The Sword of the Spirits Read Online Free PDF Page A

his lips moved: in a curse, I guessed. There would be plenty of cursing and jeering during the week to come. But Hans was one of them now, and they would do him no harm. Their own lives would be forfeit if they did.
    It would be hard on Hans; but he had chosen to be a warrior and a warrior must learn to bear hardships.
    Edmund came up to me at last. He said:
    â€œWell, you did it.” There was unwilling admiration in his voice. “But I still think you were unwise.”
    â€œI know that.” I grinned. “It is a cold morning. Come to the gymnasium and we will wrestle a little warmth into ourselves.”
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    Winter closed in early, with a blizzard that blew for four days and left snow drifting six feet deep in the High Street. There was a thaw after that, but a few weeks later the snow returned and this time stayed.
    Life was more confined but had its pleasures. For the boys there was skating on the river by the grazing meadows, the snowball fights that raged right across the city and did not always respect the dignity of older people, toboggan races on hard-packed frozen snow down the High Street. For the rest there were the entertainments of jugglers and minstrels, dancing and feasting and talk. Winchester was prosperous, her silos and granaries full, her farms stocked with fat cattle. We were well prepared for the hard months.
    But there was work as well as pleasure. Rudi andhis dwarfs labored in the Forge. With Greene I made a close inspection of swords and armor and rejected any that was worn or faulty. And I had the Captains keep their troops long hours at drill. I increased their rations of meat and ale to make up for this. There was some grumbling but they went at it willingly enough for the most part.
    My life was full, with the army and the court. At times, though, I got away on my own. I walked one day on the walls, with no one near me. The sky was largely clear for once, sharp blue with white clouds and that darker one that always rested on the northern horizon, where the Burning Lands smoked and smoldered. I thought of the journey we had made through the pass that ran across them, and I thought of King Cymru of the Wilsh, and his daughter Blodwen.
    I was not far from the North Gate. Snow had fallen in the night and only my footsteps had disturbed it here. I turned and saw a figure farther along the wall, coming my way. There were steps near and I thought of going down into the city to avoid him. Then I saw it was a black-cloaked Acolyte, and recognized Martin.
    I greeted him as he came up, and said:
    â€œWhat brings you here?”
    â€œThe same as you, sire, probably: an urge for solitude.”
    I took his arm. “No ‘sire,’ Martin. We are still friends, I hope.”
    He smiled, and his face lost the tense worried look that it often bore.
    â€œI hope so, too, Luke!”
    I had seen little of him since becoming Prince. As boys he and Edmund and I had been companions, but life had taken us along different paths. Edmund was a warrior and one of my Captains, so our ways lay much together. But Martin had become an Acolyte to the Seer. This would anyway have limited our companionship; my wariness of being associated with the Seer and the Seance House only made it more certain.
    Now as of old we walked and talked together, and I realized how much I had missed him.
    We looked over the snow-covered roofs of the city. In the distance I saw the Seance Hall, and the Ruins beyond it. The Ruins were the great mound of stone beneath which lay the small undergroundroom in which we three had met as boys, to talk and plan in secret. I pointed to it, and said:
    â€œDid you know the Christians seek our old playground?”
    â€œFor what?”
    â€œPeter gave them gold for a new church when he used their secret tunnel to get back into the city and surprise the Romsey men who had captured it. They have not built it yet. They ask for that land to put it on.