Andre Norton - WW - Estcarp Cycle 04 - Warlock of the Witch World

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Warlock of the Witch World
A Witch World novel by Andre Norton
Version 1.1
Table of Contents
•Chapter I
•Chapter II
•Chapter III
•Chapter IV
•Chapter V
•Chapter VI
•Chapter VII
•Chapter VIII
•Chapter IX
•Chapter X
•Chapter XI
•Chapter XII
•Chapter XIII
•Chapter XIV
•Chapter XV
•Chapter XVI
•Chapter XVII
•Chapter XVIII
I
IT HAS BEEN an oft-told story of our birthing that our mother, the Lady Jaelithe
(she who put aside her witchhood in Estcarp to wed the outland warrior, Simon
Tregarth), did demand of some Power she served certain gifts for us, whom she bore in
great and painful travail. That she named my brother Kyllan, warrior, my sister
Kaththea, witch (or one to control powers), and asked for me, wisdom. But it has been
that my wisdom consists in knowing that I know very little, though the thirst for learning
has ever been in me. Only, in spite of all my striving, I have done no more than nibble at
the edges of knowledge’s rich cake, liplicked the goblet rim of true wisdom. But perhaps to
know one’s limitations is, in itself, a kind of sagecraft.
In the beginning, when we were children, I did not lack fellowship, for we three, born
at one birth (which in Estcarp was something hitherto unknown) were also one in spirit.
Kyllan was formed for action, Kaththea for feeling, and I—supposedly—for thought. We
worked together smoothly, and the bond between us was tight, as if it were wrought of
flesh as well as of spirit. Then came that bleak day when Kaththea was rift from us by the
Wise Women who kept the rule of the land. And for a period we lost her.
Still, in a war a man can lose himself, or be able to put aside one set of fears for
another, living from each sun’s rising to its setting, each dusk to dawn. And that we were
forced to do. For Kyllan and I rode with the Borderers who kept a thin line of ever-ready
defense between Estcarp and the darksome menace of Karsten.
Then luck deserted me in a single swing of a short sword, and I was swept from
usefulness into that human wastage resulting from the chances of war. Yet, for this once, I
welcomed such a respite, painful as it was for my body. For from it came the freeing of
our sister from the bondage of the Witches.
Though my right hand was maimed, my warrior life apparently past, I waited hardly
past the outward healing of my wound before I went to Lormt. For during my days in the
mountains I had stumbled upon a curious piece of knowledge. Which was this—though
those of Estcarp knew the south of their long enemy Karsten, and the north of Arizon,
greedy too for their downfall, the western seas where their long-time allies, the Sulcar
seamen, cut wave and harried shores halfway around our world, yet of the east was no
mention among them. It was as if the world ended at a chain of mountains we could see on
clear days. And in the minds of those with whom we rode there was, I came to be sure, a
block against that direction, so for them the east did not exist.
Lormt was very old, even for Estcarp which has a history so buried in the dust of
years that no modern searching can disinter its beginnings. Once perhaps it was a town,
though for what purpose one should be set in that bleak country I could not guess. Now it
is only a moldering handful of buildings, surrounded by crumbling ruins. But in it there
are records of the Old Race, long forgotten; though there are those who tunnel mole-wise
among them, copying and recopying what seems to them worth the preserving, the choice
of what to save theirs alone. When, perhaps in the next cupboard may lie, in
near-tattered scraps, something far more worth renewing.
There I sought out an answer to this mystery of the unknown east. For Kyllan and I
had not surrendered (though outwardly those about us might have believed that we did)
our hope of bringing Kaththea forth and reuniting our company of three. But to escape the
wrath of the Council we needed a refuge—and this eastern mystery might offer such.
So in Lormt I found two tasks to occupy me through the months; one the searching of
ancient manuscripts; the other of learning to be a warrior once again, though now my left
hand must curve to the sword hilt. For in the twilight world in which we lived, when the
sun of Estcarp was red on the horizon, half-slipped into the dark of night, no man could
ride unarmed.
I discovered enough to make me sure that in the east did indeed lie our salvation—or
at least a chance of escaping the wrath of the witches. Also, I became once more a
warrior—of sorts.
The final blow, decided upon by the Council, to finish Karsten, gave us our chance.
While the Witches drew all power to their bidding—to stir the mountains of the south as a
cook would stir a pudding in the kettle—Kyllan and I met once more at Estford, which had
been home to us. And we rode together through a night of turmoil, to bring our sister out
of the trap which had held her so long.
Then did we go east, to find Escore, that riven land from which the Old Race had
come in the far, far past, where the powers of both good and ill had been unleashed to
walk as they would, wearing strange guises. We strove with those powers, separately and
together. Kyllan, having used part of his gift on our behalf, laid himself open to the
possession of one of these forces, and, while the cost to him was high in peril and pain, it
brought us to the People of Green Silences and into their sanctuary.
They were not wholly of our blood. Even as we were not wholly of the Old Race,
sharing the inheritance from our father who had come from another space and time.
