The Golden Sword Read Online Free PDF

what I saw no better. The picture I had for him was that of the kepher, that tree dweller from the swamps of Galesh, with its warted skin and suckered, webbed feet, that waits invisible upon the bark for unsuspecting wirragaets. I saw its long, sticky tongue shoot out, waving. I could only wonder at the vision’s meaning.
    The two, knelt together, fitting pieces of wood like demented children with a puzzle. As I watched, the three-level board took shape under the light from the middle stanchion. It was the yris-tera, part game and part oracle, that is played by forereaders and Day-Keepers for its auguries, by Slayers and advisers for its strategies, by children for the fun of the contest.
    When they had it built, they settled around it with the leather shaker, in which were the sixty game pieces of carved bone, and began to play. I was forgotten, ignored, as the first throw was cast.
    Upon the first level of the board fell the spear and shield, and the dayglass. Through the shots in the first level tumbled two threx and the woman and man symbols, to land upon the second, and the fire and spear, and the Well, to land upon the third.
    Chayin spat, disgusted. He still wore the Shaper’s cloak, thrown back over his shoulders. Upon his arms I could see his tattoos, rippling as if with their own life as he shook the leather cylinder, to throw again. Upon his right arm was the slitsa, curled around the undulating Parset blade. On his left the uritheria, symbol of his rank covered his entire bicep, winding around it, its tail trailing down his forearm. Its fanged mouth was open, its forked tongue seemed to dart and writhe in the uncertain light, its leathery wings about to snap into flight.
    A jiask entered, bearing two full bladders, one larger than the other. He passed me without notice, and stood before the cahndor and the Day-Keeper, bent over the board. Chayin nodded absently to him. The jiask laid the two bladders by Chayin’s side. He looked at the board, and his brows knit together.
    “Is it for Frullo jer?” asked the jiask.
    “For what else could it be?” The cahndor’s tone was sour. The jiask squatted down to watch. Hael leaned forward as Chayin threw again. The oil lamp picked out the Day-Keepers’ signs in blues and reds upon his shoulders; the compass, the dayglass which contains the world, the eight-pointed star in circle. Within that star I saw glyphs I did not recognize. All except for one. That one I had seen upon Estrazi’s ring, and upon the platform beneath the Falls of Santha. The glyph means “messenger” in Mi‘ysten. I wondered if it were by chance that he wore it.
    I was not pleased by my reading. Doubtless, I thought, it was the drug they had given me, blocking my talent. I, who wore the deep-readers’ chain, had gotten little help from my strongest skill.
    The second throw gave Chayin another woman upon the top level; an ebvrasea, winged fury, opposite one threx, and a sword upon the other, on the middle; and two men and one woman upon the bottom. The placement of these was most unusual, one woman and man beside the Well, and the other obstructing them with the fire and spear. These, certainly, were no random falls. Sometimes one can get much from the boards, sometimes little. It was my guess that this game might show the cahndor and the Day-Keeper more than they wanted to see. It was a board of crisis and polarization, of struggle and death. It had fallen so upon only the second throw.
    Hael pointed to the top level.
    “On the board of catalysts, the spear and shield, upon the red, are what is needed. The dayglass, upon the black, represents the will that controls. Thus we have what is preordained by the demands of time. Into this is drawn the woman, upon the gold, the place of the prime mover, through which the dayglass works. What think you, Chayin?”
    “Besha,” cahndor said. The jiask shifted his position. His brow was furrowed.
    “Perhaps,” said Hael. “But I think not. Upon the