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wrote. "The little fellow sat by Dad's bedside for three weeks, watching over
him until he peacefully slipped away. Now the gnome is in Mom's garden, under
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a palm tree and a hibiscus bush. He looks silly there, but Mom loves him very
much."
"So Otto's warming his old bones, too," said Becca. "Wonder how the others are
doing in Florida?"
"Keep watching for news of phony copterids after the next American eclipse,"
laughed Raquel.
Alizon, sitting at the table, dropped her fork with a clatter and ran to her
room.
She returned with a book, her hands shaking. "I knew that sounded familiar!
The Professor's beard muffled all his words."
"You know what they're doing?" asked Raquel.
Alizon flushed. "
Phoenicopterus ruber
. The greater flamingo. Heaven help the Americans. They've gone to liberate
the lawn flamingos of Miami."
The Newcomers
Poul Anderson
Evening slowly became warm blue dusk. Trees on the south side of the Morokini,
pine, river birch, alder, rose in delicate darkling tracery. They had been
left standing along the bank, a jut from the
woodlands to the west. It ended short of the house, giving an open view across
the river itself. Beyond, New Tholis was already a mass of night, roofs,
chimneys, watchtower silhouetted, windows aglow with candlelight. The water
still sheened beneath the sky, tossing flashes of light where its cascades
chuckled and gurgled across rocks, on its way east to the sea.
Lights appeared among the trees, soft, flickery, iridescent, like
mother-of-pearl come alive and aflight.
Some of their scores flew out from under the leaves. Two cavorted near enough
to the house for a man to see what it was that shone. Less than six inches
long, they were almost like humans in miniature, borne on wings almost like a
moth's but luminous and larger than themselves. Silver-pale hair flowed down
over nude ivory-pale bodies, male and female. They darted and tumbled about
one another and laughed for joy.
Suddenly the male streaked close to the veranda. "Hail, Arvel Tarabine!
Welcome, stranger!" Though his cry was no louder than a fledgling's peep,
high-pitched to the edge of audibility, it sang.
"Which are you?" asked Arvel curtly.
The ellil flitted to and fro. "Fiulo," he trilled. "That's Fiulo the Quick,
not Fiulo the Zephyr or
Honeysuckle-Fiulo. And yonder, behold Yuna, my love for tonight. Isn't she
beautiful? Isn't she delightful? Don't you envy me? May you be half as glad."
He sped back to her. She held out her arms to him. He clasped both her hands.
They kissed, let go, and danced off through the air toward the woods.
Arvel shook his grizzled head. "No longer can I tell them apart," he growled.
"More and more every year."
"An enchanting sight," said Olavir Cyrac. "Never erenow have I spied so many."
He had lately come across Ocean, a younger son of a noble house in Croy, eager
to experience the New Lands. From Port
Roncitar he had fared up the Morokini, taking hospitality where he found it,
repaying with news from the mother cities.
A few centuries-old lines murmured from his lips:
"Love is no lady, but a wench with wings, Fickle and fleet, the child of wind
and sky, Cool as a fall where tumbling water rings, Brazen as sunlight and,
like moonglow, shy "
Cappen Varra had also been a romantic wanderer.
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"I fear I can't help you there," said Arvel with a wry grin. "Lasses are in
short supply throughout the colonies."
"You offer me aplenty else, sir," replied the visitor.
He had arrived today, leaving his bearers camped outside the town while he
crossed the bridge to seek
Arvel Tarabine. He had heard what a hoard of tales the old man kept from an
adventurous career. Arvel received him well, asking pardon for the absence of
his lady wife. She was off at the Vionne plantation to join in the naming rite
for their newest-born grandchild. However, their cook set a good board. After
dining, the men had gone to the veranda for a brandy and a smoke.
An indentured servant put the refreshment tray on a small table between two
chairs. Another hung a lantern from the roof. Its light drowned the frail
radiance of the ellils. Wicker creaked as host and guest sat down.
"Fair is all of Dordonia that I have seen," Olavir went on, "yet naught thus
far compares with this. Well have you settlers wrought."
Arvel sipped from his goblet. "On the whole, we're content. It was wilderness
when I found it, which cost much toil and some grief in the taming."
Olavir stared. "
You found it, sir?"
"With a few comrades, whom Sir Falcovan chose to survey these parts. I picked
our Irroan guide. I'd been scouting for several years, you see; that was my [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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