Moonsinger's Quest by Andre Norton

Author:Andre Norton [Norton, Andre]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Space Opera, Adventure, Fiction
Publisher: Baen
Published: 2011-11-01T04:00:00+00:00

2

The barrier winked out and there stood Maelen and Krip. But where was the other? Not hidden behind the two, for Farree would have still seen the edge or tips of wings. He knew—

Where was she!

“For whom do you search, little brother?” asked Krip. There was a shade of concern in his voice as he studied Farree.

“The one—the gracious one—she who flies in beauty! Where is she, my brother, my sister! Have you hidden her?” He suddenly recalled the warning Zoror had given him only moments earlier. “On the ship? Surely she is not of Gragal! For they have not seen our like before—he”—Farree signaled with a finger—“has told me so.”

He wanted to shout—to sing—to fly triumphantly up and up—to meet her above in the clouds where their own road ran. Yet there were no smiles on the faces of his friends. Rather Maelen’s thought reached into him, dampening the excitement that filled him.

“There is no one with us—nor at the ship, little brother. Why do you think—?”

Farree reached her, his hands outstretched, then a chill extinguished all the sudden joy he had known for the first time in his hard and barren life. The scent—no, he could not mistake that! And it came from—His hand shot out and he grabbed from Maelen’s hold something wrapped in a sheet of luxwool such as was used to protect some fragile ware after purchase. The sheet flipped apart, letting him see something which shimmered in a melting burst of color: rose, pearl-white, and the warm grey of first twilight. Farree continued to stare as the fragrance arose about him in a cloud of scent filling every breath he drew. She—she—

He uttered a harsh cry and dropped upon the nearest pile of dead tapes that wondrous thing—wondrous, yes. But the feel of raw cruelty was a part of it: such torment as to sweep away all he had first felt, giving instead a sense of harsh pain. Then out of that pain grew an anger, fierce, filling him to the point where he threw out an arm and swept to the floor two piles of tapes, his lips drawn back so tightly against his teeth that his face was now that of a snarling animal unable to give vent to anger save through claw and fang. His other hand flew to his belt and freed the short defense knife which was his legacy from their meeting with the Guild. Who could be made to pay for this—this hurt, sorrow—DEATH!

“Where—” The demand came as a slurred snarl. “Where was this?” He dared not touch that thing of many colors again; it racked him now even to look at it.

Maelen moved deliberately, coming up beside him. Farree’s whole body quivered as he longed to turn on her, large as she was, to shake from her the knowledge he must have. She picked up the scrap of beauty, shook it out so that he saw, having to watch in spite of his rage and horror, she held a length which might form a scarf.

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