Would she ever
reach that shadowy country, ever fulfil the quest that was hers from
the beginning? Did she not wrong that ghostly figure which seemed to
gaze with reproach across the years? Her own blood called, and she
turned aside to follow the way of a stranger, an alien whose kiss had
brought her all sorrow.
And yet she was helpless as the water flowing to the sea. The primal
quest must wait. Her being turned to this younger man as the needle to
the pole, even though his words were false, his kiss a betrayal.
When the mid hour hung in silence over the wilderness a figure came out
of the darkness and stood at the gate beside that watcher, Cif Bordoux,
who paced its length with noiseless tread.
A strange figure it was, clad in garments that shone misty white in the
shadow, whose fringes .fluttered in the warm wind and whose glowing
plastron glittered in the starlight.
"Cif Bordoux," said the figure, "I would go without."
Wondering and startled, Bordoux would have refused if he dared; but
this was the leader of the Long Trail and her word had been his law for
many moons, nor had he ever questioned her wisdom.
Therefore he drew the bolts and opened the gate the width of a man's
body, and Maren Le Moyne slipped outside the palisade into the night.
Pages:
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181