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see what we can and only listen for the look of it. He lifted his head.
 That s all that s on here. He looked a last time at the paper, rolled it
into a tight tube and passed it across the table.
Coperic was a small wiry man, shadow like smears of ink in the deep lines from
his nose to the corners of a thin but shapely mouth, in the rayed lines about
eyes narrowed to creases against the wisps of greasy smoke rising from the
lamp. There was a tired cleverness in his face, a restrained vitality in his
slight body.  How soon before you can leave?
Vann slid the tube back and forth between his thumb and forefinger.  Soon as
the storm passes. He was a lanky long man with gray-streaked brown hair and
beard twisted into elaborate plaits, thin lips pressed into near invisibility
when he wasn t speaking.  This norit fights wide of storms and the blow out to
sea, he s a monster, too much for trash to handle. Norit likes him; a nice
following wind and a flat sea and that s what he give me when it s him I m
taking south. He moved his long legs, eased them out past Coperic s feet. His
mouth stretched into a tight smile.  He s got a queasy belly.
 Your usual ferrying job, or is this one special? Coperic leaned farther over
the table, his smallish hands pressed flat on the boards, his eyes narrowed to
slits.
The Intii stroked his beard.  They don t talk to me. The oiled plaits slid
silently under his gnarled hand.  Norit s been buzzing back and forth between
here and up there, he nodded his head toward the walled city on the cliffs
high above the wharves where his boat was moored,  grind-ing his teeth because
the storm kept hanging on. I d say this one was important. To him, anyway.
What s happen-ing with the army?
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 Gates been closed on us the past three days, traxim flying like they got
foot-rot, there s a smell of something about to happen round the Plaz and the
Temple. I d say they re getting set to move. I wouldn t wager a copper uncset
against your norit taking word to Sankoy to get their men moved to the passes
so they ll be ready to join up with this bunch. You better walk careful, Vann.
Shove that, he flicked a finger at the paper tube,  down deep in the mossy
cask the norit won t want to drink from. If what we think s right, he ll be
twitchy as a lappet in a kanka flock.
The Intii shifted his feet again, plucked at his eyebrow, his face drawn, the
anger in him silent but all the more intense for that.  They think they got me
netted. He reached out to the paper tube, rolled it with delicate touches a
few inches one way, then the other.  Kappra Shaman living in my house. Norit
leaning on my son when he go out with the boats. Figure I got no way to move,
so they forget about me, don t even see me these days.
The fisher villages on the tappatas along the coast south of Oras had been
built by families determined to live their lives their own way, calling no man
master, sheltered from most attack by the mountains and the sea, sheltered
be-hind their village walls from attack by the Kapperim tribes who came up
from the Sankoy hills on stock and slave raids when the spring thaws opened
the mountain passes. The fisher-folk made for themselves most of what they
needed; anything else they traded for in Oras, the various families of each
village taking turns carrying fish to Oras to sell for the coins the whole
village shared. They worked hard, kept themselves to themselves, exchanged
daughters between the villages, managed to survive relatively un-changed for
several hundred years.
Now there were Kapperim inside the walls, a Kappra Shaman watching everyone.
The women and children and old folks were held at risk, guaranteeing the
tempers of the men and older boys who were sent out day after day to bring
back fish for the army. Norits rode the lead boats in each village fleet; a
captive merman who wore charmed metal neck and wrist rings swam ahead of the
boats locat-ing the schools so the fishers wouldn t come back scant. Day after
day they went out, and most days nothing was sent to the villages. One boat in
each fleet, one day in five, was permitted to take its catch to the women and
children so the families wouldn t starve. The fishers worked hard, not much
choice about that, but they were sullen, their tempers smoldering, especially
the younger men. The older men kept watch and stopped revolts before they
started, but the norits wouldn t have lasted a day in spite of their powers if
it weren t for the hostage families.
The Intii Vann was looser than the others. He was used by the norits to ferry
them up and down the coast; though a noris could pop across space by the
potency of his WORDS and gathered power, the norits were limited to more
ordinary means of travel. They had a choice between taking a boat or riding
the Highroad where they d have to face snow-blocked passes and attacks by
outcasts. The boats were faster and more comfortable and a lot safer. To
ensure their safety, the norits he ferried made the Intii handle his boat by
himself, helping him (and themselves) by controlling the wind and water as
much as they could.
The Intii had a tenuous association with Coperic going back a number of years,
doing a little smuggling for him, carrying the men and women of his web up and
down the coast and occasionally across Sutireh Sea. When the trou-ble began at
the Moongather and the Intii found himself chosen as ferryman by the norits,
Coperic and he wasted little time working out their own methods for passing
messages south and handling other small items. At Sankoy, Vann gave these
messages to men or women he knew from times past, who relayed them on to the
Biserica, a slow route but the only sure one. The norits suspected nothing of
this; they didn t understand people at all well, they d had too much power too
long, they were too insulated from the accommodations ordinary folk had to
make to understand how they managed to slide around a lot of the pressures in
their lives. In their eyes, a powerless man could never be a danger to them.
Vann took up the roll.  If the army moves south, what do you do?
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Coperic sat back, his face sinking into shadow.  I move with them, me and my
companions. We hit them how and where we can, we stay alive long as we can.
Vann scratched at his beard.  I would come with you, my old friend, but I ve
got a wife and sons and a stinking Kappra Shaman with a knife at their
throats.
 You better figure a way to change that. If the battle goes bad for Floarin,
well, you re dead, your folk are dead.
 I know. Vann reached over, pinched out the wick. In the thick rich-smelling
darkness, he said.  Take care going back. Norits see in the dark.
III. The Spiral Dance Moving Toward The Meeting
Kingfisher
The light bounded along before them through the winding wormhole in the
mountain, leading them once more to the Mirror. The way to the mirror-chamber
changed each time they went there as if the room they slept in were a bubble
drifting through the stone. Or perhaps it was the mirror chamber that moved
about. Or did everything here move, bubbles blown before the Changer s whims?
How-ever many times Serroi followed their will o the wisp guide to meals, to
meet Coyote in one of his many guises, to walk beside the oval lake in the [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]