellence, an excellence that later hymnody seldom has surpassed. \\ The Old Christian Day Song\\ shows, besides, that Northern hymnwriters even \\ during the time of popery\\ had caught the true spirit of Evangelical hymnody. Their songs were few, and they were often bandied about like homeless waifs, but they embodied the purest Christian ideals of that day and served in a measure to link the old church with the new.

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he, as he
he, as he expected of us; if we wish to be like our concept of God, then it is imperative that we be in a position to control our own destiny after death. Taking control rather than being someone else’s dupe can be a very fulfilling prospect for those who come to an understanding of what lies beyond this life, other than some vague notion of heaven, hell, or a spirit world. Upon leaving this body, we may encounter “astral clowns”, or we may encounter the forces of Dominion who will entice us with tonal frequencies and light rays designed to provide us with feelings of joy and bliss so that we will believe them to be emissaries of a loving and benevolent God. Those of us with protective shields will not be affected, however, and we will remain free to follow the directives of the Higher
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Self. For those
Self. For those of us who feel that we might benefit from support provided by others, there are very positive beings who will await our call for assistance. These are spirit warrior emissaries of a being known to the ancients as Odin. They were referred to by our Northern European ancestors as the Einherjar (pronounced: eye-n-her-yar), or Odin’s Chosen. Don’t be afraid that by escaping from hell, that you are being sucked into Odinism, because you are not. However, it is your birthright if you are of European heritage, to receive assistance from this source. For those who are not of European descent, simply send out your call for assistance through the Higher Self, and it will be forthcoming from those whom your Higher Self will help you to recognize. If you trust no one, then simply follow the directives of your Higher Self, and you will remain
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free from all
free from all outside influences. There are vast worlds of great beauty to be explored, or you may choose to be with certain loved ones who may come to escort you from this life. For religionists, there are those who have built both their heavens and spirit worlds throughout the astral realms. Some, however, find comfort in creating their own environment. If you have done what is required in escaping hell, though, I recommend that you avoid the third dimensional astral realm at all costs. Follow your Higher Self. After all that we have discussed, it would seem that we are home free at this point. Actually, we are at the final gate, and it is an illusion requiring our understanding of a very important issue for it to be dispelled. This is a trap involving the perception of our universe’s creative force as perceived in the Biblical god.
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Our acknowledgement of
Our acknowledgement of the “All” is insufficient, if our perception of it is deficient. We have all been taught through religion, society and family, that God is our Father in Heaven, and that we were created in his image. In other words, we have never perceived God in terms of anything but our limited, dualistic mindset. Our belief in God’s male gender implies that he exists within the worlds of dualism, and therefore implies also, that he is subject to the laws of the material worlds. The “All”, sometimes referred to as the “Source”, or as the “One”, cannot be compartmentalized and described as we would an object or person. It can only be hinted at, referred to, or at best, described in vague terms. It is not something you can put your finger on and say “that’s God”. The “All” is simply everything. It’s in the
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are all so
are all so utterly lost. I could not have asked you if our mother had lingered; but your faithful charge, my poor Milly, is over–your martyrdom, as Betha called it. She was so bright, and loved to have things so bright round her, that your imprisonment in the sickroom quite oppressed her. It was \ poor Milly,\ \ our dear good Milly,\ to the last. I wish her girls were more like her; but she only laughed at their odd ways, and told me I should live to be proud of them. Olive is as left-handed as ever, and Chrissy little better. Richard is mannish, but impracticable, and a little difficult to understand. We should none of us get on at all but for Roy: he has his mother s heart-sunshine and loving smile;
