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.It's done enough, I'm getting rid of it."This caused a stir and a muttering around the circle.The faces of the gods, shadowed and hard for Mark to see, turned to one another in consultation.And now the voice of a different deity chided Mark:"It was time enough, in any case, for you to be leaving home.Do you want to be a mill-hand and a rabbit-hunter all your life?""Yes," said Mark immediately.But even as he gave the answer, he wondered if it were really true.Another god-voice argued at him: "The sword you have there has done hardly anything as yet, as measured by its capabilities.And anyway, who are you to judge such things?"Another voice chimed in: "Precisely.That sword was given to Jord the smith, later Jord the miller, until you, mortal, or your brother had it from him.It's yours now.But you cant just bring it back here and be rid of it that way.Oh, no.Even leaving aside the question of good manners, we-"And another: °-cant just take it back, now that it's been used.You can't bring a used gift back.""Gift?" That word brought Mark almost to midday wakefulness.It came near making him jump to his feet."'You say a gift? When you took my father's arm in payment for it?"An arm, long as a tree-limb, pointed."This one here is responsible for taking the arm.We didn't tell him to do that." And the towering figure standing besideVulcan (Mark hadnt recognized Vulcan till the instant he was pointed out) clapped the Smith on the back.It was a great rude slap that made Vulcan stagger on his game leg and snarl.Then the speaker, his own identity still obscure, went on: "Do you suppose, young mortal, that we went to all the trouble of having Clubfoot here make the swords, make all twelve of them for our game, never to see them properly used? They were a lot of trouble to have made."For a game.a game? In outrage Mark cried out:"I think I'm dreaming all of youl"None of the gods or goddesses in the circle thought that was worth an answer.Mark cried again: "What are you going to do about the sword? If I refuse to keep it?""None of your business," said one curt voice."I suppose wed give it to someone else.""And anyway, don't speak in that tone of voice to gods."Why shouldn't I speak any way I want to, I'm dreaming you anyway! And it is my business what-""Do you never dream of real persons, real things?"Smoke from the fire blew into Mark's face.He choked, and had to close his eyes.When he opened them again the circle of tall beings was still there, surrounding him."And, anyway, if we gods wish to play a game, who are you, mortal, to object?"That got a general murmur of approval.Mark was still outraged, but his energy was failing.His muscles seemed to be relaxing of themselves.He lay weakly back on rock Page 29ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlhalf-warmed by fire.Despite all he could do, his eyelids were sagging shut in utter weariness.He whispered: ' A game.?"A female voice, that of a goddess who had not spoken until now, argued softly:"I say that this Mark, this stubborn son of a stubborn miller, deserves to die tonight for what he s done, for the disrespect he's shown, the irresponsible interference.""A miller's son? A miller's son, you say?" That, for some reason, provoked laughter.' Ah, hahaaa!.anyway, he's protected here by the fire that he's kindled, using magical materials and tools.Not that he had the least idea of what he was doing when he did it.""What is so amusing? I still say that he must die tonight.He must.Otherwise I foresee trouble, in the game and out of it, trouble for us all.""Trouble for yourself, you mean."And another new voice: "Hah, if you say he must die, then I say he must live.Whatever your position is in this, I must maintain the opposite."They're just like people, Mark thought.His next thought was: I'm almost gone, I'm dying.Now the idea was not only acceptable, but brought with it a certain feeling of relief.During the rest of the night-his gentle dying went on for a long, long time-Mark kept revising-his opinion of the wrangling gang of gods who surrounded him on his deathbed.Sometimes it seemed to him that they were conducting their debate on a high level, using words of great wisdom.At these times he wanted to make every effort to remember what they said, but somehow he never could.At other times what they were, saying struck him as the most foolish babble that he had ever heard.But he could not manage to retain an example of their foolishness either.Anyway, he completely missed the end of the argument, because instead of dying he finally awoke to behold the whole vast reach of the sky turning lightabove the great bowl of rock that made the world.The near rim of the bowl was very near in the east, almost overhead, while the northwest portion of the rim was far, far away, no more than a little pinkish sawtooth line on the horizon.And to the southwest the rim was so distant that it could not be seen at all.Mark was shivering again, or shivering still, when he woke up.Now he was cold on both sides.The fire was nearly out, and he immediately started to rebuild it.Somewhat to his surprise, his body moved easily.For whatever reason, he had awakened with a feeling of achievement, a sense that something important had been accomplished while he lay before the fire.Well, for one thing, his life had been preserved, whether by accident or through the benevolence of certain gods.He was not at all sure of the reality of the presences he'd seen.There was no sign of gods around him now;nothing but the mountain and the sky, and the high, keening wind.Except for the obscure symbols on the wall of stone, and the remnants of that large and ancient fire.The need for food had now settled deep in Mark's bones, and he thought, with the beginning of fear, that soon he might be too weak to make his way back down the mountain.He had to implement his final decision about the sword before that happened; so as soon as.he had warmed himself enough to stop his shivering, he turned his back on his renewed fire and the old forge-place of the gods.Keeping the blanket wrapped around himself, he slung bow and quiver on his back again, and took up Townsaver.He carried the blade as if he meant to fight with it.Testing the wind, he tried to follow the smell of sulphur to where it was the strongest.It took him only a few moments to stumble right against what he was looking for, in the form of a chest-high broken column of black rock.The Page 30ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlmiddle of the broad black stump was holed out, as if it were a real treestump rotting, and up out of the central cavity there drifted acrid fumes, along with some faintly visible smoke [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]