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the first businesses to open, the click and whirr of gaming wheels starting to sound from inside
the main room on the ground floor.
All in all, the city was now giving an impression of starting to come awake from its nightmare, of
pulling itself together- to some extent. Not that conditions were back to normal, or anywhere
close to that. Still, the Baron saw many people putting aside weapons, beginning what must be
their daily routines, despite the glazed and wary look in their eyes. Probably, thought Amintor,
observing carefully, some who were not really Mindsword-converts were pretending that they were,
thinking thus to protect themselves against attack. And perhaps real converts were playing the
game the other way, as agents provocateurs.
Hundreds, it seemed, were discarding and burning garments and flags of blue and green, making up
new ones out of black cloth and any yellow fabric that might pass for gold.
Still other folk, as if exhausted by noisy demonstration or activities still more energetic, sat
quietly now, their hands and garments sometimes smeared with blood, their faces numb and blank, as
if they might be considering the inner meaning of their lives.
The Baron, while munching on his bread and broiled fish, made use of his time to do some
thoughtful considering of his own. Looming large was the fact that he himself had been in the city
for a couple of hours now but was still unbewitched. The most likely explanation of that, of
course, was that the Mindsword's influence had only passed over these people and moved on
elsewhere; Skulltwister was no longer on the scene, or at least no longer drawn and active.
Another possible explanation, one Amintor considered much more unlikely, was that he was being
individually protected by some magic of a potency equal to that of Shield-breaker-if any such
equality could be imagined.
Had Coinspinner somehow, without his knowledge, obtained for him immunity to Skulltwister? The
Baron shook his head. He thought the chance of that extremely remote, though he could not rule it
out absolutely. In general the Sword of Chance provided protection by keeping its possessor away
from danger. Coinspinner had brought him here to Sarykam, and so here he ought to stand in no
great peril.
The thought of Shieldbreaker reminded Amintor that the Sword of Force was, or had been, generally
thought to be in Sarykam, under the control of Prince Mark. Well, if so, the Prince had obviously
not been able to get his hands on it in time to save his city. If several Swords had really been
kept here in the palace armory, as was popularly believed, a successful surprise attack might have
captured one or more of them.
The Baron's thoughts drifted. What he had always wanted, really wanted in his heart of hearts, was
the chance to be a general-better yet, a field marshal; to command a victorious human army, to win
or at least have a fighting chance of winning the great game of power, the struggle in which for
forty years all the Swords had played such a central part.
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And over the past several months the Sword of Chance, coming suddenly into his possession like an
answer to his prayers-not that he had really offered any prayers-had allowed him to realize his
dream, at least as far as forming the army he had wanted.
As for being able to lead his army into battle, well, he supposed that wish would be granted him,
in the Sword's good time.
It occurred to the watching Baron that other travelers must be approaching the city this morning,
as on any other morning, and that a few of these, at least those with the strongest reasons for
doing so, must be actually entering, despite all the obvious signs of disaster.
In fact he was soon able to observe some of these, who with evident trepidation were making their
way to a place near the central square. The Baron watched with measured interest as at that point
they came to grief through not being quick enough to emulate the fanaticism by which they now
found themselves surrounded.
Amintor's natural disinclination to interfere with whatever was happening to the victims was not
disturbed by any counsel of his Sword. Coinspinner lay inert at his side.
Sipping tea from the vendor's cracked mug and trying to better understand the situation, the Baron
made an effort to mentally reconstruct last night's events here in the capital. It seemed to him
that Vilkata, armed with the Mindsword and doubtless accompanied by his usual swarm of demons,
must have launched his sneak attack upon Sarykam no more than a few hours ago. Then the Dark King,
having quickly secured the palace and achieved his own apotheosis in the hearts of a key segment
of the population, must have given orders to take hostages. Having taken that precaution he had
himself moved on, no doubt in pursuit of Mark or other enemies. And, of course, Vilkata would have
taken Skulltwister with him.
It seemed likely that the conqueror would be returning to his conquered city fairly soon.
Certainly the Dark King knew as well as anyone how impermanent were the Mindsword's spells; unless
they were renewed every couple of days, Vilkata would stand in serious danger of losing his grip [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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