The Sword of Morning Star Read Online Free PDF Page A

boy’s blond head and touseled the hair. “Meanwhile, here is nothing but a child, and a wounded one at that. Sigrieth’s princelings grow old early; but such serious matters are not fit fare so soon after supper. Come, it is time now to feed Waddle.”
    “Waddle?” Helmut blinked, but he arose as Sandivar beckoned.
    “My good friend, pet, guard, and means of transportation; high time the two of you met, for much will you see of one another in days to come.” From one corner of the room he took a tremendous basin full of heads and guts of fish and carried it to the door. Helmut followed him outside.
    The tower was solidly based on a hillock not more than fifty meters across that rose directly from the rank, marshy water of the fens. Sundown was coming now, and the sky was oyster-colored, streaked with nacreous yellow. All around, so far as the eye could see, stretched the swamps and wetlands, devoid of life except for circling birds of prey and mewing gulls. Then Sandivar gave a strange call, formless and throaty. “There,” he said, after a moment, pointing. “See?”
    Helmut’s eyes followed his long arm. Approaching the island, a large dark blotch in the water made a long, v-shaped ripple. It came closer, gained the shallows; and all at once, fur wet-plastered and dripping, it rose to its feet and became a huge brown bear with a head as large as a firkin. Helmut gave a cry of astonishment and alarm, as the creature galloped toward them with a peculiar rolling gait, making odd grunting sounds deep in its chest.
    “Be not afraid,” said Sandivar. “Well he knows that you are under my protection. Hello, Waddle. Hast had pleasant romps in the mainland forests today?”
    The huge wet creature, with tongue lolling, fawned on him like a dog as Sandivar scratched him between the ears. But now and again, when the bear’s black lips curled with pleasure, Helmut caught a glimpse of great ivory daggers in that cavernous mouth; and the animal’s claws were long and sharp. He held back a little until Sandivar said, “Come; now you may do it.” Then, the old man pushed him forward, and that great muzzle sniffed at him questioningly, and, urged on by Sandivar, Helmut gingerly put out his one remaining hand and first barely touched, then massaged the coarse, wet fur. The bear grunted and licked his arm. Helmut laughed with pleasure.
    “A good sound, that,” Sandivar murmured. “The laughter of a boy; of Sigrieth’s son.” Then, strangely grave, he said, “Let us hope it will be heard often in years to come. Now, Waddle—” And he put down the basin of fish offal, and the bear plunged its muzzle therein greedily and with much vulgar noise.
    Leaving him thus, Sandivar took Helmut’s hand; together they circled the tower. It was fifty meters high, with various levels indicated by watching slits and loopholes for crossbow-men, and of such great age that, outside, it was covered with moss and slime and its battlements were crumbling. But Helmut was still fascinated by the idea of the bear.
    “Can sorcerers speak with animals?” he asked.
    “Aye, anyone can speak with animals; but whether either party understands the other is a different matter.” Sandivar chuckled, then was serious. “No,” he said. “Not speak, as you and I would. But certain art do I have so that with some creatures there is communication. Mind you, not all, only some. There are certain animals that are so other from man in the workings of their mind that no communication is possible—or, at least, I can establish none. Such killing animals as stoats and weasels, that live only for the taste of blood; or wolves, that devour the wounded and helpless of their own kind… Perhaps there are other men, sorcerers, whose minds more conform to those of such creatures and who can speak with them in the way that I speak with bears and the wild boars of the forest, the birds of the air, and the harmless small creatures of the holes and hedges. Perhaps,