Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "But!" This was getting almost exasperating.I can't say what I'm thinking. Well, yes I can. Why not ? "You're hiding something from me! You know more about him!" The old man's grin went sheepish. "Ayo, 'tax, yes. You caught me. I know his weak points like my own wrinkles. I only been trying to train him out of tsem for seventeen yearrhs, Spirit-inmse-me-for-tseh-sake-of-Yeola-e." "You're hiswar-teacher ?" Somehow Sova had never imagined an Invincible could have one. "Yep." The log delivered, they turned back to the woods, and Azaila cast a glance over his shoulder, his light old eyes full of affection. Chevenga was holding a double-weight axe, with both hands. "Good lahd, heart of crystal. Love him like my own child. His kind you got to keep in line." The old man skipped ahead, like a boy. "Tsere's more wood, Sova Far-Traveller! A few more pieces like tsaht ahn' we'll hahve done our share, I think." Sova followed, numb. He said nothing as they sawed the next log, and neither did she, her head bursting with thoughts, so many she hardly noticed the agony in her arms. Her old refrain rang over and over in her mind, cracked like a bell with doubt. She'd first learned it from her father:The strong eat the weak . And it was true, the one common thing she'd learned from both homes, that ran like a song in her head: "Pa hits Mooti, Mooti hits 'Talia, Franc and I hit Piatr,khyd-hird hitsme !" She'd learned it deeper and wider as she'd got older, found reason for her old questions. What had happened to her had nothing to do with fairness; it was only children who expected that, askhyd-hird kept saying. Her adopted mothers had just been better climbers and archers, that was all.So they kicked us good , and the world would now say that they were better people, the hardest kick. The strong wrote history, she'd learned that, too. She had another rhyme: "Arko kicks the rest of the world, one by one. But we gang up on Arko, and Arko's ass is done!" Yet by the same principle, no one should be able to kick Chevenga, least of all a skinny old man who said, "We small weak people," meaning himself as well as her, who'd let her call him by his name and speak freely. He's one of those legendary Yeoli masters who live up on mountains and can kill people with one finger and that kind of thing, she thought, as they rolled the next log to the splitting-place.He mustbe, teaching the semanakraseye.Should I… Why not? People probably ask him things like this all the time . "Azalia, sir," she'd said, as they rolled the fourth log. "I… I have to decide something. My khyd-hird says I could be a…" Out of modesty she chose against the word "great." "… a really good warrior." "Yep," he said casually. "She right."How does he know? He's never seen me spar… has he ? The thought was terrifying. "But I'm learning other things, as well, for other trades. I have to choose which to do. How do I decide?" She thought he'd think for a bit, but he just said, "Simple. Ahsk yourself two questions. One: does duty require it? Duty means, whaht's best for yourself ahn' tsose you love." She remembered what Shkai'ra had said, that there would be fighting in F'talezon. She wasn't sure she was going to stay there, though, when she grew up. "I… don't know."
Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html "Don't tell me, it's none ofmy business—think it out ahn' answer for yourself. Question two: do youlike doing it?" Stink and fear and pain and meanness; smooth clear motion, comrades as one, victory… She didn't know the answer to that one either. "Ahnswer tsose two questions, ahn' you will know," said Azaila. "Simple!" "Ya," she said bleakly. "Simple." Azaila just grinned. "You've never seen me pick up a blade," she said. It was starting to get dark, the work nearly done; she held down a pang of disappointment at the thought of saying good-bye to him. "How can you tell whether I'm any good?" "Naht so!" he said grinning. "I didso see you pick up a blade. Half of one, anyway." "Huh?" She blinked. "When?" He chuckled. "A riddle for you. A lesson. You figure." XVI Images and sensations drifted through the Ri's word-bereft but flicker-quick mind, inspired by his surroundings, his instincts, his hungers, happily ignorant of past and future, knowing onlynow , as he crept noiselessly towards the Arkan camp. Night dark, sniffwind, wind come to me, me. Lie down, downdown in bush. Night warm/safe/blackdark, mane-tailsilver on bushes. Sniffwind; small life all around. Fur-ryjumper, littlescurry, run, run, hide. Men; men, men, men, men, horses, horses. Blondprey. Tallowsmell, dead-cowsweat smell. Horses. Stallion, mares. Mareinheat, like-Rinotlike. Bare fangs. Clawsgrip, down hill, sneaksneak sneak. Menmeat. Bigherd, men, men. Blondprey infields alone. Stomp, stomp, loudclumsystupidhardfeet. Steepplace, flatplace, bush, bush. Redmaneherdmare-not here, nothere. Sadsadwhimpermoanhissss! Twoblond-preu. Rottengrapesmell. Loudnoise, ba-ba-ba peoplemouth-noise. "Fikken kaina marugh miniren, Kemmas where'd you get that wine?" "Fikken officer's baggage cart that turned over in the ditch today, where else? Celestialis's crapholes, we're still carrying their gear on our fikken backs, aren't we? Here, have some; no fikken barehanded okas-piss ration swill forthem . Or for us, tonight, ha ha ha." "Honest Laboring fikken God, that's good!" "Strong stuff. Dinare wine. Fikken sheephairs've got it now, fikken officers get us all killed and then the killer mountain boys ream our assholes anyway."
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people around for camouflage, and t
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Und now I vind dose two—Celestial
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Shadow's Son by Shirley Meier, S.M. Stirling and Karen Wehrstein ...

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