The cursed towers 271
Bạn đang xem bản rút gọn của tài liệu. Xem và tải ngay bản đầy đủ của tài liệu tại đây (3.06 KB, 1 trang )
had it once, they want it back. Add this to the very strong kinship they feel for their own kind . . . Well,
the fact is, they will only accept your lives in return for the lives o' their dead kin." He hesitated then
turned to Meghan. "Ye in particular. They are greedy for your life. It has been very long and very
interesting. They will no' give up the chance to taste it. Besides, ye have been responsible for the deaths
o' many nymphs. They hate ye and are fascinated by ye, and that is a potent combination. I do no' think
the offer o' swampland is enough."
"I see," the sorceress said, getting to her feet. "I suppose I should think o' it as a compliment. Are they
merely trying to bargain for more concessions or are they adamant?"
Iain shrugged. "Who can tell? They are enigmatic creatures. And very dangerous. Mesmerdean never
forgive and never forget. I have known o' vendettas that have been carried on for centuries."
"I see," Meghan said again. "Well, let me think on it. I think I have a solution but it is one that needs
careful thought." She began to pace the clearing, her forehead furrowed, her mouth grim. The little
donbeag nestled under her ear, chittering in agitation. Meghan stroked him in reassurance, though her
expression only became bleaker.
The others watched her unhappily, Iseult frowning. "What does she mean to do?" she asked Gwilym
uneasily.
He shrugged. "I can think o' no solution," he said harshly. "The Mesmerdean are vengeful creatures and
care little for things that may sway men, like land or gold or beautiful women. I canna think what she
means to offer them."
Meghan beckoned to Iain and he went over to her, his face troubled. Iseult watched him shake his head,
watched Meghan speak low and compellingly, saw the prionnsa shake his head again. Meghan grasped
his doublet in both her hands and spoke to him earnestly. Again Iain shook his head, his face miserable.
At last he gave a gesture of resignation and nodded his head. She pointed her finger at him forcefully and
he lowered his eyes and nodded again.
"What does she mean to do?" Iseult asked again, feeling her heart sink in her breast. Gwilym said
nothing, though she saw by his face that he feared as she did. Iseult clenched her hands, feeling rather
sick. She ran to Meghan's side, grasping her by the arm. Even through her agitation, Iseult was shocked
by how thin the old sorceress's arm was.
"Auld mother!" she cried. "What is it that ye mean to do? Ye canna mean to . . ." Her voice faltered.
Meghan covered Iseult's hand with her own, gnarled, liver-spotted and knotted with veins. She nodded.
"Yes, o' course I do," she answered. "Can ye think o' any other way? We have no' fought so hard for so
long to die here in this swamp. I am very auld and I am tired. Ye are young and your lives stretch before
ye."
Iseult was astonished to find she was weeping. Scarred Warriors never wept. She said fiercely, "No!"
"I am four hundred and thirty years auld," the sorceress said gently. "I should have died long ago. If I had
no' tasted o' the waters o' the Pool o' Two Moons when my father wrought the Lodestar, so many years
ago, I would be dead. We all must die some time. I am luckier than most because I can choose the time
and manner o' my dying. They say to die in the Mesmerd's arms is to die in bliss."
"No," Iseult wept. "Ye canna! We can fight them, we can kill them all. If there are no Mesmerdean left,
there will be none to carry on this stupid vendetta. We will wipe them off the face o' the earth!"
