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a moment Hightower was with him, and together they stopped the door, managing
to keep it open a few hands width. But this was gap enough for Kisst-Haa,
stumping up after them, to wedge clawed hands in and pull the portal
irresistibly wider, opening it again.
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Gil knew that same feeling that comes with healthy awakening from a fever
dream. Now that the energies seeking to drain him had been abated, life
swelled in him. One side of his mind was coming out of the all-encompassing
sorrow of Duskwind s death, braving to deal with it subjectively. His brain
had known it, but somehow now, in this bizarre turn of events, his skin and
heart and loins learned.
He d held her hand at the last, feeling the remarkable warmth of her ebb
slowly until the brown-gold fingers were cold. It came back now, that feeling,
an emphatic declaration of her departure. He accepted it with a species of
welcome; it was some excruciating sacrament that passed him, vengeful, into a
state of unholy grace. He took up his carbine and a grim smile touched his
lips.
Springbuck leaped through the reopened door, Bar in one hand and his knife in
the other.  We must move apace, he called, and with that was in hot pursuit
of the vanished magician.
Though they d lost mere seconds, the Prince did not overtake the sorcerer. At
the bottom of the stairs the arras covering the lower portal had been ripped
away. As Springbuck charged into the brightly lit room, the general furor was
eloquent word that Bey had passed this way and given the alarm.
The atmosphere of the Court hit them like a storm front, compounded of the
heat of revelry and its exertions, the smells of the drinking, the seductions
and the sweaty laughter of the evening s merrymaking. They were stopped for an
instant by its tropical intensity, as tipsy surprise changed the faces of the
guests there.
The Prince was shoved aside from behind by Reacher as an arrow hissed down
past him to splinter on the hard flooring stones. Court archers were warned,
and marshaling to carry out their duty, while terrified courtiers flooded
toward the main doors. The three ogre-guards had closed ranks around
Strongblade, who stood in white-faced fury on his dais. The Usurper s lips
were drawn back, his hatred of the true Heir plain. His hand clutched
Flarecore s hilt at his side.
Gil and Van Duyn were through into the throne room, adding to the uproar with
the sound of gunfire, concentrating on the bowmen along the walls. Kisst-Haa
had unslung a wide shield from his scaly back; using it to cover himself and
Dunstan along with one of the raider archers, the prowler-cavalryman, he
barged his way to the main doors, scattering the mob to either side with
brutal ease. Even in former times, the Court had known its affluent and idle,
and under Strongblade this had become the common type, no challenge to
Kisst-Haa.
The raider archers were sending arrows of their own winging at their opposite
numbers along the walls as trumpet calls came from the outer halls, the guards
reacting to the unprecedented invasion. The two Americans were firing hastily,
thankful that the wall archers were in plain view rather than hidden behind
iron or stone.
The Prince could see no sign of Fania, and took no time to seek her. Some of
the nobles had mustered themselves and were counterattacking at the behest of
the screaming Strongblade. An Earl in golden finery, known to Springbuck, came
at him in a frenzied flèche; but the Prince sidestepped, locked hilts with him
and delivered a thrust through his ribs with the knife. He searched for
Yardiff Bey but couldn t see him.
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A knot of courtiers had gathered at the foot of the dais. These were rugged
men, brutes and bullies who d been set at Strongblade s feet by hunger for
power and privilege. They saw their precious, newfound rank at hazard and were
determined to make sure it wasn t ended by the premature death of their [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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