Tales of the Dying Earth by Jack Vance Read Free Book Online Page B

will strike life into your sword; and I will give you advice, which is this: Beware of men, for men loot beauty to sate their lust. Permit intimacy to none ... I will give you a bag of jewels, which are riches on Earth. With these you may attain much. Yet, again, show them nowhere, for certain men will slay for a copper bit."
    A heavy silence came, a weight was gone from the air.
    "Pandelume," called T'sais softly. There was no reply.
    After a moment Pandelume returned, and the sense of his presence reached to her mind.
    "In a moment," he said, "you may enter this room."
    T'sais waited a period; then, as she was bid, entered the next room.
    "On the bench to the left," came Pandelume's voice, "you will find an amulet and a little sack of gems. Clasp this amulet upon your wrist; it will reflect magic intended evilly against him who utters the spell. This is a most powerful rune; guard it well."
    T'sais obeyed, and tied the jewels inside her sash.

    "Lay your sword upon this bench, stand upon the rune in the floor and close your eyes tightly. I must enter the room. I charge you, do not attempt to see me—for there are terrible consequences."
    T'sais discarded her sword, stood upon the metal rune, locked her eyes. She heard a slow step, heard the clink of metal, then a high intense shrilling, dying slowly.
    "Your sword lives," said Pandelume, and his voice sounded strangely loud, coming from so near. "It will kill your enemies with intelligence.
    Reach your hand and take it."
    T'sais sheathed her slim rapier, now warm and quivering.
    "Where on Earth will you go?" asked Pandelume. "To the land of men, or to the great ruined wildernesses?"
    "To Ascolais," said T'sais, for the one who had told her of beauty had spoken of this land.
    "As you wish," said Pandelume. "Now hark! If you ever seek to return to Embelyon—"
    "No," said T'sais. "I would rather die."
    "Please yourself in that regard."
    T'sais remained silent.
    "Now I will touch you. You will be dizzy a moment— and then you will open your eyes on Earth. It is almost night, and terrible things rove the dark. So seek shelter quickly."
    In high excitement T'sais felt the touch of Pandelume. There was a wavering in her brain, a swift unthinkable flight . . . Strange soil was under her feet, strange air at her face with a sharper tang. She opened her eyes.
    The landscape was strange and new. There was a dark blue sky, an ancient sun. She stood in a meadow, encircled by tall gloomy trees.
    These trees were unlike the calm giants of Embelyon; these were dense and brooding, and the shadows were enigmatic. Nothing in sight, nothing of Earth was raw or harsh—the ground, the trees, the rock ledge protruding from the meadow; all these had been worked upon, smoothed, aged, mellowed. The light from the sun, though dim, was rich, and invested every object of the land, the rocks, the trees, the quiet grasses and flowers, with a sense of lore and ancient recollection.
    A hundred paces distant rose the mossy ruins of a long-tumbled castelry. The stones were blackened now by lichens, by smoke, by age; grass grew rank through the rubble—the whole a weird picture in the long light of sunset.
    T'sais slowly approached. Some of the walls yet were standing, stone on weathered stone, the mortar long since dissolved. She moved wonderingly around a great effigy, mouldered, chipped, cracked, almost entirely buried; puzzled a moment at the characters carved in the base.
    Wide-eyed she stared at what remained of the visage —cruel eyes, sneering mouth, a nose broken off. T'sais shuddered faintly. There was nothing here for her; she turned to go.
    A laugh, high-pitched, gleeful, rang across the clearing. T'sais, mindful of Pandelume's warnings, waited in a dark recess. Movement flickered between the trees; a man and woman lurched into the failing sunlight; then came a young man treading light as air, singing and whistling. He held a light sword, which he used to prod the two, who were bound.
    They