Shadows of Sanctuary978-0441806010 Read Online Free PDF
Author: Robert Asprin
have more to talk about than I believed, frejojan.'
The Maze confused even Wess, by the time they reached the small building where Lythande stopped. Wess was feeling dizzy from the blow to her head, but she was confident that she was not dangerously hurt. Lythande opened a low door and ducked inside. Wess followed.
Lythande picked up a candle. The wick sparked. In the centre of the dark room, a shiny spot reflected the glow. The wick burst into flame and the spot of reflection grew. Wess blinked. The reflection spread into a sphere, taller than Lythande, the colour and texture of deep water, blue-grey, shimmering. It balanced on its lower curve, bulging slightly so it was not quite perfectly round.
'Follow me. Westerly.'
Lythande walked towards the sphere. Its surface rippled at her approach. She stepped into it. It closed around her, and all Wess could see was a wavering figure, beyond the surface, and the spot of light from the candle flame. She touched the sphere gingerly with her fingertip. It was wet. Taking a deep breath, she put her hand through the surface.
It froze her fast; she could not proceed, she could not escape, she could not move. Even her voice was captured.
After a moment Lythande surfaced. Her hair sparkled with drops of water, but her clothes were dry. She stood frowning at Wess, lines of thought bracketing the star on her forehead. Then her brow cleared and she grasped Wess's wrist.
'Don't fight it, little sister,' she said. 'Don't fight me.'
The blue star glittered in the darkness, its points sparking with new light. Against great resistance, Lythande drew Wess's hand from the sphere. The cuff of Wess's shirt was cold and sodden. In only a few seconds the water had wrinkled her fingers. The sphere freed her suddenly and she nearly fell, but Lythande caught and supported her.
'What happened?'
Still holding her up, Lythande reached into the water and drew it aside like a curtain. She urged Wess towards the division. Unwillingly, Wess took a shaky step forward, and Lythande helped her inside. The surface closed behind them. Lythande eased Wess down on the platform that flowed out smoothly from the inside curve. Wess expected it to be wet, but it was resilient and smooth and slightly warm.
'What happened?' she asked again.
'The sphere is a protection against other sorcerers.'
'I'm not a sorcerer.'
'I believe you believe that. If I thought you were deceiving me, I would kill you. But if you are not a sorcerer, it is only because you are not trained.'
Wess started to protest, but Lythande waved her to silence.
'Now I understand how you eluded me in the streets.'
'I'm a hunter,' Wess said irritably. 'What good would a hunter be, who couldn't move silently and fast?'
'No, it was more than that. I put a mark on you, and you threw it off. No one has ever done that before.'
'I didn't do it, either.'
'Let us not argue, frejojan. There isn't time.'
She inspected the cut, then dipped her hand into the side of the sphere, brought out a handful of water, and washed away the sticky drying blood. Her touch was warm and soothing, as expert as Quartz's.
'Why did you bring me here?'
'So we could talk unobserved.'
'What about?'
'I want to ask you something first. Why did you think I was a woman?'
Wess frowned and gazed into the depths of the floor. Her boot dimpled the surface, like the foot of a water-strider.
'Because you are a woman,' she said. 'Why you pretend you are not, I don't know.'
'That is not the question,' Lythande said. 'The question is why you called me
"sister" the moment you saw me. No one, sorcerer. or otherwise, has ever glanced at me once and known me for what I am. You could place me, and yourself, in great danger. How did you know?'
'I just knew,' Wess said. 'It was obvious. I didn't look at you and wonder if you were a man or a woman. I saw you, and I thought, how beautiful, how elegant she is. She looks wise. She looks like she could help us. So I called to you.'
'And
The Maze confused even Wess, by the time they reached the small building where Lythande stopped. Wess was feeling dizzy from the blow to her head, but she was confident that she was not dangerously hurt. Lythande opened a low door and ducked inside. Wess followed.
Lythande picked up a candle. The wick sparked. In the centre of the dark room, a shiny spot reflected the glow. The wick burst into flame and the spot of reflection grew. Wess blinked. The reflection spread into a sphere, taller than Lythande, the colour and texture of deep water, blue-grey, shimmering. It balanced on its lower curve, bulging slightly so it was not quite perfectly round.
'Follow me. Westerly.'
Lythande walked towards the sphere. Its surface rippled at her approach. She stepped into it. It closed around her, and all Wess could see was a wavering figure, beyond the surface, and the spot of light from the candle flame. She touched the sphere gingerly with her fingertip. It was wet. Taking a deep breath, she put her hand through the surface.
It froze her fast; she could not proceed, she could not escape, she could not move. Even her voice was captured.
After a moment Lythande surfaced. Her hair sparkled with drops of water, but her clothes were dry. She stood frowning at Wess, lines of thought bracketing the star on her forehead. Then her brow cleared and she grasped Wess's wrist.
'Don't fight it, little sister,' she said. 'Don't fight me.'
The blue star glittered in the darkness, its points sparking with new light. Against great resistance, Lythande drew Wess's hand from the sphere. The cuff of Wess's shirt was cold and sodden. In only a few seconds the water had wrinkled her fingers. The sphere freed her suddenly and she nearly fell, but Lythande caught and supported her.
'What happened?'
Still holding her up, Lythande reached into the water and drew it aside like a curtain. She urged Wess towards the division. Unwillingly, Wess took a shaky step forward, and Lythande helped her inside. The surface closed behind them. Lythande eased Wess down on the platform that flowed out smoothly from the inside curve. Wess expected it to be wet, but it was resilient and smooth and slightly warm.
'What happened?' she asked again.
'The sphere is a protection against other sorcerers.'
'I'm not a sorcerer.'
'I believe you believe that. If I thought you were deceiving me, I would kill you. But if you are not a sorcerer, it is only because you are not trained.'
Wess started to protest, but Lythande waved her to silence.
'Now I understand how you eluded me in the streets.'
'I'm a hunter,' Wess said irritably. 'What good would a hunter be, who couldn't move silently and fast?'
'No, it was more than that. I put a mark on you, and you threw it off. No one has ever done that before.'
'I didn't do it, either.'
'Let us not argue, frejojan. There isn't time.'
She inspected the cut, then dipped her hand into the side of the sphere, brought out a handful of water, and washed away the sticky drying blood. Her touch was warm and soothing, as expert as Quartz's.
'Why did you bring me here?'
'So we could talk unobserved.'
'What about?'
'I want to ask you something first. Why did you think I was a woman?'
Wess frowned and gazed into the depths of the floor. Her boot dimpled the surface, like the foot of a water-strider.
'Because you are a woman,' she said. 'Why you pretend you are not, I don't know.'
'That is not the question,' Lythande said. 'The question is why you called me
"sister" the moment you saw me. No one, sorcerer. or otherwise, has ever glanced at me once and known me for what I am. You could place me, and yourself, in great danger. How did you know?'
'I just knew,' Wess said. 'It was obvious. I didn't look at you and wonder if you were a man or a woman. I saw you, and I thought, how beautiful, how elegant she is. She looks wise. She looks like she could help us. So I called to you.'
'And
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