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Résumé
Extrait One She sat alone in her chambers, draped in twilight's shadows and evening's solitude, her thoughts darker than the night descending and heavier than the weight of all Paranor. She retired early these days, ostensibly to work but mostly to think, to ponder on the disappointment of today's failures and the bleakness of tomorrow's prospects. It was silent in the high tower, and the silence gave her a momentary respite from the struggle between herself and those she would lead. It lasted briefly, only so long as she remained secluded, but without its small daily comfort she sometimes thought she would have gone mad with despair.She was no longer a girl, no longer even young, though sheretained her youthful looks, her pale translucent skin still unblemishedand unlined, her startling blue eyes clear, and her movementssteady and certain. When she looked in the mirror, whichshe did infrequently now as then, she saw the girl she had beentwenty years earlier, as if aging had been miraculously stayed. Butwhile her body stayed young, her spirit grew old. Responsibilityaged her more quickly than time. Only the Druid Sleep, shouldshe avail herself of it, would stay the wearing of her heart, and shewould not choose that remedy anytime soon. She could not. Shewas the Ard Rhys of the Third Druid Council, the High Druid ofParanor, and while she remained in that office, sleep of any kindwas in short supply.Her gaze drifted to the windows of her chamber, looking westto where the sun was already gone behind the horizon, and thelight it cast skyward in the wake of its descent a dim glow beginningto fail. She thought her own star was setting, as well, itslight fading, its time passing, its chances slipping away. She wouldchange that if she could, but she no longer believed she knewthe way.She heard Tagwen before she saw him, his footfalls light andcautious in the hallway beyond her open door, his concern for herevident in the softness of his approach."Come, Tagwen," she called as he neared.He came through the door and stopped just inside, not presumingto venture farther, respecting this place that was hers andhers alone. He was growing old, as well, nearly twenty years ofservice behind him, the only assistant she had ever had, his time atParanor a mirror of her own. His stocky, gnarled body was stillstrong, but his movements were slowing and she could see the wayhe winced when his joints tightened and cramped after too muchuse. There was kindness in his eyes, and it had drawn her to himfrom the first, an indication of the nature of the man inside. Tagwenserved because he respected what she was doing, what shemeant to the Four Lands, and he never judged her by her successesor failures, even when there were so many more of the latter thanthe former."Mistress," he said in his rough, gravel-laced voice, his seamed,bearded face dipping momentarily into shadow as he bowed. Itwas an odd, stiff gesture he had affected from the beginning. Heleaned forward as if to share a confidence that others might try tooverhear. "Kermadec is here."She rose at once. "He will not come inside," she said, making ita statement of fact.Tagwen shook his head. "He waits at the north gate and asks ifyou will speak with him." The Dwarf's lips tightened in somber re-flection. "He says it is urgent."She reached for her cloak and threw it about her shoulders.She went by him, touching his shoulder reassuringly as shepassed. She went out the door and down the hallway to begin herdescent. Within the stairwell, beyond the sound of her own softfootfalls, she heard voices rise up from below, the sounds of conversationsadrift on the air. She tried to make out what they said,but could not. They would be speaking of her; they did so almostincessantly. They would be asking why she continued as theirleader, why she presumed that she could achieve anything after somany failures, why she could not recognize that her time was pastand another should take her place. Some would be whispering thatshe ought to be forced out, one way or another. Some would beadvocating stronger action.Druid intrigues. The halls of Paranor were rife with them, andshe could not put a stop to it. At Walker's command, she hadformed this Third Council on her return to the Four Lands fromParkasia. She had accepted her role as leader, her destiny as guideto those she had recruited, her responsibility for rebuilding thelegacy of the Druids as knowledge givers to the Races. She hadformed the heart of this new order with those few sent underduress by the Elven King Kylen Elessedil at his brother Ahren'sinsistence. Others had come from other lands and other Races,drawn by the prospect of exploring magic's uses. That had beentwenty