[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.”With that option closed to him, he turned back to his plan to go with Dancer to Oden’s Ford.He wondered how he could make it happen, when everyone around him seemed opposed to it.He tried going around Willo, approaching several of the silversmiths at the Marisa Pines Market, asking if they knew how to remove his cuffs, and if they’d make him an offer for the metal.They tried their saws and cutters and knives with no effect.When he told them it didn’t matter if the cuffs were damaged, they tried their irons, heating the metal, burning and blistering Han’s wrists in the process.He needn’t have worried about damage to the cuffs.The silversmiths got nowhere.They didn’t even scratch the surface of the metal, or damage the runes inscribed there.The answer was always the same.They were interested in the silver, intrigued with it, in fact, but had no idea how to get the bracelets off.Or how to work the silver if they did.The only other thing he could think of was to retrieve the amulet that still lay hidden in the stable yard and find a buyer for it.He saw no reason why he couldn’t turn the amulet into enough girlies to support Mam and Mari and attend Wien House too.No reason except Lucius, who’d told him to keep it out of the Bayars’ hands.But he wouldn’t need to take it back to the Bayars.He knew lots of dealers from his previous life as a thief.He could sell it in Southbridge Market.What were the chances that the Bayars would ever go to Southbridge? They never had before.He chose not to listen to the voice in his head that said that it wasn’t his to sell.That said, if he sold it in Fellsmarch it might still make its way back to the previous owners.Anyway, he’d had nothing but bad luck since he’d picked the amulet up off the ground on the slopes of Hanalea.Maybe this was a chance to change his luck and improve his fortune.The idea grew in his mind, until he became convinced that he had no choice.He decided to leave for the city in the late afternoon, reasoning that he could arrive there under cover of darkness when the guard changed.He’d go straight to Ragmarket and fetch the amulet.He could be back in Southbridge when the markets opened and be on his way up Hanalea while the bluejackets were still wiping sleep from their eyes.He slid his money pouch under his shirt, next to his skin.He’d made a little money working for Willo and running errands in camp for anyone who’d pay.Not near enough.He wrapped some smoked trout and flat bread in a napkin and tucked it into his carry bag.Finally he pulled a cap over his pale hair, hoping it would make him stand out less and not more, and it was cool in the mountains.In the Vale the weather would be warm, but when people described him, they always said, “The fair-headed one.”There was little traffic on the trail into Fellsmarch at that time of day, mostly hunters and traders on their way home.He made a wide circle around Lucius’s place, not wanting to run into the old man.Han hadn’t seen Lucius since the day he’d found him mourning Han’s tragic death.Han wondered if Lucius had got another boy to take his place.That stung a little.He passed through the city gate just at dusk with a crowd of acolytes from the local temple, all about his age.They’d been gathering blackberries on the slopes of Hanalea.He kept to the back ways until he reached South Bridge.It seemed that things had cooled off after all.Two sleepy bluejackets manned each end of the bridge, and no one seemed to be looking for Han Alister.Lucius had told him word was out that he was dead.Han decided that being dead made travel through the city much easier.Once across the bridge, Han wove through the familiar web of Ragmarket, heading for home.It was still not fully dark, though the sun had descended behind Westgate, and a few stars pricked the pale sky.This far north, the days were long in midsummer.Those enterprises that required the cover of darkness were compressed into a few intense hours.Han’s heart beat faster.He loved summer nights in the city, when music poured from the open doors of taverns and vendors grilled sausages and fish on the sidewalks, and the drunks in the alleys never froze to death.Fancy girls joked with the bluejackets, and people played hard, intoxicated by the notion that anything could happen.And probably would.The streets were more dangerous, yet in some ways more forgiving in the summertime.The last time he’d been home, Ragmarket and Southbridge had been unnaturally quiet, spooked by the series of Southie murders.Now it was more like he remembered it, when he was running with the Raggers.As he neared home, he began seeing yellow flags nailed onto doors or hanging out of windows, signifying the presence of remittent fever.In the summertime, the yellow flags sprouted in certain neighborhoods, like a crop of garish death flowers or the bright yellow brain fungus that sometimes grew on dead trees.That was the dark side of summer.Some said the fever was due to bad air.Willo said it was caused by bad water.Whatever it was, it was confined to the Vale.It was never a problem in the upland camps.When he reached the stable yard, he looked up to the second floor of the stable and saw a yellow rag stuffed between sash and sill.Han slammed his way into the stable and took the stairs two at a time.When he flung open the door, he was met by the stink of every kind of sick.Mari lay on her pallet next to the hearth.Although the air in the room was stifling, the fire was lit and Mari was piled high with blankets, shivering uncontrollably.Mam sat on the floor next to her, leaning against the wall.She blinked up at Han, like she’d fallen asleep sitting there.“She was better this morning,” Mam said, “but the fever’s coming back.” She said this matter-of-factly, as if she was too weary to react to his sudden appearance after a month away.Her hair had crept out of its plait, half of it hanging around her face.Her bodice was soiled and stained, hanging loose on her body as though she were using herself up.Han crossed the room and knelt next to Mari’s bed.He laid his hand on her forehead.She was burning up.“How long has she been sick?”Mam rubbed her forehead.“This is the tenth day.”The tenth day.She should be recovering by now.If she was going to.“Is she eating and drinking?” Willo said a high fever dried people out, so you had to keep getting them to drink.Plus, the fever gave you the runs.Mam shook her head.