Noman by William Nicholson Read Free Book Online Page B

pay his price for the direct road over the pass. But this young one was different. He was lean and hard, his face burned by the sun and scoured by the wind. He went barefoot and wore simple gray clothing, like a beggar priest; but he had the far stare of a hunter.

    Seeker came striding at speed up the stony track, overtaking other travellers without a word or a glance. He saw the toll-keeper draw a loop of rope tight in his hands. He heard the creak of the bolt in the dog-cage door as the rope tightened. He heard the whining and yelping of the dogs as they broke into flurries of fighting among themselves.
    The toll-keeper called out to him as he approached the gate.
    "You pass, you pay."
    Seeker did not pause, and he did not pay.
    "Stop right there," cried the toll-keeper, "or I loose the dogs!"
    Seeker looked up and raised one hand. The toll-keeper gasped and sagged in his chair. His broad-brimmed hat fell first; and after it, his body tipped and toppled to the ground. Seeker then made a single impatient sweep of his arms and the high barrier burst before him, as if hit by a hurricane. The flying fragments of timber fell on the cages, smashing the frames, and the dogs broke free. Crazed with terror, trained to attack and kill, the howling pack flew at Seeker. He raised one hand and fixed them with his hard clear gaze, and they fell before him, one after another, as if he had punched them.
    The toll-keeper, limping to his feet, looked round at his smashed barrier and his writhing dogs.

    "Who are you?" he said.
    But Seeker did not stop. He strode on to the nearby summit of the pass. There he stood still for a few moments, gazing intently at the long road that wound down on the far side into the sunbaked plain. Far away a horse-drawn wagon was moving fast over the dusty road towards the distant forest. In the open wagon, just visible from the pass, lay two white-canopied litters.
    Now the other travellers on the road were coming up to the pass. The nearest of them had witnessed the stranger's astonishing power, and they hurried after him, reaching out to him, trying to touch him.
    "Let us come with you," they called to him. "Protect us. Save us."
    They saw the attack dogs crawling to him on their bellies, whining. Some travellers in their excitement and awe fell to their knees.
    "Who are you?" they cried. "You must be a god!"
    He turned when he heard that, and his brown eyes were filled with sadness.
    "I'm not a god," he said. "My name is Seeker. And I can't help you."
    With that, he continued on his way. As they watched him go they saw him break into a long loping run that covered the ground at great speed. In a short time he was beyond reach of their cries, descending the hill road to the plains.
    Those who had heard him speak passed on to the others what they had learned.

    "His name's Seeker. He's not a god. He can't help us."
    "Then he must be an evil spirit."
    The toll-keeper picked up his hat and rammed it back onto his head and said, "He's worse than an evil spirit. He's a monster. He's come to destroy us all."
    "A destroyer!" They looked at one another with wide eyes. "He must be the Assassin!"

    High in the branches of a beech tree, deep in the forest, Echo Kittle sat in a swing seat twisting this way and that in the dappled light, listening to Orvin Chipe propose marriage.
    "I don't believe there's anyone else you like better than me," Orvin said. His voice sounded squeaky and hurt, which made her feel annoyed. "And we've known each other all our lives. And you're the only one for me. So there it is."
    For some reason all she could think about was how long his neck was and how his throat wobbled when he talked.
    "I'm not the only one, Orvin," she said.
    "Yes, you are. I don't want anyone but you."
    "That's just stupid. If I died you'd marry someone else."
    "I'd marry them, maybe," said Orvin doggedly, "but I wouldn't want them. And anyway, you're not dead."
    "Well, I can't marry you."
    She knew she should say that