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called the Her-ring Finn and promptly learned the vast difference
between a well-financed, 
superbly run passenger line and the bucket for whose engines he was suddenly
respon-sible. And not only the engines. He was called on to repair, rebuild or
construct from whatever came to hand everything the ship needed of a
propulsive nature. One of those projects was a lift sled for loading cargo in
places so remote they not only didn t have starports, they very often didn t
have wheels. He d rebuilt that thing so many times it was engraved into his
brain. And with a little prodding Danny Blue found he could re-trieve the
patterns. From his other progenitor he culled the memory of his lessons in
Reshaping, one of the earliest skills a Sorceror s apprentice had to master.
Hour on hour of practice, until he could shut his eyes and make the shape
without error perceptible to the closest scrutiny which he got
because
Settsimaksimin was a good teacher whatever other failings he might have. There
was still the problem of power. He decided to worry about that after he knew
whether or not he could shape a sled. I need something to work on, he thought,
something solid enough to hold Brann and me, but not too heavy.
He got to his feet and wandere d through the house. The beds were too clumsy,
besides they were

mainly frame and rope with a straw paillasse for a mattress and billowing
quilts. He fingered a quilt, thinking about the nip in the air once the
sun went down, shook his head and wandered on. Everything that caught his
eye had too many problems with it until he reached the kitchen and
inspected the hard-used worktable backed into an alcove around the corner
from the cooking hearth. The tabletop was a tough ivory wood scarred with
thousands of shallow knifecuts, scrubbed and rubbed to a surface that felt
like satin; it was around twelve centimeters thick, two meters wide and three
long (from the posi-tioning of the cuts at least eight women gathered about
it when they were making meals or doing whatever else they did there). He
fetched a candle, dropped into a squat and peered at the underside.
Looks solid, he thought, have to test it. Hmm, those legs ... if they don t
add to much weight, they might be useful, some sort of windscreen ... mmm, the
front four anyway, whichever end I call front ... how m I
going to get this thing out where I can see what I m doing? Ah! talking about
seeing, I m going to have to set up a shield. If I can. He rose from the
squat, set the candle on the table and hitched a hip beside it, unwrapped and
began to finger his anger, his resentment of the constraints laid on him, his
frustration.
Daniel Akamarino went where he wanted when he wanted, Ahzurdan was
constrained only by his internal confusions, whatever he wanted or needed
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ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
he had the power to take if some fool tried to deny him. Danny Blue was too
young an entity to know much about who and what he was, but he resonated
sufficiently with his progenitors to feel a bitter anger at the Chains the god
had put on him. He felt the com-pulsion clamp down on his head when he tried
to give voice to that anger; he could not do, say or even think anything
that might (might!) work against the god. He knew, though he had
deliberately refrained from think-ing about it, that he suffered the
smother without trying to fight it because it offered or seemed to
offer an escape for him, a way he could thwart the god without having to fight
the compulsion. After the landfolk shut down their ambushes, he d ridden
relaxed under it ex-erting himself just enough to keep from being crushed,
smiling out of vague general satisfaction as the weight of the smother
increased and the possibility of action diminished. He carried that
satisfaction into dinner and beyond, but somewhere in the middle of the
discussion, he lost it. The Hand of the God came down on him harder than the
smother, find the answer, find it, no more dawdling, I ll have no more excuses
for failure, failure will not be permitted. Get through that line
how-ever you can, stomp the landfolk like ants if you have to, do whatever
you have to, but bring me BinYAHtii.
He wiped the sweat off his face, beat his fist on the tabletop until it
boomed, working off some of the rage that threatened to explode out of the
cramping grip of the god and blow the fragile psyche of Danny
Blue into dust. He might be young and wobbly on his feet, but he had a
ferocious will to survive. Not as
Ahzurdan, not as Daniel Akamarino. As Danny Blue the New.
 What is it? What s wrong?
He looked up. Brann was standing in the arch of the alcove looking worried. He
opened his mouth to explain but his tongue wouldn t move and his throat closed
on him. It was forbidden to think, do or say anything against the god. His
face went hot and congested as he wrestled with the ban; he felt as if he were
strangling on the words that wouldn t come out She came to him, put her hand
on his arm.  Never mind, she said,  I know.
He slammed fist against table one last time, sighed and stood up.  Help me
turn this thing over.
Brann pushed her hair off her face, blinked at him, then began laughing.
He looked up, startled.
 What?
 You wouldn t understand. Why turn the table over?
 Don t want to talk about it, you know why.
 Ah. Can the changers help?
 No. You take that end, I ll take this. Watch the legs. 
 Better move the candle first, unless you re planning to burn the house down.
If you want light, why not touch on the wall lamps? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]