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ghost walking along the
Pilgrim Road, and who knew how long ago that scene was flaked?
 This is not working. I could sit here till this body rots and still not pick
her out of that mess. Hm. If this was one of Autumn Rose s games, she d
finesse. Force a move.
The broadcast tower.
She stared at it.
A song. Maybe a song cycle. Cover all bets. Shop it round the coastal cities,
get them to play it., send the call out as far as it ll go. Wear one of those
Brother robes with the cowls. Antiwar songs. One of them talking to Yseyl. She
must be getting frustrated about now, trying to find a way to use
the disruptor. Hm. She was stalking and killing arms dealers before she went
off with Cerex. Bloody little creature, more than a bit crazy, killing to stop
killing.
She must have cached the disruptor before she came into Linojin. She certainly
didn t have it with her in that scene where she was walking barefoot on the
Pilgrim Road. Well, it s what I d do. And it means I
have to get my hands on her if I want that thing back. Hm. She can be talked
into things. Cerex did it, I
have to figure out how I ... hm ... maybe ... nice if I can combine the two
things ... warn the Cobben s targets and set my trap ....
She gathered herself and went back to her camouflaged camp as the first
raindrops began pounding down.
3. Radio show
 Who are you?
 You don t need to know that. Which one of you s the technician?
:It -was a small room, filled with unlikely looking gad-getry, clumsy
stuff she could just barely recognize from experiences in her first life.
The lighting was harsh, pro-vided by two bare bulbs in ceiling sockets. One of
the turntables had a reddish-brown disk on it with an arm moving across it.
She could hear a faint hiss but no other sound. One mal sat before the
turntable, an earphone har-ness on his head, the other stood with his back
against the wall, clutching a cup of congealing tea. Both of them kept
glancing at the pellet rifle in her hand, then looking away.
 Why? It was the seated mal who spoke. He shoved a phone off his ear and
swiveled his chair about till he was facing her, using his body to cover the
subtle move of his hand toward the standard of a microphone.
 Don t opt for dead hero, mal. Put both hands flat on your thighs. She waited
until he complied.
 Why? I want you to record some songs for me.
 Huh?
She could feel the surge of curiosity that almost over-came his fear.  That s
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a studio on the far side of that win-dow, right?
 Right. What kind of songs?
 Laments, my friend. Hohekil songs. She glanced at the disk revolving slowly
on the turntable. The business end of the pickup had progressed very little
since she d walked in.  You ve got about an hour
there, haven t you.
She felt his annoyance. He wanted to lie, but he didn t quite dare. Not yet.
 Just about, he said.
 Should be plenty of time. Besides, it s way past mid-night. I doubt you ll
get many complaints about a bit of dead air. What s your name?
 Kushay.
 And yours?
 Habbel. His voice was sullen. He was considerably younger than the
other mal, an apprentice perhaps.  All right, Kushay and Habbel, I want you
to listen carefully. I don t intend harm, but I do mean to sing my songs for
people to listen to, even if only the few who are out of bed tonight.
 You re not Impix or Pixa. Why are you doing this?
 Say that I m moon mad, inn?
 What makes you think we won t shave the master once you ve gone?
She laughed.  I trust my gift, Kushay. You won t want to throw them away. I ll
give you a sample.
She repeated a few of the vocalizations she d gone through before coming here
and when she felt easy, she said,  The first song is called Thela Mal.
 We dance at the jerk of puppet strings worked by feathered Ptakkan fingers,
(her voice sobbed over fingers, putting anguish and anger in the syllables,
then dropped to a hush for the next line)
playing out our games of war for the watchers ghastly pleasure.
(pleasure was soft and drawn out, controlled fury)
Oh, the joy that killing brings!
The joy the joy that killing brings ...
(the sibilant at the end of brings hissed then softened, melting into the next
line)
But the thrill so briefly lingers
Our burning blood cries out for more.
Let us be lavish with our gore
Fill the Ptakkan purse with treasure
Inflame the watchers endless leisure
Kill until Pix and Imp are gone
And this song s forever done.
As he understood the nature of the song and her voice crept under his skin,
Kushay shivered. When
Shadith was finished and Habbel started to speak, he raised a hand to stop
him.  You said songs. His voice was hoarse.  Like that?
 Yes. Like that. And the profit s all yours. Moon mad, remember? All I want is
for those songs to be heard as widely as possible.
 Habbel, take her into the studio. Help her get set up. I ll run the board.
 Kush, Brother Umbula won t like ....
 Listen to me, Hab. You have any idea how much Icisel or Gajul and the rest
will pay for a voice like that? And we don t say word one she isn t Impix or
Pixa, you hear me?
 ... and this song is called  Children of War.
 Child of the hill, Child of the city, why do you kill, with absence of pity?
Blood taints the land
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till only weeds grow and the only one pleased is the carrion crow.
Your children demand food you can t find.
The farmer who tills is smoke on the wind.
Friend murders friend and families decay.
Child of the city, Child of the hill, with half of us fled and the other half
dead, who will repay the blood that you spill?
When she d finished the other two songs, she turned to face the window.
 That s done. Put on another master, please. I have an announcement I think
you ll need to re-cord and pass on. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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