Trullion: Alastor 2262 Read Online Free PDF Page B

off toward Rabendary Island. “I suppose I am, for a fact, if Shiraa is truly dead. I’m older than Glay by an hour.”
    “And a good job too, if you want my opinion … Ha, hmm. You’ll see for yourself, no doubt.” Lord Gensifer drew in the sheet. “What about hussade? Are you for the new club? We’d certainly like a Hulden on the team.” “I don’t know anything about it, Lord Gensifer. I’m so bewildered by the turn of affairs I can’t give any sensible answer.”
    “In due course, in due course.” Lord Gensifer sheeted home the sail; the hull, surging forward, rose on its foils and skimmed across Fleharish Broad at great speed.
    “There’s sport for you,” said Young Harrad enviously. “He had that contraption brought out from Illucante by Inter-world. Think of the ozols it cost him!”
    “It looks dangerous,” said Glumes. “If it goes over, he and the merlings are out there alone.”
    “Lord Gensifer is a daredevil sort of chap, said Harrad. “Still, they say the craft is safe enough. It can’t sink, first of all, even if it did go over. He could always ride the hull until someone picked him up.”
    They continued across Fleharish Broad and out into Hfish Water, with the Prefecture Free Commons on their left an island of five hundred acres reserved for the use of casual wanderers, Trevanyi, Wrye, lovers “visiting friends.” The boat entered Ambaal Broad, and there ahead-the dear outline of Rabendary Island: home. Glinnes blinked at the moisture that came to his eyes. A sad homecoming, in truth. Ambal Island looked its loveliest. Looking toward the old manor, Glinnes thought to perceive a wisp of smoke rising from the chimneys. A startling theory came to him, which would account for Lord Gensifer’s sniff. Had Glay taken up residence in the manor? Lord Gensifer would consider such an action ridiculous and discreditable — a vulgarian trying to ape his betters.
    The boat pulled up to Rabendary dock; Glinnes unloaded his luggage, paid off Young Harrad. He stared toward the house. Had it always lurched and sagged? Had the weeds always grown so rank? There was a condition of comfortable shabbiness which the Trills considered endearing, but the old house had gone far past this state. As he mounted the steps to the verandah, they groaned and sagged under his weight.
    Flecks of color caught his eye, across the field near Rabendary Forest. Glinnes squinted and focused his gaze. Three tents: red, black, dull orange. Trevanyi tents. Glinnes shook his head in angry disparagement. He had not returned too soon. He called out, “Hallo the house! Who’s here but me?”
    In the doorway appeared the tall figure of his mother. She looked at him incredulously, then ran forward a few steps. “Glinnes! How strange to see you!” Glinnes hugged and kissed her, ignoring the overtones of the remark.
    “Yes I’m back, and it feels strange to me too. Where is Glay?”
    “He’s off with one of his comrades. But how well you look! You’ve grown into a very fine man!”
    “You haven’t changed by so much as a twitch; you’re still my beautiful mother.”
    “Oh, Glinnes, such flattery, I feel old as the hills and I look it too, I’m sure … I suppose you’ve heard the sad news?”
    “About Shira? Yes. It grieves me terribly. Doesn’t anyone know what happened?”
    “Nothing is known,” said Marucha rather primly. “But sit down, Glinnes; take off those fine boots and rest your feet. Would you care for apple wine?”
    “I would indeed, and a bite of whatever is handy. I’m ravenous.”
    Marucha served wine, bread, a cold mince of meat, fruit, and sea-jelly. She sat watching him eat. “It’s so very nice to see you. What are your plans?” Glinnes thought her voice almost imperceptibly cool. Still, Marucha had never been demonstrative. He answered, “I don’t have any plans whatever, I’ve only just heard about Shira from Young Harrad. He never took a wife then?” Marucha’s mouth pursed into a