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into peaceful rest, breathing in slow, steady heaves like an armored bellows.
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 That ought to do it. Viz couldn t sweat but looked like he wanted to.
Buncan slumped, his fingers numb and sore.  He s still asleep.
 Aftermare, the bird informed him.  Might last an hour, maybe a couple. No more. He let out an
elated chirp.  Guaranteed. You did good.
 Thanks. I think. Thoroughly worn out, Buncan felt like a nap himself, but decided to hold off.
Snaugenhutt s nightmares were still too vivid in his own memory.
Also, some of them might still be hanging around with nowhere else to go, and after what he d seen of
them so far he didn t want them popping up in his own dreams.
CHAPTER 17
When the rhino awoke that evening, he was fully rejuvenated and ready to roll. To his surprise, none of
his companions exhibited comparable enthusiasm. So he was compelled to wait while they spent the night
in the shelter of the eroded boulders, wondering how they could be so exhausted when he felt relaxed
and thoroughly refreshed.
Snaugenhutt s nightmares had departed for more congenial dreams, and everyone slept comfortably.
After a quick breakfast, they remounted their bemused but now fully recovered four-legged ferry and
pressed on deeper into the Tamas.
The landscape grew ever more fantastic, presenting towers and turrets of stone that had been carved by
angry wind and impatient water into a surfeit of fanciful shapes. Fragile fingers of layered stone reached
hundreds of feet into the sky, while rivers of broken rock flowed in frozen riot down the slopes of
brooding, flat-topped mesas. The blaze of mineralized color ranged from pure white to a deep maroon
that reminded Buncan of fine wines he d seen for sale in the shops of Lynchbany. Black basalt and
gleaming obsidian striped the lighter stone like collapsed veins in the bodies of fallen giants.
They passed beneath a wall of solid peridot, the intense green volcanic gemstone afire with inanimate life,
and had to avert their eyes from the glare.
Squill stared until the tears ran down his cheeks, and not only from the light.  Wot a site! A determined
bloke could winkle out jewels  ere for a century without dentin the supply. Ain t that right, Gragelouth?
The merchant nodded.  It is certainly a remarkable deposit.
 Remarkable?  Ell, it s bleedin unique.
 Mining s hard work, Squill. Buncan shifted his backside against the unyielding iron.  You re allergic to
hard work, remember?
The otter pursed his lips.  Oi, that s right. For a minute there I d forgotten. He went silent as
Snaugenhutt picked a route between a pair of brittle sandstone spires.
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They stopped for the night by the side of an arroyo. A small stream sang through its twists and turns,
running clear and cold over slick sandstone slabs. There were several deep pools, one of which provided
the otters with an opportunity for a noisy swim.
All the talk in Pbukelpo had been of the desolate, unforgiving Tamas and its endless stretches of
windswept rock and gravel. So far the actuality had been both greener and wetter. They d found water
not once but several times, and their casks were as full as when they d started out.
Maybe, he dared to muse, after all the trouble they d had in places where they d expected none, they
might now have an easy time of it in the one region where difficulties were anticipated.
While the Tamas had proven itself unexpectedly benign, it was still far from an inviting place. Not only
hadn t they met a soul since leaving Poukelpo, there was no indication that anyone else had passed this
way at any time in the recent past. There were no tracks of riding animals, no casually cast-off detritus of
civilization, not even the chilled embers of an old campfire. They were truly alone.
The arroyo gave way to a spectacular, sheer-walled canyon that wound north. Gragelouth was good at
analyzing the topography ahead, and they had the benefit of Viz s wings. Each time the merchant decreed
a change of direction, the tickbird would soar ahead to confirm or deny the wisdom of his decision.
Invariably, the sloth chose correctly.
Buncan marveled openly at this talent.  Years of traveling by oneself sharpens one s sense of direction,
cub.
 It must, because I d get us good and lost in these chasms and gorges. He scrutinized the sandstone
ramparts.  How much more of this do you think there is?
 That I cannot tell you. The sloth scanned the high rim of the canyon they were traversing.
 So far it s been a lot easier than I expected.
 Yes. The dour-visaged merchant almost, but not quite, grinned.  Something must be wrong.
 Nothin s wrong, mate. Squill lay flat in his seat, his incredibly limber body curled so that his head
rested on his hips.  Our luck s changed, that s all.  Bout bloody time, too.
The canyon continued to grow both deeper and wider, until it seemed as if any passing clouds must
surely stumble over its lofty rim. Here and there isolated pinnacles thrust their peaks into the sky. Their
appearance was deceptively frail. Though it looked as if the first random gust of wind would topple them,
still they stood, silent and immutable sentinels, the only witnesses to the presence of the diminutive
creatures on the canyon floor far below.
Armor clinking, Snaugenhutt splashed through a shallow tributary of the cheerful stream they had
camped beside the night before. On the far side he paused and knelt to slake his thirst. Sensing the
chance for a quick dip, the otters dismounted and disrobed in one smooth, flowing motion. Buncan
settled himself in a comfortable hollow in the rocks, while Viz hunted for water bugs along the shore.
With great dignity, Gragelouth slid from his seat and set about washing his face and hands.
Buncan lay back and contemplated the sky. Not such a bad journey, not now. He glanced lazily to his
left, then to his right. And blinked.
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Something was coming down the canyon toward them. It was big, bigger than Snaugenhutt. Much
bigger.
In point of fact, it reached a third of the way up the canyon wall.
He scrambled to his feet. The object most nearly resembled an inverted cone, its top being much
broader than the base on which it scooted along the ground. As it drew nearer, the faint whisper which
had first caught his attention had risen to a dull roar. The otters had scrambled clear of the pool and were
throwing themselves into their clothing. Viz had rushed to his armored perch atop Snaugenhutt s
forehead, while Gragelouth edged close to the rhino s protective bulk.
The merchant was anxiously examining the base of the canyon walls.  Shelter. We have to find shelter.
 Don t worry. I ve seen bigger whirlwinds in the Chacmadura country, Viz told him.  Everybody
hunker down close to Snaugenhutt. I don t think it s strong enough to move him. He glanced to left and
right.  I don t see any caves, merchant. We might as well stand our ground. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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