The Sword of Morning Star Read Online Free

niches and chinks that let in bright daylight; and the access door in the stone floor above him was partly open; even as he watched, a raven, entering at some hole above, perched on its edge with a mouthful of carrion, then disappeared, nesting up there where soldiers once had kept their guard.
    Nor was the lower floor where he was bedded in much better order. This was jammed and littered with an incredible array of furniture and discarded gear of all sorts and many things which he did not recognize. And there were, too, books—what a quantity of books! This surprised him greatly, for nowadays books and those who could read them were of equal rarity. Legend held that in the old world, before The Fire, there were many books, and reading was a common skill; this, it was said, had contributed to the holocaust. In any event, now reading was equated with sorcery—
    He sat up quickly. “Sorcery!” he said, his voice a croak. With sudden fear, he reaped new meaning from the shelves of books, the strange glass and terra-cotta instruments on the circular table around the wall, the skins and skeletons of small animals; the apothecar’s jars neatly ranked row upon row with indecipherable labels thereupon.
    Sandivar, who had turned away from the bed and was bent over the table, stirring something in a bowl, turned, the rough cloth kirtle swirling. For the first time, Helmut noted the strangeness of his eyes, how deeply set, slanted, and with what strange light glowing. Fear gripped the boy, and his heart pounded. But when Sandivar smiled again, the fear subsided quickly, as if it could not stand against such a smile.
    “Aye,” said the old man. “Sorcerer indeed. And well for you that I be such. For without the powers that I possess, never would I have known of the intrigue of Albrecht, Regent of Boorn, against the sons of Sigrieth. Nor, without those powers, would I have known where to intercept the boat in which you were set adrift. Another half day in that, with sun at full glare, would indeed have finished you, as Albrecht planned. Only that he underestimated the lion cub’s strength and took me not into account… For a lion cub you surely are. A child not of Sigrieth’s blood would long since have lost his eyes to the ravens.” He stroked his beard. “Now,” he said, “have you appetite?”
    At those words all questions in Helmut’s mind were lost in sudden, ravening hunger. “By my father’s sword,” he said, “I could eat a Frorwald boar, uncooked and unsalted.”
    “Not likely are you to find boar here,” said Sandivar. “Nor other royal fare. We sorcerers, banished, must make do as best we can. But fish have I, baked by a Southern art, some fen rice, and wine. That will have to serve. It will be ready shortly. Meanwhile, here—to clothe your nakedness.” He tossed the boy a rough-woven kirtle like his own, and instinctively, Helmut reached out his right hand to catch it. But his right hand was no longer there and he gave a cry as the garment fell to the floor.
    Letting it lie unregarded, he stared in horror at his wrist. It felt, weirdly, as if the hand were still affixed, but the forearm stopped short in a livid, puckered stump of ghastly aspect. Suddenly Helmut’s throat was hot, stinging with nausea, and tears burned in his eyes.
    Aware of Sandivar’s gaze upon him, he regained control. The arm dropped. “I had forgotten,” he muttered, reaching for the kirtle with his left hand.
    “Aye,” Sandivar said tonelessly. “Do not let it trouble you overmuch.”
    Helmut struggled with the kirtle, attempting to get it over his head one-handed. When he finally succeeded, he said, “Only that now I shall never be a man.”
    “Oh?” Sandivar’s brows arched, and the lynx eyes flamed. “And what leads you to that conclusion, my princeling?”
    “A man wields sword and spear and chain-mace with a strong right arm. Even Albrecht said it. Less my hand, I shall never be feared.” He kept his face turned