years ago, when there was fresh hope and everythingseemed possible. Time and an inability to effect any measurablechange in the thinking and attitudes of the governing bodies ofthose lands and Races had leeched most of that away. What remainedwas a desperate insistence on clinging to her belief thatshe was not meant to give up.But that alone was not enough. It would never be enough. Notfor someone who had come out of darkness so complete thatany chance at redemption had seemed hopeless. Not for GrianneOhmsford, who had once been the Ilse Witch and had made herselfArd Rhys to atone for it.She reached the lower levels of the Keep, the great halls thatconnected the meeting rooms with the living quarters of those shehad brought to Paranor. A handful of these Druids came into view,shadows sliding along the walls like spilled oil in the light of theflameless lamps that lit the corridors. Some nodded to her; one ortwo spoke. Most simply cast hurried glances and passed on. Theyfeared and mistrusted her, these Druids she had accepted into herorder. They could not seem to help themselves, and she could notfind the heart to blame them.Terek Molt walked out of a room and grunted his unfriendlygreeting, outwardly bold and challenging. But she could sense hisreal feelings, and she knew he feared her. Hated her more thanfeared her, though. It was the same with Traunt Rowan and IridiaEleri and one or two more. Shadea a'Ru was beyond even that, hervenomous glances so openly hostile that there was no longer anycommunication between them, a situation that it seemed nothingcould help.Grianne closed her eyes against what she was feeling and wonderedwhat she was going to do about these vipers--what shecould do that would not have repercussions beyond anything shewas prepared to accept.Young Trefen Morys passed her with a wave and a smile, hisface guileless and welcoming, his enthusiasm evident. He was abright light in an otherwise darkened firmament, and she wasgrateful for his presence. Some within the order still believed in her.She had never expected friendship or even compassion from thosewho came to her, but she had hoped for loyalty and a sense of responsibilitytoward the office she held. She had been foolish to thinkthat way, and she no longer did so. Perhaps it was not inaccurate tosay that now she merely hoped that reason might prevail."Mistress," Gerand Cera greeted in his soft voice as he bowedher past him, his tall form lean and sinuous, his angular featuressleepy and dangerous.There were too many of them. She could not watch out for allof them adequately. She put herself at risk every time she walkedthese halls--here in the one place she should be safe, in the ordershe had founded. It was insane.She cleared the front hall and went out into the night, passedthrough a series of interconnected courtyards to the north gates,and ordered the guard to let her through. The Trolls on watch, impassiveand silent, did as they were told. She did not know theirnames, only that they were there at Kermadec's behest, which wasenough to keep her reassured of their loyalty. Whatever else happenedin this steadily eroding company of the once faithful, theTrolls would stand with her.Would that prove necessary She would not have thought so amonth ago. That she asked the question now demonstrated howuncertain matters had become.She walked to the edge of the bluff, to the wall of trees thatmarked the beginning of the forest beyond, and stopped. An owlglided through the darkness, a silent hunter. She felt a sudden connectionwith him so strong that she could almost envision flyingaway as he did, leaving everything behind, returning to the darknessand its solitude.She brushed the thought aside, an indulgence she could notafford, and whistled softly. Moments later, a figure detached itselffrom the darkness almost in front of her and came forward."Mistress," the Maturen greeted, dropping to one knee andbowing deeply."Kermadec, you great bear," she replied, stepping forward toput her arms around him. "How good it is to see you."Of the few friends she possessed, Kermadec was perhaps thebest. She had known him since the founding of the order, whenshe had gone into the Northland to ask for the support of theTroll tribes. No one had ever thought to do that, and her requestwas cause enough for a convening of a council of the nations. Shedid not waste the opportunity she had been given. She told themof her mission, of her role as Ard Rhys of a new Druid Council, thethird since Galaphile's time. She declared that this new orderwould accept members from all nations, the Trolls included. Noprejudices would be allowed; the past would play no part in thepresent.... --Ce texte fait r?f?rence ? l'?dition ie=UTF8&n=301061 class=product>Poche. ;i:1;s:34