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but even Roy
but even Roy has his failures. We want a woman among us, Milly–a woman with head and hands, and a tolerable stock of patience. Even Heriot is in difficulties, but that will keep till you come–for you will come, will you not, my dear? Come! how could you doubt me, Arnold? replied Mildred, as she laid down the letter; but God help me and them followed close on the sigh. After all, it is a clear call to duty, she soliloquised. It is not my business to decide on my fitness or unfitness, CHAPTER I 41 or to measure myself to my niche. We are not promised strength before the time, and no
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one can tell
one can tell before he tries whether he be likely to fail. Richard s mannishness, and Olive s left-handed ways, and Chrissy s poorer imitation, shall not daunt me. Arnold wants me. I shall be of use to some one again, and I will go. But Mildred, for all her bravery, grew a little pale over her brother s second letter:– You must come at once, and not wait to summer and winter it, or, as some of our old women say, \ to bide the bitterment on t.\ Shall I send Richard to help you about your house business, and to settle your goods and chattels? Let the old furniture go, Milly; it has stood a fair amount of wear and tear, and you are young yet, my dear. Shall I send Dick? He was his mother s
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right hand. The
right hand. The lad s mannish for his nineteen years. Mannish again! This Richard began to be formidable. He was a bright well-looking lad of thirteen when Mildred had seen him last. But she remembered his mother s fond descriptions of Cardie s cleverness and goodness. One sentence had particularly struck her at the time. Betha had been comparing her boys, and dwelling on their good points with a mother s partiality. As to Roy, he needs no praise of mine; he stands so well in every one s estimation–and in his own, too–that a little fault-finding would do him good. Cardie is different: his diffidence takes the form of pride; no one understands him but I–not even his father. The one speaks out too much, and the other too little; but one of these days he will find out his
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about Grandier s
about Grandier s intentions. His own men had obeyed their orders and come no further than the front hall, so they had been able to escape the fire. There had been one casualty. Gaspard, one of the men who had been posted in the court behind the house, had been hit by a splintered piece of flaming wood as he tried to escape from the explosion. His back and shoulder had been badly burned and he d only escaped worse by rolling in the muddy street. Dubell had insisted on treating the injury immediately, and Thomas had been only too glad to permit it. Now Gaspard sat on a stone bench in the shelter of a hostler s stall, his shirt and doublet cut away so Dubell could treat the blistering wound. The servant Berham was handing the sorcerer supplies from
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Dr. Braun s
Dr. Braun s medical box and Dr. Braun himself was hovering at Dubell s elbow. Thomas suspected that Berham was providing more practical assistance than the younger sorcerer. \ The fire is hardly our fault\ Gideon shrugged. \ Blame Grandier for it.\ \ Yes, he s a cunning bastard.\ Gideon glanced at him, frowning. \ How do you mean?\ Thomas didn t answer. Dubell had finished tying the bandage and Martin helped Gaspard stand. As Castero led their horses forward, Thomas nudged his mare close enough to be heard over the shouting and the roar of the fire. \ Gaspard, I want you to ride with Martin.\ \ Sir, I do not need to be carried.\ The younger man s face was flushed and sickly.
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\ That was
\ That was not a request, Sir.\ Thomas was in no mood for a debate. \ You can ride behind him or you can hang head down over his saddlebow; the choice is yours.\ Gaspard looked less combative as he contemplated that thought, and let Martin pull him unresisting to the horses. Berham was packing the medical box under Braun s direction and Dubell was staring at the fire. Thomas had been considering the question of why Grandier had not killed Galen Dubell. The answer could simply be that Grandier might have wanted to extract information from the old scholar, and his plan had gone awry when the King s Watch located the house. But somehow he didn t think it was going to be simple. The fire should have started when I broke
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the glass ball.
