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.“As if you did notknow me at all!”Wayne set down his mug, still staring.“I don’t.”The brown-beard roared to his feet.“You don’t know me! ME!”He whirled wrathfully toward the kitchens.“Elmi! My robe!”The old woman had been drowsing, head bent to her prodigiousbosoms, by the kitchen door.She blinked up, then snapped herfingers into the hallway; moments later her daughter floated inamong the folds of a magnificent garment of finespun goat’s hair.Itwas dyed a brilliant blue and figured everywhere with cabalisticpatterns made from purest silver.They were like panoramicconstellations; Wayne thought while the brown-beard permittedElmi and her daughter to assist him into the robe that if he allowedhis eyes to follow the patterns those silver stars made somethingwould happen to him, something wildly wondrous.Now, with the dignity of a star-king, he faced Wayne.“Youknow me—now?” he thundered.“Only that I saw you first in an Astro dive, playing some kind ofharp—”“My kantele.Jo.But what is this dive?”Wayne made an effort to explain.“You told me I must followyou, then you vanished.Later, in your copper boat—”“Boat? Boat?” The blue eyes sparked sun-fire.“Ah! I havepondered me on the idea of one day roving the stars and—a copperboat with Otava-rainbow oars, you say?“While he paced he stroked his dark beard.“Yet,” he rumbledpresently, “you have the impudence to pretend not to know who itwas called you down from behind our lost sun?”Wayne managed an apologetic grin.From behind them came ablast of wind when the door was flung open and shut, then a slyboyish chuckle.Turning, Wayne saw that two equally extraordinary figures hadburst in on them out of the storm.His eyes took in first the chuckler.He was young, quite young, dapper in skin-dose fawnhide.Hisshoulders were wide almost to the point of abnormality, his waist,under a wide serpent’s skin belt, flat and narrow.His face was ayoung god’s, bronzed perfection, and the golden curls that caughtthe oil-lamps’ light were carelessly long, so that they splashedsunlight over his flat-to-head ears and his wide forehead.His blueeyes were merry with devil-care; his wide passionate mouth alivewith good humor.With a dancing swash he moved, somewhat theatrically onemight say, into the brighter light; he whipped around the harpstrung on his back and gave Wayne a wink while he sang:“Know you not our greatest wizard? He who charms the moonto dancing? He who bested Iko-Turso? He who fought the giantVipunen? Who alone returned from Tuonela? Know you not ourWainomoinen?”“Silence, Lemminkainen.” But the robed wizard was unable tohold onto his scowl and smiled wide before he laughed to ring therafters.”As you can see, this no-beard youth fancies himself aminstrel.When he is not seeking a sword fight he is making upsongs for the maidens.He imagines that his crow’s throat mighteven one day equal my own mellifluous song-magic.“The golden youth, Lemminkainen, grimaced and twanged a rawchord on the strings of his kantele.“The hundred maidens of Saaridid not complain of my ‘crow’s throat’ when I sang to them ontheir island!”“That was because you were the only singer they had everheard.”“Jo.And the only man.Nor did they complain of aught else whenI made my rounds.” Memories of those darkless midsummer nightsbrought back his lusty good humor.“Another time, after I had slainthe serpents of Syojatar and lopped off the head of Pohjola’s Masterin fair fight, escaping by the hair on my teeth from the hundredwarriors of the Black Crone—”“A little less bragging would suit me well,” said the secondnewcomer.His voice was low-pitched, its intent somberlypurposeful rather than scornful.When he stepped forward, Wayne took him in, from the blackboots pooling melted ice onto the pine slabs, up the long dark-cladshanks, the black pukko belt, the near-black jerkin opened at thethroat and showing a burnt umber V of strong throat and a largeAdam’s apple, to the fierce red beard like fine spun bronze.His facewas long, gaunt, haggard almost, except that the indomitablevaliance and heroic poise of head and sharpness of deepset eye wellmatched the others.“Well spoken, friend Ilmarinen of the Magic Forge!”Wainomoinen gave his ceremonial wizard’s robe a toss and flashedthe golden-haired Lemminkainen a look so thunder-browed that itwould have floored a lesser man.As for Lemminkainen, theBeautiful, he merely grinned.“I meant only to instruct our young visitor.There are manythings he must know if he is to be of any help.”“Nün,” Wainomoinen nodded.“There is much to be said beforewe seek our rest in the chambers of Utamo.” He beckoned them allback to the master’s table.“We may as well drink and becomfortable about it.Standing here weeping like women will notbring back that which is lost.”Even grim Ilmarinen of the copper beard permitted a small smileto leak out when the wizard raised his kallia mug for the toast ofcomradeship to outlast the stars.Lemminkainen stroked his kantele as if it were one of hisinnumerable conquests while he sang:“ ‘Dearest friends and much-loved brothers, Best beloved of allcompanions, Come and let us drink together, Since at length wemeet together From two widely sundered regions.’ ”Wayne sipped, thinking that these three strangely familiar men ofheroic cast could scarcely dream how “widely sundered” the regionswere…VI« ^ »And so it was, while the wind-demon howled and pounded at thelog walls of the village of the Vanhat, Wayne Panu—whose destinyhad been to serve the Terran Fleet in its latter day matrix ofAll-Kill—listened with mounting wonder to the incredible tale of theStolen Sun…“Nün.” Wainomoinen put down his empty mug with a crash,then wiped the foam off his moustaches with a dainty movementthat ill-matched the lightning in his eyes and the thunder in hisscowl.“The Hag of Pohyola has always hated the Vanhat, and thedecades and centuries have only served to whet her perverted desiresfor vengeance.”“Why? Why does she hate you?”Wainomoinen’s shrug was to cast off an incubus weight from hisbroad shoulders.“Many reasons: The Sampo Ilmarinen forged forher.The Star Mill of endless resource.We stole it back from thegreedy, devious crone out of famine and great need, and in the greatsea battle that ensued the Sampo was shattered into small pieces [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]