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children. They always knew too much, and as they got older they knew even more. That was why it was
never accounted a crime, in the old days, to hunt them down and burn them. Do you understand what I'm
telling you, Fitz?
I shook my head, and when he frowned at my silence, I forced myself to add, But I'm trying. What is the
old Wit?
Burrich looked incredulous, then suspicious. Boy! he threatened me, but I only looked at him. After a
moment he conceded my ignorance.
The old Wit, he began slowly. His face darkened, and he looked down at his hands as if remembering
an old sin. It's the power of the beast blood, just as the Skill comes from the line of kings. It starts out
like a blessing, giving you the tongues of the animals. But then it seizes you and draws you down, makes
you a beast like the rest of them. Until finally there's not a shred of humanity in you, and you run and give
tongue and taste blood, as if the pack were all you had ever known. Until no man could look on you and
think you had ever been a man. His voice had gotten lower and lower as he spoke, and he had not
looked at me, but had turned to the fire and stared into the failing flames there. There's some as say a
man takes on the shape of a beast then, but he kills with a man's passion rather than a beast's simple
hunger. Kills for the killing ...
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Is that what you want, Fitz? To take the blood of kings that's in you, and drown it in the blood of the
wild hunt?
To be as a beast among beasts, simply for the sake of the knowledge it brings you? Worse yet, think on
what comes before. Will the scent of fresh blood touch off your temper, will the sight of prey shut down
your thoughts? His voice grew softer still, and I heard the sickness he felt as he asked me, Will you wake
fevered and asweat because somewhere a bitch is in season and your companion scents it? Will that be
the knowledge you take to your lady's bed?
I sat small beside him. I do not know, I said in a little voice.
He turned to face me, outraged. You don't know? he growled. I tell you where it will lead, and you say
you don't know?
My tongue was dry in my mouth and Nosy cowered at my feet. But I don't know, I protested. How can
I know what I'll do, until I've done it? How can I say?
Well, if you can't say, I can! he roared, and I sensed then in full how he had banked the fires of his
temper, and also how much he'd drunk that night. The pup goes and you stay. You stay here, in my care,
where I can keep an eye on you. If Chivalry will not have me with him, it's the least I can do for him. I'll
see that his son grows up a man, and not a wolf. I'll do it if it kills the both of us!
He lurched from the bench, to seize Nosy by the scruff of the neck. At least, such was his intention. But
the pup and I sprang clear of him. Together we rushed for the door, but the latch was fastened, and
before I could work it, Burrich was upon us. Nosy he shoved aside with his boot; me he seized by a
shoulder and propelled me away from the door. Come here, pup, he commanded, but Nosy fled to my
side. Burrich stood panting and glaring by the door, and I caught the growling undercurrent of his
thoughts, the fury that taunted him to smash us both and be done with it. Control overlaid it, but that brief
glimpse was enough to terrify me. And when he suddenly sprang at us, I repelled at him with all the force
of my fear.
He dropped as suddenly as a bird stoned in flight and sat for a moment on the floor. I stooped and
clutched Nosy to me. Burrich slowly shook his head as if shaking raindrops from his hair. He stood,
towering over us. It's in his blood, I heard him mutter to himself. From his damned mother's blood, and I
shouldn't be surprised. But the boy has to be taught. And then, as he looked me full in the eye, he warned
me, Fitz. Never do that to me again. Never. Now give me that pup.
He advanced on us again, and as I felt the lap of his hidden wrath, I could not contain myself. I repelled
at him again. But this time my defense was met by a wall that hurled it back at me, so that I stumbled and
sank down, almost fainting, my mind pressed down by blackness. Burrich stooped over me. I warned
you, he said softly, and his voice was like the growling of a wolf. Then, for the last time, I felt his fingers
grip Nosy's scruff. He lifted the pup bodily and carried him, not roughly, to the door. The latch that had
eluded me he worked swiftly, and in moments I heard the heavy tromp of his boots down the stair.
In a moment I had recovered and was up, flinging myself against the door. But Burrich had locked it
somehow, for I scrabbled vainly at the catch. My sense of Nosy receded as he was carried farther and
farther from me, leaving in its place a desperate loneliness. I whimpered, then howled, clawing at the
door and seeking after my contact with him. There was a sudden flash of red pain, and Nosy was gone.
As his canine senses deserted me completely. I screamed and cried as any six-year-old might, and
hammered vainly at the thick wood planks.
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It seemed hours before Burrich returned. I heard his step and lifted my head from where I lay panting
and exhausted on the doorstep. He opened the door and then caught me deftly by the back of my shirt as
I tried to dart past him. He jerked me back into the room and then slammed the door and fastened it
again. I flung myself wordlessly against it, and a whimpering rose in my throat. Burrich sat down wearily.
Don't even think it, boy, he cautioned me, as if he could hear my wild plans for the next time he let me
out.
He's gone. The pup's gone, and a damn shame, for he was good blood. His line was nearly as long as
yours. But I'd rather waste a hound than a man. When I did not move, he added, almost kindly, Let go of
longing after him. It hurts less, that way.
But I did not, and I could hear in his voice that he hadn't really expected me to. He sighed, and moved
slowly as he readied himself for bed. He didn't speak to me again, just extinguished the lamp and settled
himself on his bed. But he did not sleep, and it was still hours short of morning when he rose and lifted me
from the floor and placed me in the warm place his body had left in the blankets. He went out again and
did not return for some hours.
As for me, I was heartsick and feverish for days. Burrich, I believe, let it be known that I had some
childish ailment, and so I was left in peace. It was days before I was allowed out again, and then it was
not on my own. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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