Read Online The Bronze of Eddarta by Randall Garrett - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Randall Garrett
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surely …” I took the first step down, and he hurriedly opened the door. “No matter, Yoman, it’s none of my affair. But—I do mean this, my friend—I
am
glad you’ve come to your senses. All we heard were rumors, remember.” He ducked out the door.
I wonder what he meant by that?
I thought, as I turned back to Tarani—just in time to see her start to fall.
“Tarani!”
I whispered, as I caught her under her arms and tried, clumsily, to disentangle her from the backpack. She was limp against my chest, a dead weight that was almost too much for me to handle.
The illusions did it
, I told myself.
On top of all that physical exertion, the psychic strain was too much. Why the hell didn’t she tell me? Damn it, if she’s pushed herself too far …
I finally freed the backpack and dropped it to the floor. She had slipped down until she was nearly on her knees, and I was badly off balance. I was beginning to worry that I’d topple over backward and drag us both down the stairs, when she moved a little and clutched at my waist. I helped her as she pulled herself to her feet.
“Sorry,” she murmured, still half-dazed. “I’ll be all right soon—”
“A good night’s sleep won’t hurt you any,” I said gruffly, as I lifted her in my arms. “Let’s see if we can find Rassa’s bedroom.”
Cradled against my chest, Tarani’s weight was manageable. It was relief, not fear of dropping her, that made my arms hold her so tightly.
I knelt down and laid her on the fluffy pallet in the smaller of the two bedrooms.
She propped herself on one elbow as I sat down beside her. There were two windows in this room, open to the night. The faint starlight, and stray beams from street lamps, gave us enough light to see each other. Her face, always delicate, looked fragile in the gray light.
“Why didn’t you warn me that the illusions of Yoman and Rassa would cost you so dearly?”
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I’ve never tried to sustain an illusion for such a long period of time.”
“Or for someone else?” I asked.
“Yes, that was a factor, too.”
“You could have told me, when you felt the strain,” I said, trying not to sound like I was accusing her.
“In Dyskornis, you said we had to be able to depend on one another, Rikardon. I had said I could hold the illusion; I had to see it through.”
She only did what I’d have done, myself
, I admitted.
Except that I couldn’t have done it at all. Which is why she’s here, isn’t it? She’s right—I can’t preach teamwork and then tell one of the players not to do her part.
“I can’t argue with that,” I said, and started to get up. Her free hand caught my arm and I paused, kneeling very close to her.
“Rikardon, your caring … it touches me deeply.”
I felt the world shifting and changing around me.
The image of Tarani and Thymas together had burned itself in my memory, and I saw it again now, but with a different perspective. Then, and on the following nights, the remembered scene had seemed confirmation of Tarani’s continuing affection for Thymas, and I had kept myself a scrupulous distance from the girl, especially in my thoughts as we rode together.
But there was no mistaking the invitation in her voice and posture, and another scene rose vividly in memory—the evening we had talked in Dyskornis and, in the most cautious of language, admitted the attraction we felt for one another. The scene in Stomestad was driven out of my memory. Tarani was with me, here and now, and emotions too powerful to be called “affection” were at work in both of us.
I leaned across the few inches which separated us, and kissed her. I meant it as a message of reassurance and of closeness. But in the next moment we were clinging tightly to one another, swept up in passion and physical need. The abruptness and intensity of those feelings disturbed me, and I pulled myself away from her.
She didn’t say anything, but her dark eyes were
am
glad you’ve come to your senses. All we heard were rumors, remember.” He ducked out the door.
I wonder what he meant by that?
I thought, as I turned back to Tarani—just in time to see her start to fall.
“Tarani!”
I whispered, as I caught her under her arms and tried, clumsily, to disentangle her from the backpack. She was limp against my chest, a dead weight that was almost too much for me to handle.
The illusions did it
, I told myself.
On top of all that physical exertion, the psychic strain was too much. Why the hell didn’t she tell me? Damn it, if she’s pushed herself too far …
I finally freed the backpack and dropped it to the floor. She had slipped down until she was nearly on her knees, and I was badly off balance. I was beginning to worry that I’d topple over backward and drag us both down the stairs, when she moved a little and clutched at my waist. I helped her as she pulled herself to her feet.
“Sorry,” she murmured, still half-dazed. “I’ll be all right soon—”
“A good night’s sleep won’t hurt you any,” I said gruffly, as I lifted her in my arms. “Let’s see if we can find Rassa’s bedroom.”
Cradled against my chest, Tarani’s weight was manageable. It was relief, not fear of dropping her, that made my arms hold her so tightly.
I knelt down and laid her on the fluffy pallet in the smaller of the two bedrooms.
She propped herself on one elbow as I sat down beside her. There were two windows in this room, open to the night. The faint starlight, and stray beams from street lamps, gave us enough light to see each other. Her face, always delicate, looked fragile in the gray light.
“Why didn’t you warn me that the illusions of Yoman and Rassa would cost you so dearly?”
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I’ve never tried to sustain an illusion for such a long period of time.”
“Or for someone else?” I asked.
“Yes, that was a factor, too.”
“You could have told me, when you felt the strain,” I said, trying not to sound like I was accusing her.
“In Dyskornis, you said we had to be able to depend on one another, Rikardon. I had said I could hold the illusion; I had to see it through.”
She only did what I’d have done, myself
, I admitted.
Except that I couldn’t have done it at all. Which is why she’s here, isn’t it? She’s right—I can’t preach teamwork and then tell one of the players not to do her part.
“I can’t argue with that,” I said, and started to get up. Her free hand caught my arm and I paused, kneeling very close to her.
“Rikardon, your caring … it touches me deeply.”
I felt the world shifting and changing around me.
The image of Tarani and Thymas together had burned itself in my memory, and I saw it again now, but with a different perspective. Then, and on the following nights, the remembered scene had seemed confirmation of Tarani’s continuing affection for Thymas, and I had kept myself a scrupulous distance from the girl, especially in my thoughts as we rode together.
But there was no mistaking the invitation in her voice and posture, and another scene rose vividly in memory—the evening we had talked in Dyskornis and, in the most cautious of language, admitted the attraction we felt for one another. The scene in Stomestad was driven out of my memory. Tarani was with me, here and now, and emotions too powerful to be called “affection” were at work in both of us.
I leaned across the few inches which separated us, and kissed her. I meant it as a message of reassurance and of closeness. But in the next moment we were clinging tightly to one another, swept up in passion and physical need. The abruptness and intensity of those feelings disturbed me, and I pulled myself away from her.
She didn’t say anything, but her dark eyes were