“She don’t want to take anything when the fever is high [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.”With that option closed to him, he turned back to his plan to go with Dancer to Oden’s Ford.He wondered how he could make it happen, when everyone around him seemed opposed to it.He tried going around Willo, approaching several of the silversmiths at the Marisa Pines Market, asking if they knew how to remove his cuffs, and if they’d make him an offer for the metal.They tried their saws and cutters and knives with no effect.When he told them it didn’t matter if the cuffs were damaged, they tried their irons, heating the metal, burning and blistering Han’s wrists in the process.He needn’t have worried about damage to the cuffs.The silversmiths got nowhere.They didn’t even scratch the surface of the metal, or damage the runes inscribed there.The answer was always the same.They were interested in the silver, intrigued with it, in fact, but had no idea how to get the bracelets off.Or how to work the silver if they did.The only other thing he could think of was to retrieve the amulet that still lay hidden in the stable yard and find a buyer for it.He saw no reason why he couldn’t turn the amulet into enough girlies to support Mam and Mari and attend Wien House too.No reason except Lucius, who’d told him to keep it out of the Bayars’ hands.But he wouldn’t need to take it back to the Bayars.He knew lots of dealers from his previous life as a thief.He could sell it in Southbridge Market.What were the chances that the Bayars would ever go to Southbridge? They never had before.He chose not to listen to the voice in his head that said that it wasn’t his to sell.That said, if he sold it in Fellsmarch it might still make its way back to the previous owners.Anyway, he’d had nothing but bad luck since he’d picked the amulet up off the ground on the slopes of Hanalea.Maybe this was a chance to change his luck and improve his fortune.The idea grew in his mind, until he became convinced that he had no choice.He decided to leave for the city in the late afternoon, reasoning that he could arrive there under cover of darkness when the guard changed.He’d go straight to Ragmarket and fetch the amulet.He could be back in Southbridge when the markets opened and be on his way up Hanalea while the bluejackets were still wiping sleep from their eyes.He slid his money pouch under his shirt, next to his skin.He’d made a little money working for Willo and running errands in camp for anyone who’d pay.Not near enough.He wrapped some smoked trout and flat bread in a napkin and tucked it into his carry bag.Finally he pulled a cap over his pale hair, hoping it would make him stand out less and not more, and it was cool in the mountains.In the Vale the weather would be warm, but when people described him, they always said, “The fair-headed one.”There was little traffic on the trail into Fellsmarch at that time of day, mostly hunters and traders on their way home.He made a wide circle around Lucius’s place, not wanting to run into the old man.Han hadn’t seen Lucius since the day he’d found him mourning Han’s tragic death.Han wondered if Lucius had got another boy to take his place.That stung a little.He passed through the city gate just at dusk with a crowd of acolytes from the local temple, all about his age.They’d been gathering blackberries on the slopes of Hanalea.He kept to the back ways until he reached South Bridge.It seemed that things had cooled off after all.Two sleepy bluejackets manned each end of the bridge, and no one seemed to be looking for Han Alister.Lucius had told him word was out that he was dead.Han decided that being dead made travel through the city much easier.Once across the bridge, Han wove through the familiar web of Ragmarket, heading for home.It was still not fully dark, though the sun had descended behind Westgate, and a few stars pricked the pale sky.This far north, the days were long in midsummer.Those enterprises that required the cover of darkness were compressed into a few intense hours.Han’s heart beat faster.He loved summer nights in the city, when music poured from the open doors of taverns and vendors grilled sausages and fish on the sidewalks, and the drunks in the alleys never froze to death.Fancy girls joked with the bluejackets, and people played hard, intoxicated by the notion that anything could happen.And probably would.The streets were more dangerous, yet in some ways more forgiving in the summertime.The last time he’d been home, Ragmarket and Southbridge had been unnaturally quiet, spooked by the series of Southie murders.Now it was more like he remembered it, when he was running with the Raggers.As he neared home, he began seeing yellow flags nailed onto doors or hanging out of windows, signifying the presence of remittent fever.In the summertime, the yellow flags sprouted in certain neighborhoods, like a crop of garish death flowers or the bright yellow brain fungus that sometimes grew on dead trees.That was the dark side of summer.Some said the fever was due to bad air.Willo said it was caused by bad water.Whatever it was, it was confined to the Vale.It was never a problem in the upland camps.When he reached the stable yard, he looked up to the second floor of the stable and saw a yellow rag stuffed between sash and sill.Han slammed his way into the stable and took the stairs two at a time.When he flung open the door, he was met by the stink of every kind of sick.Mari lay on her pallet next to the hearth.Although the air in the room was stifling, the fire was lit and Mari was piled high with blankets, shivering uncontrollably.Mam sat on the floor next to her, leaning against the wall.She blinked up at Han, like she’d fallen asleep sitting there.“She was better this morning,” Mam said, “but the fever’s coming back.” She said this matter-of-factly, as if she was too weary to react to his sudden appearance after a month away.Her hair had crept out of its plait, half of it hanging around her face.Her bodice was soiled and stained, hanging loose on her body as though she were using herself up.Han crossed the room and knelt next to Mari’s bed.He laid his hand on her forehead.She was burning up.“How long has she been sick?”Mam rubbed her forehead.“This is the tenth day.”The tenth day.She should be recovering by now.If she was going to.“Is she eating and drinking?” Willo said a high fever dried people out, so you had to keep getting them to drink.Plus, the fever gave you the runs.Mam shook her head.“She don’t want to take anything when the fever is high [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]