The Bull and the Spear - 05 Read Online Free PDF Page A

resist it for any great time. I know that. It is better to accept your destiny with good grace—with humor, even."
     
    "Humor?" Corum swallowed the wine and wiped his lips. "That is not easy, Jhary."
     
    "No. But it is what makes the whole thing bearable."
     
    "And what do I risk if I answer the call and help this folk?"
     
    "Many things. Your life."
     
    "That is worth little. What else?"
     
    "Your soul, perhaps."
     
    "And what is that?"
     
    "You could discover the answer to that question if you embark upon this enterprise."
     
    Corum frowned. "My spirit is not my own, Jhary-a-Conel. You have told me that."
     
    "I did not. Your spirit is your own. Perhaps your actions are dictated by other forces, which is another question altogether . .
     
    Corum's frown changed as he smiled. "You sound like one of those priests of Arkyn who used to thrive in Lwym-an-Esh. I think the morality is somewhat doubtful. However, I was ever pragmatic. The Vadhagh race is a pragmatic race."
     
    Jhary raised his eyebrows, but said nothing. "Will you allow yourself to be called by the People of Cremm Croich?"
     
    "I will consider it."
     
    "Speak to them, at least."
     
    "I have tried. They do not hear."
     
    "Perhaps they do. Or perhaps you must be in a certain frame of mind to answer so that they can hear."
     
    ' 'Very well. I will try. And what if I do allow myself to be borne into this future time, Jhary? Will you be there?"
     
    "Possibly."
     
    "You cannot be more certain?"
     
    "I am no more master of my fate than are you, Champion Eternal."
     
    ' 'I would be grateful,'' said Corum,' 'if you will not use that title. I find it discomforting."
     
    Jhary laughed. "I cannot say that I blame you. Corum Jhaelen Irsei!"
     
    Corum rose and stretched his arms. The firelight touched his silver hand and made it gleam red, as if suddenly suffused with blood. He looked at the hand, turning it this way and that in the light as if he had never properly seen it before.
     
    ' 'Corum of the Silver Hand," he said musingly.' 'They think the hand of supernatural origin, I take it."
     
    "They have more experience of the supernatural than what you would call 'science'. Do not despise them for that. Where they live there are strange things happening. Natural laws are sometimes the creation of human ideas."
     
    "I have often contemplated that theory, but how does one find evidence for it, Jhary?"
     
    "Evidence, too, can be created. You are doubtless wise to encourage your own pragmatism. I believe everything, just as I believe nothing."
     
    Corum yawned and nodded. "It is the best attitude to have, I think. Well, I'll to my bed. Whatever comes of all this, know that your coming has improved my spirits considerably, Jhary. I'll speak with you again in the morning. First I must see how this night passes."
     
    Jhary stroked his cat under its chin. "You could benefit greatly from helping those who call to you." It was almost as if he had addressed the cat.
     
    Corum paused as he walked towards the door.' 'You have already hinted as much. Can you tell me in what way I would benefit?"
     
    ' 'I said 'could', Comm. I cannot say more. It would be foolish of me, and irresponsible. Perhaps it is already true that I have said too much. For now I puzzle you."
     
    "I'll dismiss the question from my mind—and bid you good night, old friend."
     
    "Good night, Corum, may your dreams be clear."
     
    Comm left the room and began to climb the ramp to his own bedchamber. This would be the first night in many months that he looked forward to sleep less with fear than with curiosity. He fell asleep almost immediately. And, almost immediately, the voices began. Instead of resisting them, he relaxed and listened.
     
    "Corum! Cremm Croich. Your people need you."
     
    For all its strange accent, the voice was quite clear. But Corum saw nothing of the chorus, nothing of the circle with linked hands which stood about a mound in an oak-grove.
     
    ' 'Lord of the Mound.