Compleat Traveller in Black Read Online Free PDF

thigh where a sword rested in a black scabbard. “Who tire you?” he demanded. “And where are you from, that you don’t recognize me?”
    Nettled, Bernard rejoined, “Unless you had taken part in a circus, or been exhibited at the zoo, I would not presume to do so!”
    Horse-head and man-head reared back together in appalled amazement, and the sword whined brightly through the air. Feeling he must have to do with a creature whose mind was as abnormal as its body, Bernard had already stepped discreetly out of range when the blade flashed by.
    “I am Jorkas!” shrieked the man-horse creature. “Now dare you still say you do not know me?”
    Alarmed at the behavior of this composite personage, Bernard replied in a tone as civil as could be expected, given the attack with the sword, “No, sir, I do not, and I may say that your actions give me little cause to wish we had become acquainted earlier.”
    The man-face contorted with unbelievable rage, and the sword swung aloft for a second blow as the horse-body danced three steps towards Bernard. He was on the point of making an inglorious – and predictably ill-fated – retreat when a sudden ringing noise indicated that the weapon had struck something very resistant indeed in its downward passage. Indeed, the creature was shaking its sword-arm as though it had been numbed clear to the shoulder.
    The obstacle the blade had encountered was a glittering staff, upheld in the firm grip of a black-clad man who had somehow contrived to approach without being noticed. This person was now standing back, leaning on the staff, and regarding Jorkas with a wry expression.
    Jorkas shrugged, sheathed his sword, and took up his instrument again. His horse-legs bore him cantering away, and when he was out of sight around the next bend his countertenor voice was once more heard raised in song.
    “It seems, sir,” Bernard said to his rescuer, wiping his face and not unduly surprised to find he was perspiring, “that I owe you a debt of gratitude. I confess I was not prepared to meet anyone – or anything – like that in this quiet lane.”
    The black-clad one smiled, a faraway look in his eyes. “It’s true,” he said matter-of-factly, “I did render some small service, but you’ll have the chance to pay it back a hundredfold. Meantime, I’d add a smidgin of advice. If you expect nothing and everything, you will do well.”
    Settling his jacket more comfortably around his shoulders, Bernard blinked several times in succession. “Well, sir, taken whichever way, I cannot see your advice proving unsound. Particularly if this neighborhood is populated by more amazing freaks like Jorkas!”
    “Yes, he bears the imprint of chaos,” said the man in black. “He is left over, so to speak. He is fairly harmless now; events have passed him by, and his power grows small.”
    “That sword, had it attained its target, would scarcely have been harmless,” Bernard pointed out. “One blow could have disposed of me. … Has he escaped from some – some fantastic menagerie?”
    “He has rather endured from a period of confusion,” was the reply, which though apparently meaningful served not at all to lessen either Bernard’s puzzlement or his alarm. He decided, nonetheless, to forgo further inquiry into the matter, and to revert to his primary preoccupation.
    “Can you, sir, tell me: where’s the London road?”
    “I can,” said the other with a chuckle. “But it would be of small help if I did, since you cannot come to it from here. No, pay attention, and I will give directions that will eventually bring you where you wish to be.”
    Since that was the best the stranger was willing to offer, Bernard had perforce to nod acceptance.
    “Go forward from here,” said his mentor, “until you reach three alder trees standing alone in a meadow. You will recognize them readily enough. Stand before them and bow three times, then take the path around them. In a little while it will bring