The Turquoise Queen by Pedro Urvi (animal farm read TXT) 📕

the way I like it, Lasgol transmitted to Camu, who as usual heeded him just as much as he needed to, which was to say hardly at all.

Lasgol went back to his thoughts about Astrid, wondering when he would see her again. It was complicated enough to coincide with any of his Snow Panther friends, but even more so with Astrid and Viggo. The Specialty they had chosen meant that they moved secretly and never communicated their position to anybody. He cursed the day when Astrid had decided to become an Assassin of Nature. Now their paths barely crossed, and when they did it was only for a moment and often in highly dangerous situations, as at the Olafstone castle during the battle for Estocos. So, although he knew it was useless, he complained to the gods about his bad luck. Not only did he always find himself in the middle of the most terrible entanglements, but the one thing his heart desired, Astrid, was also denied to him.

“What miserable luck!” he grumbled as he stared up at the sky.

He resigned himself. Complaining was pointless, and in any case, it was not his style. He would keep going and find a way to be with Astrid again. It might not be right away, but he was confident that between the two of them, they would find a way of being together and going on with their love in spite of adverse circumstances. He longed to see her soon, and her memory brightened his spirit. Yes, they would come through.

He led Trotter along a byway around the city of Uriston. This was an important metropolis and he preferred to avoid it, even though the main road went through it. It was better to go unnoticed. They avoided meeting people, but followed paths that did not take them too far off the route. Little by little he was getting to know the regions of Norghana better, and often he did not need a map to find his direction, even though he carried a couple of very complete ones – made by Rangers – which were very useful since they marked paths which many people did not even know existed.

They stopped for a short break beside a river. Trotter would be grateful, and they could all have something to eat and relax a little. It was good to shake off the dust of the road every once in a while and get one’s energy back. He took care of Trotter, then fed Camu and Ona from the supplies he carried and finally had something to eat himself, sitting on a fallen tree by the water. By the time he had finished eating, Camu and Ona had gone off to play, or else get involved in some mischief.

Where are you?

Pond, he received from Camu.

Where’s that?

East.

Lasgol followed the river to the east, and in due course found a small pond where the two friends were playing.

What on earth are you two doing?

Hunting ducks, was the reply.

What was worse, they were not lying. Lasgol saw the two of them chasing a flock of ducks in the pond, who were startled into flight. The two friends followed them through the clearing.

Lasgol shook his head, unable to believe what he was seeing. He did not even try to tell them off. Better if they learnt for themselves. He crouched, and stared at the undulations on the surface of the water as they slowly receded, until they vanished to leave only a flat, calm surface. He waited until the water was completely still and saw his own reflection. He wondered whether he really looked like his mother, as Martha had told him. He could not decide whether the resemblance was more to his mother or to his father.

Thinking about his parents brought bittersweet feelings. He missed them so much. He remembered that he had one way of seeing them, of sharing their past experiences, and reached under his tunic for his mother’s pendant, the Marker of Experiences. He had not used it for some time, and he felt an urge to do so now. He would try to produce a vision. He crossed his fingers for a moment, then put his finger in his eye to produce a tear, which he let fall on the jewel.

A blue flash coming from the pendant bathed him, which was a very good sign. His gaze turned to his two friends, and he saw them disappear behind some trees in pursuit of the ducks. He was almost grateful, knowing that neither of them were very fond of the magic of his mother’s pendant. Not that there was anything bad about it, they simply did not trust it: Camu because he instinctively tried to deny all magic and Ona because as a cat, her instincts warned her that something strange was going on.

There came a second flash, and Lasgol’s stomach lurched. There was going to be a vision, a memory, and he was delighted. He would discover a new episode of his parents’ lives and wondered what it would show him, what he would learn, how important it would be.

He shivered. For some reason, he had the feeling that these visions were not random memories, but happened for a specific reason. At first, he had been sure the jewel was nothing but a bank of past memories of his parent’s lives. But he was beginning to see that there might be a connection between what happened to him in the present and the visions he invoked from the past. He kept thinking that the visions shown to him were not simply plucked at random from a well of memories stored in the jewel. It was an idea he had been turning over in his mind for some time. Perhaps that was why he used the pendant so little, because if the connection was really there, the