the glass ball. Yes, it served the purpose of destroying Grandier s papers, but why not kill all the birds with one stone? Unless he wanted us to rescue Dubell. But why? To announce his presence? To show them how powerful and frightening he was? To make them distrust Dubell? Chapter One As Berham took the box away to pack on his horse, Thomas waved Dr. Braun over and leaned down to ask him, \ Is it possible for Grandier to… tamper with another sorcerer, to put a geas on him?\ 11 Braun looked shocked. \ A geas can be laid on an untrained mind, yes, but not on a sorcerer like Dr. Dubell.\ \ Are you very sure about that?\
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The giants walked
The giants walked past him, checking the rear area of the restaurant as Enrico came up beside them, his five-hundred- dollar suit shimmering. MNow, stand up.N The senator pulled himself up from his chair again. MTurn around.N He obeyed and underwent a quick frisk. One of them returned from the back, indicated it was secure, and headed toward the front of the — 73 — restaurant. MYour turn.N Hertzel looked quizzical. MMe? You donPt need to search me, my friend. IPm a businessman.N MGet up!N What Enrico lacked in subtlety he made up for with nonnegotiable authority. MGet up and turn around. Now!N
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Hertzel got the
Hertzel got the impact and buried further dis- cussion. He preferred nonchalance. MOkay. Suit yourself.N Enrico did, making a point of handling him roughly, spinning him back around close to his face. MSit down.N Hertzel sat. His introductions over, he stepped back as Lorraine, LuisP eye-catching companion, joined them. MMister Estaphan is not in the best of spirits. I advised him not to come.N She looked directly at Hertzel. MBut he insisted on meeting you, Mister uh -N MMarkovitz.N He stood and held out his hand. Finding no takers, he repeated his name. MHertzel Markovitz. And IPm honored.N He was flattered over the
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manPs desire
manPs desire to meet him, despite his poor health. MI wouldnPt necessarily consider it good news,N said Lorraine. The disdain in the womanPs comment brought HertzelPs imperious thoughts down several units. But who was she? Some dumb bitch secretary, he thought. MWell,N he said, Mperhaps we could get on with this meeting?N — 74 — She smiled coldly. MBy all means.N She turned away as if he was never there. Enrico stepped back against the small parti- tion that separated them from the main dining area. He stared hard, moving quickly and in- tensely between the two of them. Cold and pene- trating, a bird
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of prey. Within minutes,
of prey. Within minutes, Lorraine returned pushing Estaphan. Hertzel found the whole picture per- plexing, not what hePd expected of a big-time mob boss. MYou were expecting something else, Mister Markovitz?N Estaphan smiled weakly. MAl Capone, perhaps?N Hertzel laughed nervously. He started to stand, to introduce himself properly, got EnricoPs menacing look telling him not to bother, and went conversational instead. MItPs a pleasure to meet you, Mister Estaphan.N Estaphan nodded the acknowledgment and addressed the senator. MHow are you, Senator? Well, since our meeting last night?N MYes, thank you.N The senator was quiet, ab- normally so. When a glass of bottled water arrived by LuisP
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side, Lorraine held
side, Lorraine held it to his lips while he sipped the tiniest amount. Everything waited while she helped him drink. She helped him with a lot of things. Hertzel glanced across at the senator, half-thinking the whole things a joke, some mon- strous gag the senator had cooked up just to mess his head. The senator refused to return the look, kept his eyes on the old man, where his bread got — 75 — buttered. MI certainly hope I havenPt inconvenienced you, bringing you all the way up here for such a mod- est reason.N He was looking at Hertzel. MI wanted to meet the man who can turn a hundred thou- sand
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dollar salvage operation
dollar salvage operation into a quarter mil- lion dollar insurance claim.N Hertzel said nothing, got confused, and glanced quickly across at the senator for hints. He got none. MWell, uh, I donPt know what to say.N He didnPt know which way the flag flew at the mo- ment, at least not on the basis of the senatorPs ear- lier input, input Hertzel figured might be no more than jealous sabotage because the old man liked his style. Hertzel thought he was figuring it. MNo need to say anything, Hertzel. May I call you Hertzel?N Hertzel nodded, smiled congenially and confi- dently. MMost people today are afraid to step out, to take a chance. But you, an entrepreneur.N He stopped for another sip.
