The Bronze of Eddarta Read Online Free

Because Markasset was descended from the man who had destroyed the corrupt Kingdom, and because I had been given his unique steel sword, that seemed to be the standard conclusion people jumped to when they found out I was a Gandalaran personality returned from the All-Mind.
    Of course, that’s not what I was, but I had let the few who knew about me believe it, because the concept was acceptable to them. No one in Gandalara knew the truth about where this “Visitor” had come from.
    Ricardo had been cruising the Mediterranean Ocean—a concept in itself unacceptable to the desert-familiar Gandalarans—in the company of the lovely young Antonia Alderuccio when the fireball had somehow transported Ricardo to the Kapiral Desert, Markasset, and Keeshah. That star-covered night, and Antonia, were secret memories that came often to my dreams.
    It turned out that I was wrong about what Thymas was thinking.
    “That’s why Gharlas called you ‘double-minded!’ ” he cried. “Is that why you could break—? … Oh.”
    I didn’t say anything while he mulled it over, all his thoughts turned inward. When his eyes refocused, he said: “All right. You’ve convinced me. Now, what proof will you accept that I’ll follow orders?”
    “All I need is your word, Thymas, freely given.”

3
    I was on the slope below the workshop, walking back from the bath-house, when the sudden Gandalaran night overtook me. Although no starlight could penetrate the cloud cover, the diffused moonlight gave a ghostly glow to the large features around me—the road, the fields, the outlines of the workshops. A brighter patch of light marked the upstairs window of Volitar’s old living quarters, and I aimed my steps in that direction.
    As I neared the downhill entrance of the house, I heard the sound of Tarani’s humming, and I was able to separate her from the other dark shapes. Ronar was stretched out on the ground, lying on his side. Tarani was kneeling behind him, touching the ugly, infected gash on the back of his neck with one hand. Her other hand was stroking his head slowly, smoothing the fur between his tapered ears.
    While I stood there watching, the cat’s labored breathing slowed and softened; his limbs moved slightly as the muscles relaxed into Tarani’s hypnotic sleep.
    I could resist or accept Tarani’s powers. This one I had accepted, benefited from, and enjoyed. It had become harder to resist, and right then I had to shake my head to keep from falling under the spell of her rich, compelling voice.
    When Tarani had finished, she stood up and came over to me. She touched my arm and led me away from the house so our voices wouldn’t disturb the sleeping cat.
    “It would be hypocritical of me, now,” she said, “to question your decision, Rikardon. But I am concerned for Ronar and Thymas. You must know that they really aren’t ready to travel.”
    “Tell me something,” I said. “Was it easier to put Thymas and Ronar to sleep tonight?”
    “Yes,” she answered, after thinking about it for a minute. “Yes, it was.”
    “Staying here was tearing Thymas apart inside, Tarani. He wanted us to get going, but didn’t want to be left behind. His sense of duty was in conflict with his desires. And that was another source of guilt for him.
    “Sitting still is hard for a man like Thymas. That inner turmoil had to be interfering with your healing. Now that he knows we’re all going to
do
something—and now that he and I know where we stand—I’m hoping he’ll mend faster.”
    She laughed and shook her head as she took two quick steps forward. The window’s light cast a golden sheen on her fine-boned, pale face as she turned toward me.
    “Why is it, Rikardon,” she said, “that I have the mind-gift, yet you read people more clearly than I?”
    She was not speaking of telepathy. She meant what Ricardo would call intuition, or empathy, and what Markasset would define as a strong link with the All-Mind: an ability to compare an