Donaldson, Stephen - Thomas Covenant 05 - The One Tree by Donaldson Stephen

Author:Donaldson, Stephen [Donaldson, Stephen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy
ISBN: 9780345418470
Publisher: Random House Inc
Published: 1997-06-23T07:00:00+00:00

However, they were adept at concealment. Like the Caitiffin, they betrayed no disquiet which would have been apparent to any senses but hers. But her percipience told her plainly that the Sandhold was a place ruled by fear.

One of the men gave her a smile as superficially frank as a leer. Servants moved noiselessly through the rooms, offering goblets of wine and other courtesies. The First could hardly draw herself away from a particular glaive which hung at an angle in its mounts as if it were leaning toward her. With an inward shiver, Linden realized that the Tier of Riches had been designed for more than the gaddhi’s gratification. It also acted as bait. Its very luxuriance was dangerous to people who had reason to be wary.

Then a tremor passed through the air, pulling her to a halt. A moment passed before she understood that no one else had felt it. It was not a sound, but rather a presence that altered the ambience of the Tier in a way only she was able to perceive. And it was moving toward the company. As it drew closer, the susurrus of voices rustling from chamber to chamber fell still.

Before she could warn her companions, a man entered the gallery. She knew who he was before Rire Grist’s bow and

salutation had announced him as the gaddhi’s Kemper. The power which poured from him was as tangible as a pronouncement. He could not have been anyone other than a thaumaturge.

The aura he radiated was one of hunger.

He was a tall man, stood head and shoulders above her; but his frame was so lean that he appeared emaciated. His skin had the translucence of great age, exposing the blue mapwork of his veins. Yet his features were not ancient, and he moved as if his limbs were confident of their vitality. In spite of his reputed longevity, he might have been no more than seventy years of age. A slight rheum clouded his eyes, obscuring their color but not the impact of their gaze.

In a flash of intuition, Linden perceived that the hunger shining from him was a hunger for time-that his desire for life, and more life, surpassed the satiation of centuries.

He was dressed in a gold-colored robe which swept the floor as he approached.

Suspended by a yellow ribbon, a golden circle like an ocular hung from his neck; but it held no lens.

A leather strap enclosed each shoulder as if he were carrying a rucksack. Linden did not see until he turned to answer the Caitiffin’s greeting that the burden he bore was an infant swaddled in yellow samite.

After a brief word with Rire Grist, the Kemper stepped toward the company.

“I am pleased to greet you.” His voice revealed a faint quaver of age; but his tone was confident and familiar. “Permit me to say that such guests are rare in Bhrathairealm-thus doubly welcome. Therefore have I desired to make your acquaintance ere you are summoned before the Auspice to receive the gaddhi’s benison.

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