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is mere drudgery. Making him enjoy the process is called cooking."
"You try making something tasty out of this sludge," Ergo challenged him.
"Nay, my talents lie elsewhere, Magnificence."
"Then, do not presume to criticize those who have the use of such talent."
"I would not, if I could detect any evidence of such a talent in my bowl!"
Ergo turned away from the chuckles of his companions to stare disconsolately
at the remaining stew. "So much for appreciating one's efforts. Well, it seems I've
already lost two friends. I suppose this meal will lose me the rest of them." He
gave the side of the caldron a vicious whack with his stirring spoon. "If only I had
some spices!" He'd tried cursing the concoction but that didn't seem to have pepped
it up. Nor did hot fudge sauce sound like the thing to complement wild game stew.
Colwyn leaned against the side of a normal-sized tree. It was a mere sapling
in the giant forest. He chewed nervously on a much-worried thumbnail as he stared
toward the crest of the dark mountain.
Ynyr was up there someplace, alone, likely walking toward his death. He'd
listened to the wise man's words and understood the wisdom of them, but he still
couldn't help feeling
that he'd be of more use up there on the rocks instead of down in the
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forest, safe and unthreatened.
Yet Ynyr had ordered him to remain behind and remain he would.,. but he
chafed anxiously at the restriction.
A hand touched his sleeve and he started, relaxing when he saw who it was.
That young girl who'd come from the village to help Kegan's woman... Tella no, Vella
her name was.
She carried a bowl of hot stew and held it out to him. Her voice was soft,
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soothing. "You must eat something."
"I'm not hungry."
"Of course you are hungry." She gestured behind her. "All the others are
hungry, so you must be hungry, too."
He smiled down at her. "Your logic is as simple as your dress."
She looked down at her attire and smiled back at him. "I would that I could
look like a fancy court lady, but such is not my destiny."
"Never mind," he told her, "you look just fine."
"Then if my appearance pleases you, please eat something. For me?"
"I've done more for lesser beings. All right, I am hungry. Thank you." He
accepted the bowl. "Do you forgive me for lying to you about my appetite?"
He was teasing her, but she took his words seriously. "Sometimes a man can
carry such a burden that he forgets the needs of his body." She was eyeing him
intently now, blue eyes burning from behind the mask of soot and dirt. "I forgive
you, Colwyn."
He smiled uncertainly at her, then sat down. Still glancing occasionally up
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at the mountain, he devoured the stew. She took a seat nearby and watched him. When
he was almost finished, he gave her a curious look.
"Don't you have anything else to do except sit there and watch me eat?"
She shrugged. "I do what Merith asks of me. She asks nothing of me now. She
is busy enough with matters of her own." Colwyn looked past her but could see no
sign of Kegan or Merith. Their absence spoke volumes, or at least a modest number of
pages.
"You're a funny little thing."
"That's what the people in the village tell me. I try to keep out of their
way. No one bothers me. Are you a real king?"
He grinned. "By accident of birth that is my lot, yes. It's nothing to boast
of. None of us can help what we are born into. Mere chance seems an unfair way to
begin existence."
"Yes, it does," she said with more solemnity than he'd expected. "I had not
thought of it that way before."
Ergo had seen Merith and Kegan vanish into the woods. Now he watched as
Vella sidled close to Colwyn. He cursed his luck along with the stew. It suddenly
occurred to him that he'd been so busy feeding everyone else that he'd not had time
to eat himself.
Bending over the pot, he inspected the remaining stew, selected a healthy
mouthful with the stirring spoon and downed it. After a moment's reflective chewing,
he grimaced, looked around to make sure no one was watching him, and slung the rest
of the spoonful into a helpless bush, muttering to himself.
"The foul filcher was right. It does taste like his boot."
Before long only the remnants of the cooking fire illuminated the camp,
mixed with what moonlight filtered down through the great trees. Bushes moved and
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several figures stealthily approached the sleeping camp. A tall shape moved silently
among them, gently awakening Torquil, Kegan and Oswyn, motioning the startled men to
silence as they awoke. They restrained their curiosity as they followed Rell back
into the forest, knowing that their unvoiced questions would be answered soon.
Several minutes later Titch appeared, stole across the grass until he stood
alongside the recumbent Ergo. He tapped the exhausted cook on the shoulder.
Ergo rolled over, blinked. "Oh, so it's you. Come back with your tail
between your legs, eh? Well I'm not having any of it." He shook the boy's hand off
and turned away from him. "Leave me alone. Go back to your one-eyed friend. Friends
do not keep secrets from each other."
"Sometimes it's necessary," the boy said.
Ergo's reply was slick with sarcasm. "Did your wonderful seer tell you
that?"
"No. I figured it out for myself." He glanced backward, saw the three
thieves and the cyclops emerge from the woods. Between them they carried a bloated,
misshapen object of impressive but irregular dimensions. Titch nudged Ergo once
again.
"Do you know what I think, chef to the unappreciative? I think your nose is
asleep."
"Asleep?" Ergo let out a derisive snort. "This nose? This nose works day and
night, ready to sniff out friends and potential enemies alike. This nose is attuned
to the finest culinary works our civilization has produced. This nose has never
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Alan Dean Foster - Krull [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]