Nancy Springer - Book of the Isle 05 by The Golden Swan

Author:The Golden Swan [Swan, The Golden]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2012-05-26T23:31:42+00:00

Chapter Five

The hills gradually lowered and lowered, falling away in front of us. We walked over them through the shortening days and the solstice and the lengthening days, eastward, always eastward, following the path of the swimming sun. We began to grow aware of a sort of shine far in front of us, and as we drew nearer to it we thought it was a great inland sea. But how could that be, with water becoming harder and harder to find? The garths were fewer and farther apart, their wells more grudging, the land arid. Only dry and twisted prickly things grew on it. No longer could we find the crabapples and wild pears that had sustained us somewhat.

We are going to have to live on lizards, said Dair. Thar is a desert ahead.

So it was, a sea of gleaming sand with waves and ripples that slowly moved under the touch of the wind. Rocks stood irregularly scattered, carved into anvil shapes by the blowing sand. The warmthless winter sun pounded down, so harsh that the light hurt our eyes. Nothing seemed to live or move on that expanse except wind, sun shadow, and sand.

And we did not have much food or water. And the calf of my unseen Source led us straight across the waste.

We camped on the last dry, rocky hill to consider.

“You two could turn into eagles or something and fly right over it,” Frain said. “In fact, I have been wondering for some time why you struggle along as humans at all. You could just fly away.”

It’s not so simple, grumbled Dair.

“What?”

“It’s not so simple,” I translated. “Anyway,” I added, “we would not want to leave you.”

“That’s nice,” he said, a trifle sarcastically. “But one of you could turn bird and go scouting. Or you could be horses and let me ride you across. Why is it not so simple?” I tried to explain. It was always awkward talking to him because he understood only the crude human languages. “Magic cannot* be used, really,” I said. “It comes as Trevyn’s dreams come, or rain—when it will. Usually only for sheerest fun or in time of greatest need:”

“Don’t we need to get across there?” Frain asked. “Or at least, you say we do.”

“We do.” I ignored his surliness. “But we are not dying, are we?”

“Not yet.”

“Listen,” I said. “When you had the power, the healing power, would you use it to cure a hangnail?”

“No, of course not,” he retorted stiffly. “I used it only if someone was very ill or gravely hurt. And then it would . shoot through me like lightning and leave me weak for days afterward…” Frain suddenly looked sheepish. “I was not thinking,” he said. “Do you two bear something like that, some sort of—well, penalty?”

“No,” I had to admit. “No, nothing like that. But the point is, you knew the power was not to be used for—oh, warts and things.”

“And you say this is a wart we are sitting on now.” Frain grinned at Dair, and Dair barked out his gruff laugh.

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