Extrait One She sat alone in her chambers, draped in twilight's shadows and evening's solitude, her thoughts darker than the night descending and heavier than the weight of all Paranor. She retired early these days, ostensibly to work but mostly to think, to ponder on the disappointment of today's failures and the bleakness of tomorrow's prospects. It was silent in the high tower, and the silence gave her a momentary respite from the struggle between herself and those she would lead. It lasted briefly, only so long as she remained secluded, but without its small daily comfort she sometimes thought she would have gone mad with despair.She was no longer a girl, no longer even young, though sheretained her youthful looks, her pale translucent skin still unblemishedand unlined, her startling blue eyes clear, and her movementssteady and certain. When she looked in the mirror, whichshe did infrequently now as then, she saw the girl she had beentwenty years earlier, as if aging had been miraculously stayed. Butwhile her body stayed young, her spirit grew old. Responsibilityaged her more quickly than time. Only the Druid Sleep, shouldshe avail herself of it, would stay the wearing of her heart, and shewould not choose that remedy anytime soon. She could not. Shewas the Ard Rhys of the Third Druid Council, the High Druid ofParanor, and while she remained in that office, sleep of any kindwas in short supply.Her gaze drifted to the windows of her chamber, looking westto where the sun was already gone behind the horizon, and thelight it cast skyward in the wake of its descent a dim glow beginningto fail. She thought her own star was setting, as well, itslight fading, its time passing, its chances slipping away. She wouldchange that if she could, but she no longer believed she knewthe way.She heard Tagwen before she saw him, his footfalls light andcautious in the hallway beyond her open door, his concern for herevident in the softness of his approach."Come, Tagwen," she called as he neared.He came through the door and stopped just inside, not presumingto venture farther, respecting this place that was hers andhers alone. He was growing old, as well, nearly twenty years ofservice behind him, the only assistant she had ever had, his time atParanor a mirror of her own. His stocky, gnarled body was stillstrong, but his movements were slowing and she could see the wayhe winced when his joints tightened and cramped after too muchuse. There was kindness in his eyes, and it had drawn her to himfrom the first, an indication of the nature of the man inside. Tagwenserved because he respected what she was doing, what shemeant to the Four Lands, and he never judged her by her successesor failures, even when there were so many more of the latter thanthe former."Mistress," he said in his rough, gravel-laced voice, his seamed,bearded face dipping momentarily into shadow as he bowed. Itwas an odd, stiff gesture he had affected from the beginning. Heleaned forward as if to share a confidence that others might try tooverhear. "Kermadec is here."She rose at once. "He will not come inside," she said, making ita statement of fact.Tagwen shook his head. "He waits at the north gate and asks ifyou will speak with him." The Dwarf's lips tightened in somber re-flection. "He says it is urgent."She reached for her cloak and threw it about her shoulders.She went by him, touching his shoulder reassuringly as shepassed. She went out the door and down the hallway to begin herdescent. Within the stairwell, beyond the sound of her own softfootfalls, she heard voices rise up from below, the sounds of conversationsadrift on the air. She tried to make out what they said,but could not. They would be speaking of her; they did so almostincessantly. They would be asking why she continued as theirleader, why she presumed that she could achieve anything after somany failures, why she could not recognize that her time was pastand another should take her place. Some would be whispering thatshe ought to be forced out, one way or another. Some would beadvocating stronger action.Druid intrigues. The halls of Paranor were rife with them, andshe could not put a stop to it. At Walker's command, she hadformed this Third Council on her return to the Four Lands fromParkasia. She had accepted her role as leader, her destiny as guideto those she had recruited, her responsibility for rebuilding thelegacy of the Druids as knowledge givers to the Races. She hadformed the heart of this new order with those few sent underduress by the Elven King Kylen Elessedil at his brother Ahren'sinsistence. Others had come from other lands and other Races,drawn by the prospect of exploring magic's uses. That had beentwenty years ago, when there was fresh hope and everythingseemed