[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

Monreale. "She has no relatives here. No woman should live alone, with no
master to her household. Particularly not a young woman. And Fiametta
Beneforte still less. A situation fraught with danger. There is a gap of rank
between you, true, but the testimony of this ring is& unusual. What you are,
though, is very young and poor to be thinking of setting up a household."
He hadn't been thinking of it, till Monreale brought it up.
"Yet not too young for me to send into a danger I fear could be& " Monreale
trailed off. "God help me." That was intoned as a prayer. His voice firmed.
"It's a rare and happy man, son, who ever finds his true vocation, his true
love, or his true faith." He nodded to the ring. "There is no evil in this for
you."
Footsteps sounded in the outer room, and Brother Ambrose ducked into the inner
chamber, followed by Fiametta. Her wildly curling hair was subdued this
morning in a thick braid down her back. It made her look serene, older, an
effect slightly spoiled by a few stray wisps of straw sticking here and there
to her filthy red velvet dress. Thur wanted her to look less tired and
worried. She had laughed once, on the road yesterday, at something Thur had
said. He wanted her to laugh again. Her laughter had been like water on the
hot day. His distress for her weariness and worry became all mixed up in his
head with a sudden picture of her, laughing, in a marriage bed, her smooth
brown limbs flashing in some froth of nightgown&
Monreale composed his face into stern lines. He pointed at the lion ring. "Did
you make this, Fiametta?"
She glanced from Monreale's face to Thur's and back again, and said faintly,
"Yes, Father."
"Under your Papa's supervision?"
She swallowed. "No, Father. Well, yes and no."
Monreale's gray brows rose. "Which? Yes, or no?"
"No." Her sculptured chin lifted. "But he knew of it."
"It seems to be a Beneforte trait, to dabble in questionable rings," said
Monreale in a dry tone. "You know Master Beneforte had not licensed you as his
apprentice."
"I've been learning the jeweler's craft for years. You know that, Father
Monreale."
"The metalwork is not my concern."
"You knew I assisted him in his spells."
"Such assistance as was proper, under a licensed mage. This, however, is not a
work of assistance. Neither is it the work of a clumsy amateur. How came you
to know so much?"
"I often assisted him, Father." After a long, expectant silence, she added
reluctantly, "I found the spell written out in one of Papa's books. Investing
it in the ring was no problem, I already knew the gold-casting part. I just
followed the directions very carefully. There didn't seem to be much to it. No
flash. I was disappointed, at first, because I didn't think it had worked,
because& because Uri didn't put it on. I tried to give it to him."
"Ah!" said Monreale in a professionally interested tone, that he converted to
Page 60
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
a more neutral throat-clearing noise.
"But then I gradually realized that no one could put it on. That soldier, and
the thieving innkeeper both tried hard to steal it for its gold, but they
couldn't."
She glanced covertly at Thur. "Um& is it working, Father?"
"We will discuss that later. So, you read your Papa's books. With his
permission?"
"Uh& no."
"Fiametta, that is the sin of disobedience."
"No, it wasn't! He didn't forbid me. That is& I didn't ask. But I found out
later he was watching me all the time, and he didn't stop me. So that's almost
like permission, isn't it?"
Thur could have sworn that Abbot Monreale suppressed a smile at this
sophistry, but the flicker of expression in the stern visage was gone again
almost at once. "Master Beneforte never applied to me for your license."
"He was going to. He was just so busy, lately, with the saltcellar and the
Perseus and all his other commissions. I'm sure he was going to."
Monreale raised his brows again.
"All right," Fiametta sighed, "I'm not sure. But we did talk about it. I
begged him to, countless times. Father Monreale, I want to be a mage! I can do
good work, I know I can! Better than Teseo. It's not fair!"
"What it is not, is properly approved," said Monreale. "Not properly
supervised. I've seen souls lost to such hubris, Fiametta."
"So approve me! Papa's not here to ask for me, I suppose I can ask for myself
now. Who else? I want to be good, let me be!"
Monreale said mildly, "You ran ahead of me. First comes contrition,
confession, and penance. Then absolution. I haven't even finished my sermon on
contrition yet."
Fiametta's brown eyes heated with a sudden glimmer of anticipation, at the
leakage of humor and hope from behind Monreale's firm facade. She straightened
alertly, almost bouncing. "Oh, get to my penance, Father, quickly!"
"Your penance will be to go to the altar of Our Lady in the chapel and pray,
on your knees, for patience and obedience. When you feel your prayer has been
answered, go eat your noon meal, then come back to me here. I urgently need a
talented assistant in addition to Brother Ambrose, who is as exhausted as
myself. I have a project to complete this afternoon, before Compline."
"In magic? You're going to let me help you?" Her voice thrilled.
"Yes, child."
She danced around him, and hugged him hard, habit and all. He fended her off,
smiling despite himself. "You must truly compose your mind in prayer first,
remember. Demanding, 'Mother Mary, grant me patience and grant it right now!'
won't do."
"How do you know?" Fiametta's eyes sparkled.
"Hm. Well. You can try it, I suppose. Who am I to say what the Mother of God
can't do, in her infinite mercy? The faster she speeds you to patience the
sooner I can put you to work. Ah. One other thing, first. I'm sending your
friend Thur here on an errand, and I fear that big gold ring would be too
conspicuous on his hand. I can draw it off with a little spell, but you can
just draw it off."
"But& it's stuck. I saw it. How can I draw it off if he can't?"
"Put simply, he doesn't want to."
"But I really tried, Father!" Thur said.
"I know you did. I will discuss the inner structure of the Master of Cluny's
spell with you in some less hurried time."
Frowning in puzzlement, Fiametta turned to Thur. Obediently, he held out his
hand. Her tapering brown fingers closed over the lion ring; it returned to her
palm as smoothly as if greased. "Oh," she said, startled.
Monreale handed her a long thong. "I suggest you keep it around your neck, out
of sight, Fiametta. Till you come to give it back." He gave her an
indecipherable look.
Page 61
ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.html
Thur's finger felt empty, light and cold without his no, her ring. He rubbed
at the lonely spot, already missing the reassurance that touching the lion had
given him.
The shuffle of sandaled feet came from the outer room; a monk knocked politely
on the doorframe, then stuck his head through. "Father? Lord Ferrante's herald
is at the outer gate."
"I come, I come." Monreale waved him out. "Thur, I want you to rest in the
afternoon. I'll send a brother to rouse you when it's time. Fiametta, I'll see
you here after the noon meal. Go along now." He herded them ahead of him, out
through his office, pausing to attend to something at the desk with Brother
Ambrose. Thur followed Fiametta down the stairs into the shade of the cloister
walk around the courtyard. A few doves paced solemnly about on the lawn in the
sunlight, pecking vainly for food bits in the grass.
Stone benches lined the walkway between the arched stone pillars. Enticed,
Thur sat down on one. Fiametta alighted on the other end. Her fingers touched [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • thierry.pev.pl

    •