"Sheri S. Tepper - Jinian Footseer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Tepper Sherri)

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This is a work of fiction. AH the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional, and
any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.
FOREWORD

JINIAN FOOTSEER
A CORGI BOOK 0 552 13189 X
First publication in Great Britain
PRINTING HISTORY
Corgi edition published 1988
Copyright © 1985 by Sheri S. Tepper This book is set in 10/llpt Palatino

Corgi Books are published by Transworld Publishers Ltd., 61-63 Uxbridge Road, Eaiing, London W5
5SA, in Australia by Transworid Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd., 15-23 Helles Avenue, Moorebank,
NSW 2170, and in New Zealand by Transworld Publishers (N.Z.) Ltd., Cnr. Moselle and Waipareira
Avenues, Henderson, Auckland.

Reproduced, printed and bound in Great Britain by
Hazell Watson & Vmey Limited
Member of BPCC plc
Aylesbury Bucks

FOREWORD
I began to write this account upon the Wastes of Bleer, by firelight as others slept, sure I would
die upon the morning. I was there because of love, and my own youthful foolhardiness. Even now,
thinking back on it, I would not have wanted to be anywhere else.
I had come to that place with Peter - and with Silkhands and King Kelver of the Dragon's Fire
Demesne, with Chance and Vitior Vulpas Queynt. Six of us. Upon that barren height Peter had raised
up the Gamesmen of Barish - he had carried them in his pocket for several years - embodying them
once more in their own flesh. Eleven of them, plus Barish himself. We were eighteen.
And against us was coming a horde, a multitude, a vast army of living and dead, live flesh and
dead bone, which none among us thought we could withstand. Seeing our fear, Queen Trandilar had
beguiled us with tales of glory so that our apprehension was allayed. All had fallen asleep except
me.
It wasn't my battle. I had not sought it except that I had sought Peter, determined to be with him
no matter what should come. It would be fair to say I didn't care much about the battle. Huld, the
monster, WHS nothing to me. I had not been harassed and tortured by him as Peter had. Hell's Maw
was nothing In me. I had not seen it. I was sixteen and in love and ibout to die. The one I loved
was asleep, snoring gently, his face like a child's in the dim light of the fire. So - I Took pen
and paper and began to write, thinking perhaps that someone might find the pages, long Afterward,
and remember me for a moment. A tenuous
5

kind of immortality, but the best I could hope for then.
No.
That is not entirely true.
There was more to it than that. I know the story of my life up until then was no stirring account
of battles and quests as Peter's was. I had not sought adventure; I had merely fallen into
adventure of a dirty, laborious kind with little glory in it. Still, when my labor was done and my