possible. Time and an inability to effect any measurablechange in the thinking and attitudes of the governing bodies ofthose lands and Races had leeched most of that away. What remainedwas a desperate insistence on clinging to her belief thatshe was not meant to give up.But that alone was not enough. It would never be enough. Notfor someone who had come out of darkness so complete thatany chance at redemption had seemed hopeless. Not for GrianneOhmsford, who had once been the Ilse Witch and had made herselfArd Rhys to atone for it.She reached the lower levels of the Keep, the great halls thatconnected the meeting rooms with the living quarters of those shehad brought to Paranor. A handful of these Druids came into view,shadows sliding along the walls like spilled oil in the light of theflameless lamps that lit the corridors. Some nodded to her; one ortwo spoke. Most simply cast hurried glances and passed on. Theyfeared and mistrusted her, these Druids she had accepted into herorder. They could not seem to help themselves, and she could notfind the heart to blame them.Terek Molt walked out of a room and grunted his unfriendlygreeting, outwardly bold and challenging. But she could sense hisreal feelings, and she knew he feared her. Hated her more thanfeared her, though. It was the same with Traunt Rowan and IridiaEleri and one or two more. Shadea a'Ru was beyond even that, hervenomous glances so openly hostile that there was no longer anycommunication between them, a situation that it seemed nothingcould help.Grianne closed her eyes against what she was feeling and wonderedwhat she was going to do about these vipers--what shecould do that would not have repercussions beyond anything shewas prepared to accept.Young Trefen Morys passed her with a wave and a smile, hisface guileless and welcoming, his enthusiasm evident. He was abright light in an otherwise darkened firmament, and she wasgrateful for his presence. Some within the order still believed in her.She had never expected friendship or even compassion from thosewho came to her, but she had hoped for loyalty and a sense of responsibilitytoward the office she held. She had been foolish to thinkthat way, and she no longer did so. Perhaps it was not inaccurate tosay that now she merely hoped that reason might prevail."Mistress," Gerand Cera greeted in his soft voice as he bowedher past him, his tall form lean and sinuous, his angular featuressleepy and dangerous.There were too many of them. She could not watch out for allof them adequately. She put herself at risk every time she walkedthese halls--here in the one place she should be safe, in the ordershe had founded. It was insane.She cleared the front hall and went out into the night, passedthrough a series of interconnected courtyards to the north gates,and ordered the guard to let her through. The Trolls on watch, impassiveand silent, did as they were told. She did not know theirnames, only that they were there at Kermadec's behest, which wasenough to keep her reassured of their loyalty. Whatever else happenedin this steadily eroding company of the once faithful, theTrolls would stand with her.Would that prove necessary She would not have thought so amonth ago. That she asked the question now demonstrated howuncertain matters had become.She walked to the edge of the bluff, to the wall of trees thatmarked the beginning of the forest beyond, and stopped. An owlglided through the darkness, a silent hunter. She felt a sudden connectionwith him so strong that she could almost envision flyingaway as he did, leaving everything behind, returning to the darknessand its solitude.She brushed the thought aside, an indulgence she could notafford, and whistled softly. Moments later, a figure detached itselffrom the darkness almost in front of her and came forward."Mistress," the Maturen greeted, dropping to one knee andbowing deeply."Kermadec, you great bear," she replied, stepping forward toput her arms around him. "How good it is to see you."Of the few friends she possessed, Kermadec was perhaps thebest. She had known him since the founding of the order, whenshe had gone into the Northland to ask for the support of theTroll tribes. No one had ever thought to do that, and her requestwas cause enough for a convening of a council of the nations. Shedid not waste the opportunity she had been given. She told themof her mission, of her role as Ard Rhys of a new Druid Council, thethird since Galaphile's time. She declared that this new orderwould accept members from all nations, the Trolls included. Noprejudices would be allowed; the past would play no part in thepresent.... --Ce texte fait r?f?rence ? l'?dition ie=UTF8&n=301061 class=product>Poche. ;i:1;s:34
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