The Steel of Raithskar Read Online Free PDF Page A

things undone, words unsaid, potentials unexplored. You know you could have done more with your life, and you beg fate, or whatever god you believe in, to give you more time. You know in your heart that another entire lifetime would not be sufficient, yet you pray for just a few more years. You’ve been goofing off, you think; please, just an extra year or two to finish all those abandoned projects!
    But you know it can’t be done. Your time has come, and there’s no changing it.
    So then you look back and count what you
have
done. And, all in all, the balance is really in your favor.
    I looked back and realized that I had spent most of my adult life doing exactly what I wanted to do; exposing younger minds to the variety and the history of the world that I had discovered through languages. Some of my students had taken the time to tell me how much I had changed them. Their viewpoints had broadened, their lives had felt richer. They were aware of themselves as individual units in the composite of civilization. And those words of thanks were precious trophies.
    There had been personal relationships, friendships I remembered warmly. Coming back from the war to find “my girl” married to someone else had been a blessing in disguise. I was left free to study all over the world, and to make friends wherever I went. Many of them were women, and some were very special. We shared our lives for a time. It was always—at least for me—very satisfying, and it ended naturally and without bitterness. Yes, I could say to my credit that I had never made a friend, man or woman, who was not still my friend.
    So I had accepted, at last, that my life had been full, and well worth living. I had contributed what I could to the lives of other people; hopefully, through them and their memory of me, to the human race as a whole. An extended pleasure trip, to see the places I’d always traveled
between
—that was what I had wanted to do with what remained of my life.
    I had made that adjustment. Painfully. Finally. I had been prepared to die.
    And now I am alive in another world
, young
in another world, with another lifetime of experiences—new experiences—ahead of me.
    I stood motionless for some time, taking it in. Letting the silent raging joy wash away the musty taste of death. And giving thanks in an incoherent, inexpressible way. I knew that I might never know why or how this had happened. But,
Oh, God!
was I glad!
    A grumbling roar that I remembered well sounded from outside and brought me back into focus. I dressed again quickly; Keddan would be back soon with my breakfast. And then …
    I would have to go out and face that monster cat.

4
    The door curtain was swept aside, and the older of the two men came in, followed by Keddan, who was carrying a bowl. I glanced quickly from it to the recess where the stoppered pitcher stood. Yes, it was the same pattern. These people appreciated fine craftsmanship, if they did not, in fact, create these lovely things themselves.
    They stopped a few paces from where I stood and Keddan, still in the background, said in formal tones: “Rider, I present the Respected Elder Balgokh.”
    Help!
I thought.
What am I supposed to do? What are the customs?
No answer was forthcoming, so I followed my instincts; I bowed slightly and spoke, relieved to find that the words, at least, were there.
    “Greeting, Respected One.”
    “Greeting, Rider.” He did not return my bow, but he showed no offense. In fact he smiled, and waved Keddan forward. “We bring you breakfast. You seem to have recovered well. How do you feel?”
    “Remarkably well, all things considered,” I said. I accepted the good-smelling bowl of food from Keddan and smiled at him. “Thank you.”
    A quick smile lit Keddan’s face, then he left the room. I looked at the imposing figure of Balgokh in his floor-length white robe. He was older than I had first thought, but that did not affect the attitude of accustomed authority which