Io
A Thief and His Sister
AITUATEA SHIFTED the bend in his legs to ease his aching
hip， careful as he moved to keep the bales piled under
him from squeaking， the bales of raw unwashed fleeces
that were a stench in his nostrils but sheltered him from
noses and teeth of the patrollers ratheunds. He raised his
head a little and stared at the curls of mist drifting across
the calm black water of the bay， A wandering breeze
licked at his face， tugged at his slicked-back hair， carried
past his ears just enough sound to underline the silence
and peace of the night. \"This is a bust，\" he whispered to
the one who stood at his shoulder. \"She won t come.
\" The man on the mountain said . ， \" His sister s voice
was the crackling of ice crystals shattering. \"Look there，\"
She pointed past the huddling godons beyond the wharves，
their rambling forms lit from behind by torches burning
before the all-night winestalls， the joyhouses， the cookshops
of the water quarter. The Wounded Moon was rising at
last， a broken round of curdled milk behind the spiky roof
of the Temple. She swung round an arm colorless and
transparent as glass， outlined with shimmers like crystal
against black velvet and pointed across the harbor. \"And
there，\" she said. She was all over crystal， even the rags
she wore. \" Out beyond the Woda-an. A blind ship from
Phras， dropping anchor， \"
|
内容加载中，请稍后...
商品评论（0条）