[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
My Delia I had to get the disaster that had overtaken me in proportion. My overriding duty lay to
Delia, and through her to Vallia, and to my people of Valka because I was their Strom. Also I owed a
duty to Strombor and my clansmen of the Great Plains. But Gloag in Strombor and Hap Loder with the
clans did everything right, as I well knew, and my duty was fully and freely carried out by them. Delia
I had to think of other things. Like the teasing arguments we indulged in so often over the merits and
demerits of the wonderful zorcas of her Blue Mountains blue-grass grazing estates as against the
fabulous zorcas of my clansmen.
So with some of my ill-gotten winnings I went to the zorcadrome to buy myself the best zorca I could.
The zorcas of Djanduin are fine animals. But then, it is difficult to find a zorca that is not a fine animal, for
of all the animals of Kregen, I believe, it is the zorca who most nobly fulfills its ancestral breeding. This is
not to gainsay the superb quality of the vove, that fearsome steed of the Great Plains. But voves real
voves are found only there in the natural state, while zorcas are found in many areas of Kregen.
Passing the totrixdrome as you know I have never been fond of the sectrix, the nactrix, or the totrix,
or of any other of thetrix family and hurrying on with Khobo the So chattering away in my ear as he
guided me through the throngs of people who seem forever to wander and push and shout through the
markets of two worlds, we came out to a wide dusty space fenced in with lenken rails. A pair of zorcas
were racing up toward us, having completed a circuit of the oval, and they were neck and neck. Even at
speed like that a clansman can point a zorca, and the faults of both these were at once apparent. But a fat
cortilinden merchant, sweating happily as he paid out golden deldys, bought them for his son, who looked
as though a quick belt on the backside would suit him better than a zorca saddle. They were Lamnias,
and so the merchant should have known better.
Rubbish! Khobo whispered in my ear. He was a jaunty rogue, a carousing companion I had rescued
from a brawl and who had stuck to me since. I know old Planath the Zorca. He will not cheat me.
I grimaced at the name of Planath s, for although it is common on Kregen for the occupation to decide
the label and very colorful that is, to be sure there were places I knew where to be called anything
at all to do with zorcas meant much effort and sweat, not a little blood, and general approbation from
one s peers. As for that genial rascal Khobo, he was calledthe So for obvious reasons. He d been in the
army and as a young man had had his upper left arm lopped off. Asso is Kregish forthree, thus Khobo
wasthe So.
As I casually inspected the zorcas on display for some reason I have always disliked the use of the
word horseflesh for horses and zorcaflesh for zorcas I was vividly reminded of what my father used to
tell me as he doctored up a lame horse, or patted a strong chestnut neck, his eyes filled with the love of
horses. It was with a nostalgic thought or two that I came at last to a magnificent pair held by two Djang
grooms of Planath the Zorca s establishment.
Wonderful animals, Notor, wonderful! Planath babbled on, but cunningly. See their quarters, their
fetlocks, see their teeth At this, like two rat-traps, the lads opened up the zorcas mouths. Both are
guaranteed perfect! Never, I swear by Holy Djan Himself, have there been two such zorcas as these.
Khobo rolled spittle around his mouth and spat into the dust. He laid a finger on the soft nose of the
larboard one.
I shook my head.
This one, I think, Khobo.
At this everyone began to wrangle, thoroughly enjoying themselves in the dust and the summer
suns-shine, having supple Djangi girls bring them beaker after beaker of that sherbet drink called parclear
that tickles the nose and is a sovereign thirst-quencher. Khobo, I knew, had not spotted that tiny
divergence in the shoulder blades of the zorca he chose so confidently. That one was a splendid
snow-white and, indeed, was a magnificent animal. But the one I wanted, and would give no reason for
so doing beyond a stubborn foolishness, was the one a clansman would have selected, for all that he was
a dusty shabby gray color. But I liked the look of him, the bright light of intelligence in his eyes.
So you rush upon disaster, good Notor! Well, I can say no more! And Khobo the So threw up his
three hands in despair. Choose this Dust Pounder, Notor, and have done, then.
So, astride Dust Pounder, thrilling again to the feel of a blood zorca between my knees, I rode back to
the tavern at which for the moment I stayed. This wasThe Paline and Queng, run by a fat and happy
Obdjang who knew exactly where every last ob came from and went to, and who made the best vosk
pie in all Djanguraj. I downed some of his better wine, a clear yellow vintage from east, beyond the
Mountains of Mirth, and bade Khobo sup up, and roared out that now I would challenge all comers in
the zorca races.
This, as you will see, was a highly cunning way for a Krozair of Zy to earn his daily bread. But as I have
said, I felt bitter and betrayed and desolated, in those early days in Djanduin.
Well, I will not weary you with a recital of my daily doings, as those doings wearied me. Suffice it to say
that I raced Dust Pounder, and we won handsome sums of golden deldys; and I made the acquaintance
of my Lady Lara Kholin Domon, who herself raced zorcas and who, perhaps, felt annoyance that she
had lost, and who yet concealed that annoyance because she fancied some affection for me. The Lady
Lara oh, yes, she was a girl with fire and spirit, who rode like the east wind over the Sunset Sea. Yet
she had a humility that was totally amused each time some proud Djang buck proposed to her. Her
middle name Kholin proclaimed to all Djanduin that she came of a most powerful and wealthy tan
or House or clan or tribe of Djanguraj. The Fellins and the Stolins were not in the same class as
the Kholins.
We raced our zorcas against each other, and old Dust Pounder carried me to victory, for I would not
shame her by pulling on his rein and so allowing her a hollow victory.
Her wild coppery hair blazed under the suns as we rode, her lithe and lissome form, clad in gray
[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]