The Golden Sword Read Online Free PDF Page A

the words. Nothing can change that.”
    “He does not know who I am. My name meant nothing to him,” I protested. I would have much preferred to belong to this Day-Keeper, if I had to belong to any of them.
    “Do not be a fool. There are none upon Silistra who do not know that name. The halls of Arlet ran with blood upon your account. He knew, before you told him. He made no sign, because he was not surprised. The haste with which he took your commitment proves it.” His voice was wry. The threx’s footfalls were muddled upon lush grass. Chayin was already dismounted, stripping the carved and tooled Parset saddle from the steaming dapple’s back. He slipped the headstall, with its bloody double bits, from the threx’s mouth, hobbled its front feet, and turned away to seat himself beneath a tyla palm. I thought it a wonder the animal was sound, if such negligence was the cahndor’s practice. The threx was badly overheated, steaming.
    Hael lowered me to the ground, to the luxuriant grass that grew in the jer. Chayin, from where he sat under the tyla, watched me. The dark was fast receding, the sky greening in the east, the stars fading away. The night noises were gone, the moon absent from above our heads. I heard the jingle, snort, and blow that was the rest of the Nemarsi jiasks straggling into the jer. Hael rubbed his threx down and turned him loose. He dragged his carved saddle with its webcloth rolls and voluminous saddlepacks to Chayin. Color and tone came almost perceptibly to the jer, silhouette became substance, as the sun’s first rays burst over the Sabembes.
    When there were nine more threx loose in the jer, the jiasks went about raising apprei. From their saddles they took the web-cloth rolls, from their bags arm-length tubes of green stra metal. These tubes they fit together into long stachions and set them deep into the earth. Over the pyramid frameworks they fastened the web-cloth panels. By the time the sun showed its full disk, three appreis, each resplendent with those psychotropic designs favored by the Parsets, Stood beneath the tyla palms.
    Into the largest of the three went Chayin, his saddle thrown over his shoulder, the tooled leather packs almost dragging to the ground. I still stood where Hael had left me, my hands bound behind me, my feet upon the moist, cushiony grass.
    I heard a rustle, a crackling, and Hael slid down a tyla’s trunk, a cluster of fruit stuck in his sword belt. Two of the jiasks were busy with a fire, another two with a haunch of meat. Gear was strewn everywhere. The jer rumbled with their mutterings as they unstoppered bladders and passed them back and forth.
    The Day-Keeper motioned me, and I followed him meekly into the largest apprei.
    The apprei was a clutter. A Parset keeps his treasures around him, wherever he may be. Chayin squatted in a corner, pulling still more from the bottomless saddlepacks. I saw a full set of threx shoes, and all that was needed to set them. I saw a small brazier, piles of clothing, boxes, and rolled mats. I saw wraps of meat, plump full bladders. Over the grass the cahndor had spread thick-piled mats; from the stanchion in the apprei’s middle he had hung his harness and sword belt, coils of braided leather, and a lit oil lamp.
    “Sit, little crell,” Hael said to me, and knelt down himself, to unpack his own gear.
    I sat upon my heels, conscious of my bonds, of the rope upon my belly. It was cool in the apprei.
    The mat under me was all red and gold, rich, warm. I let my eyes follow the dancing , patterns. I sank within them, searching.
    In Chayin I saw a beast in a blood rage, a dorkat wounded. I deep-read him, and what was there made me shiver. He was law unto himself, but he knew no law. Stealthy desert stalker, he craved the kill. Within him was a terrible anger. He cared only for his satisfaction. He was what a Slayer might have been, were there no Day-Keepers’ laws to restrain him.
    And Hael, the Day-Keeper, I read also. I liked