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 Hoy, you mean it will become less hot. The swordsman wiped perspiration from
his brow and neck.
 Not in any way, shape, or form does the word  cool apply to this place.
In the course of their travels they had encountered many strange life-forms
surviving in equally strange environments. From the blizzard-cocooned crests
of mountains to the high dunes of the desert, from swamps shallow and deep to
the vast open reaches of the Semordria itself, there had always been life, be
it nothing more than a limpet or a leaf. Until now, until this tormented,
perfectly flat plain of desiccated salts. There was not even, a panting
Ahlitah pointed out, a warm worm to tickle a cat s taste buds.
With the onset of evening the heat fell, but not as fast as the sun. Even
after dark, parching temperatures persisted. Mentally, walking was easier
without the brilliant bright bloodshot eye of the sun staring you ruthlessly
in the face. Physically, it was only a little less difficult.
Their meals, such as they were, had been necessarily skewed by their
topsy-turvy schedule. Supper became breakfast, lunch a midnight snack, and
breakfast, supper. Not that it mattered. Their stores were limited in quantity
and consequently offered little in the way of variety. What one ate was often
the same, meal after meal. Such victuals kept them alive, but their bellies
were not entertained.
At least the moon was on their side, Ehomba reflected as they trudged along.
Nearly full, bright as stibnite crystals and almost as hard of aspect, it
allowed them to stride forth with some idea not only of where they were going,
but also of what lay in their immediate path. By its providential brightness
obviating the need for torches, it allowed them to advance with a modicum of
comfort.
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
By midnight the air had cooled sufficiently to raise their spirits. Water was
still in plentiful supply. In light of the other hardships they were enduring,
Ehomba had not had the heart to propose rationing.
When he finally did venture to broach the subject, he was shouted down by all
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three of his companions.
They might not have much else, but at least they could drink their fill.
Furthermore, the more they drank, the less weight they had to carry. And as
Ahlitah pointed out, he was confident he would be able to smell water as soon
as they reached the mountains. It might not seem like much, but even the
herdsman had to admit that a long, cool drink compensated for much of what
they did not have.
Resuming the march rejuvenated and refreshed but acutely conscious of the
ominous presence of the sun lurking just over the eastern horizon, they
entered an area of the salt pan that was not flat. Merged as it was with its
identically tinted surroundings, it was not surprising they had missed seeing
it from a distance. Though equally devoid of food or water, it at least gave
them something new to look at and comment upon.
Towers of salt rose around them, not numerous enough to impede their progress
but sufficient to alter it from time to time. Worn by the wind and the
occasional infrequent storm, they had been weathered into a fantastic array of
shapes. Amusing themselves by assigning names to the formations, the travelers
competed to see who could identify the most outrageous or exceptional.
Pointing sharply to a column of whitened, translucent halite that had been
undercut by the wind, Hunkapa Aub conveyed childlike excitement in his voice.
 See that, see there! An ape bowing to us, acknowledging our passage.
Simna cast a critical eye on the structure.  Looks more like a pile of rubbish
to me.
 No, no! Moving close and nearly knocking the swordsman down in the process,
Hunkapa jabbed a thick, hirsute finger in the column s direction.  It an ape.
See the eye is there, those are the hands, down at the bottom are the 
 Ask it if it can show us a shortcut out of here, Simna grunted. Nodding to
his left, he singled out a ridge of distorted, eroded salt crystals.  Now that
looks like something. The jade wall of the Grand
Norin s palace, complete with open gates and war turrets. He gestured with a
hand.  If you squint a little you can even see the floating gardens that front
the palace over by ...
But Hunkapa Aub was not listening. Elated by one discovery of the imagination
after another, he was prancing from the nearest formation to the next,
gleefully assigning a name to each and every one as proudly as if his fanciful
appellations were destined to appear on some future gilded traveler s map of
the territory. Ehomba looked on tolerantly. Of them all, their hulking
companion was suffering the most from the heat. Simna obviously thought the
brute was making a fool of himself, but Ehomba knew that no one is a fool who
can find humor in desolation.
He found himself playing the naming game. It was irresistible, the first
harmless diversion they had
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A Triumph of Souls: Journeys of the Catechist, Book 3
enjoyed in many days. Not only was it gently amusing, especially when made-up
names for the same formation were compared side by side, but it helped greatly
to pass an otherwise disagreeable time. He and Simna wordlessly agreed to
compete to find the most suitable cognomen for certain structures. The game
was left to them in any case, since the black litah found it repetitive and
Hunkapa Aub was quite lost, happily adrift on a sea of a thousand
multitudinous namings of his own.
 That column there, the swordsman was saying,  see how it sparkles and dances
in the moonlight? He singled out a formation spotted with many small crystals
of gypsum.  I once knew a dancer like that.
She would glue pearls and precious gems all over herself. Then when at the end
of her dance she removed the last of her veils it was revealed that the jewels
were glued not to the fabric of her costume but to her naked skin, and that
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all along they had only been glistening through the sheer material she had
been wearing. He turned to his companion.  What does it look like to you? [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]