Gathering Storm by Kate Elliott

Author:Kate Elliott [Elliott, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Fantasy, General
ISBN: 9780756401320
Google: nIanHfbiCloC
Amazon: B007CRY3MK
Goodreads: 210196
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2003-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Liath turned up her hands to expose the lighter skin of her palms. "It's gone already," she said, surprised to find it so. The merest sting, like the probing of a bee, and a sheeny pink flush shading the skin were all that betrayed which hand had touched Sorgatani.

'You are very powerful! I hope we can become allies."

'I hope we can become friends."

Sorgatani's smile was, like a rare flower, beautiful and precious and bright.

Hammering blows stuttered against the door. The entire structure shuddered. In a cacophony of bells, the younger servant leaped up and slid the door sideways enough to peer through. Torchlight flashed through that gap. Outside, amazingly, night had fallen although Liath had no sense of so much time elapsing while she conversed with Sorgatani.

'Bright One!" The shaman's powerful voice had the force of an avalanche. Even Sorgatani, unwittingly, trembled.

'Come quickly, Bright One! Prince Sanglant is missing. He has taken the child."

PAIN made his head throb, and he knew that pain of such intensity, touching every point in his body, did not help him think straight. But he would not remain a prisoner in the centaur camp any longer. If he had no help from his wife in making his escape, so be it. He had survived four years without her. He had managed all that time. He could manage now.

'My lord prince! You shouldn't try to stand, my lord!"

It was astonishing how much agony it cost him to stand. "My clothes, Anna."

Dressing was child's work, yet he grimaced as he pulled his wool tunic on over his under-tunic. He could not bend to bind on his leggings, so he sat on the chest and let Anna lace up his boots.

'Where is my spear?"

They had left his gear on the carpet next to his pallet, which suggested that he was not, precisely, a captive, but he ignored these distracting thoughts as he buckled his sword over his back, wincing, and threw his cloak over everything, pushed back on the left shoulder so he could draw his sword. Every time he moved, he felt a thousand daggers pricking him in each muscle; hot fire ran up his tendons. His chest ached horribly; each breath hurt.

'It's here, my lord."

'Are you strong enough to carry Blessing?" "I think so, my lord. But—" "Pick her up."

'Her Highness Liathano has not returned yet, my lord. She went out with the shaman—"

'Anna!"

She knelt beside Blessing, got her arms around the girl, and heaved her up. Blessing wasn't that much smaller than Anna but she was light, and Anna was strong and stubborn. She draped the unconscious Blessing over her shoulders like a sack of grain. Sanglant got a good grip on the spear. The extra weight of the sword across his back seemed like the hand of a giant, pressing him down, but he refused to give in to weakness.

The healer sat placidly by the door, watching his struggles without speaking, her kohl-lined eyes intent with curiosity and her broad face as expressionless as uncarved stone.

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