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“Thank you,” Kaylen
“Thank you,” Kaylen said, walking around the room, testing the boots Norgrim had given him. “They’re a bit big, but I’ll take that over bare feet.” “You’re welcome,” replied the dwarf, who was pouring more beer. The man sat down. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I never expected to see a living dwarf. I thought you were just characters in fairy tales.\ He decided against mentioning the Yaneshi lawn ornaments. Norgrim shrugged. “I never expected to see a human. Your kind went extinct before I was born.” He plunked two large mugs on the table, and added, with a grin, “Or so I was taught.” “At least I’ve heard of dwarves. But you…” Kaylen nodded toward the lizard. “I’ve never heard
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of anyone like
of anyone like you.” Tohkay lay atop a nearby bench, his purple forked tongue flicking in and out of a large bowl of water. “I am a See’ee’ah,” said the lizard, sharp clicks coming from his throat between the musical syllables. “My homeland is in the jungles of Wyvernrift, far to the south.” “And you’re both friendly with the dragon?” “Symurall?” Norgrim said. “He’s a good fellow, if a bit imperious. Living for thousands of years does that to a person, I guess.” Kaylen tore off another chunk of bread. “What was that creature that attacked me?” “A kehklik.” “More precisely, a kehklik scout,” added Tohkay. “Their hives breed different forms: scouts, foragers, warriors, breeders, as per the requirements of the hive. Most lack intelligence, and they appear to be directed by
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a special leader
a special leader class, which we call overseers. Speculation is…” “Yes, yes!” Norgrim interrupted insistently. “Let’s save the lectures for later, shall we?” “Ignorance is suicidal,” Tohkay stated. 12 Kaylen laughed, leaned back, and closed his eyes. “Suicide won’t be an option if Symurall eats me.” Norgrim chuckled. “You don’t look very appetizing. He’d rather have these.” He patted two extremely large sausages that they’d brought in from the burros. “Symurall has a weakness for the spicy stuff, though it gives him bad breath. Not that dragon breath is ever pleasant.” “Dragons require respect,” admonished Tohkay. “Certain dwarves forget that sometimes.” Norgrim grunted. “If Symurall hasn’t devoured me yet, he never will.”
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quadrangle to a
quadrangle to a chorus of shouts, “Who do you think you are, thete? Get off my quadrangle! Stand over there so we can line up a squad.” I stood at the edge of the gallery facing in toward the quadrangle just to the left of a thick column and with the stairwell further on to my left. This, I would learn, was where we would always form up before running out – yelling – onto the quadrangle in a group. “Who are you, thete?” Mr Sinclair said in a tone that left no doubt that I had made a big mistake. I answered using the formula that Mr Sardis had taught me on the stairs. “And how is anyone going
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to know that?”
to know that?” I stood mute, as it dawned on me that I should have put my name tag on. “Get back to your room and get your name tag! Put it here,” he ordered, pointing to his name tag on the left side of his shirt over the flap of his pocket. “Go! Go! Go! Run, thete! One at a time! One at a time!” Back up the stairs, back down the stairs, shouting out requests to drive up, down, or around, I made the circuit again. This time, I came back and stood at attention where I had been. So far, I was still the only one there, though I suspect some of my classmates might have been sent back in the meantime for their name tags as well. “It‟s
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the early worm,”
the early worm,” expounded Sergeant Gunn. “You know, the one that gets devoured? Wipe that smile off your face, thete! Now hit it and give me ten.” This I knew was the order to pump out ten push-ups. Half-way through, Sergeant Jung rushed up to me, knelt down and shouted in my ear, “We‟re not doing push-ups yet. Those come later! Stand up, thete!” 21 Of course, as I was
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at
at this point expecting, Sergeant Gunn smiled grimly at me and demanded, “Why didn‟t you finish my push-ups?” And the shouting back and forth in one ear and then in the other and then in both simultaneously faded into a menacing drone. Through it all, I barely heard the outraged voice of Mr Jarmon shouting at one of my classmates, “You‟re supposed to salute me when you report for duty, thete!” At last, there were ten of us lined up on the gallery, all being yelled at in the same manner. First Sergeant Woodward was still standing behind the desk, which now had six more cadet recruits lined up, looking anywhere between nervous and terrified. Mr Woodward
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