Though they had in them some of the Old Race, yet for the rest they were older still,
being akin to the land in a way which those of my blood are not. But then, in Escore there
are many legends we had heard in our childhood which lived to walk, burrow, fly.
Then a geas was laid on Kyllan, by what Power we had no telling. And under it he
went back across the mountains to Estcarp. From him spread a kind of need—I do not
know the proper words for its description—which settled into some of the Old Race, who
had been driven out of Karsten during the Kolder War and since had been a restless,
homeless people. When he came back to us, they followed him.
Not only fighting men came so, but also their women and children, bringing all that
they could to enable them to set up households in this new land. The Men of the Green
Silences under Dahaun, their Lady (she who had succored Kyllan during his great peril),
and Ethutur, their warlord, aided them over the cliffs and brought them to the safe
Valley.
So much have I written in this chronicle, and perhaps it repeats what is already a too
familiar tale. But it has been set upon me to add this to the record begun by Kyllan. This
is my portion of the story, which stands a little apart from the history of the Great War,
though it has a rightful place in that, since it helped in bringing about the final victory.
Rightfully, my adventure begins in the Valley—which was a lightsome place in which
the heart could rejoice.
Through the years the ones who dwelt there had set such Symbols and bonds about
it that it remained free of all evil—a place in which a man could take his ease. I knew those
Symbols from my studies at Lormt and I thought them high protection.
Peaceful as it was in the Valley, we could not give ourselves to rest there, for about us
the whole of Escore was astir. Long ago this land had been riven time and time again with
wars as great as those which now gnawed our homeland in the west. Here men and
women had sought knowledge, and then passed beyond the bonds set by prudence for
such seeking. There arose those who sought power for the sake of power alone; and from
that always issues the Shadow which is darker than any night. There was a drawing apart
and some of the Old Race retreated over the mountains, wrecking behind them all roads,
closing their minds to the past.
Then the remnants warred, titanic and awful force against force, blasting and
blighting. Some, such as the Green People, who abode still by laws, drew back into the
places of wilderness. And to them came others—a handful of humans of good will; others
who were the result of early experimentation by the dabblers in strange knowledge, yet
were not evil, nor had been used for evil purposes.
But all these were too few and too weak to challenge the Great Ones, drunk with
their controls of energies beyond our comprehending. So they lay very low and waited for
the storms to sweep and ebb. Some of the Dark Ones destroyed each other in those
blasting struggles. Others withdrew through Gates they had opened that led to other
times and spaces—even as that gate through which my father had come into Estcarp. But
all of their striving left behind pools of ancient evil, servants who were freed or
abandoned. It was unknown, too, whether or not they might choose to return if something
chanced to summon them.
When we first came into Escore, Kaththea had drawn upon her witch learning to save
and aid us. In so doing she had broken the false calm which had long abode here.
Things awoke and gathered, and the land was troubled, so that the Green People
believed we were on the eve of new war. But this time we must fight or be utterly ground
into powder between the millstones of the Dark.
Now came an in-gathering of all who were of the light, that we might plan against
aroused evil. Ethutur had called this Council and we sat there, a strange mixture of
peoples—or should I say, living creatures; for some in that assembly were not men at
all—neither were they beasts.
Ethutur spoke for the Green People. To his right was a Renthan, who could and did
bear men on occasion on his back, yet spoke with a voice when there was need, and
captained a band of wily fighters—and that was Shapurn. On a large rock squatted a
jewel-scaled lizard who used its front feet as hands and now fingered in its claws a cord on
which were knotted at irregular intervals silver beads, as if these were reminders of
points to be made in any discussion.
Beyond the lizard’s rock was a helmed man whose like I had seen many times, and to
his right and left sat a man and woman in stately cloaks-of-ceremony. This was Lord
Hervon, who had come from the holding Kyllan had found in the hills, the Lady
Christwitha, and his Leader-of-forces, Godgar. Then there were Kyllan and Kaththea and
Dahaun. Perched on another rock—thus giving him more presence in a company which
towered above him physically—was Farfar the Flannan, with feathered, human shaped
body, spreading bird wings, clawed feet. The Flannan was there for reasons of prestige
only, since his people lacked the concentration to be reckoned among a fighting force,
although they made good messengers.
On the other side were the newcomers. There was another bird-like form, but it had
the head of a lizard, narrow, toothed of jaw, covered with red scales which glittered in the
sun, in bright contrast to its blue-gray feathers. From time to time it spread its wings
uneasily, darting the head from side to side, eyeing the company with sharp
measurement. This was a Vrang from the Heights and Dahaun had greeted it with
ceremony as “Vorlong, the Wing Beater.”
Beyond that strange ally was more human appearing company, four of them. These
were, we had been told before their arrival, descendants of the Old Race who had fled
long ago into the hills and managed there to exist and carve out some small pockets of
safety. Chief among them was a tall man with the dark, familiar features of the true blood.
He had the seeming of a young man, but that could be deceptive, since the Old Race show
no signs of aging until a few weeks before death—if any of them live to grow old, which in
the past years few have. He was both comely and courtly of manner.
And I hated him.
Bound together as we three had been, in the past we had never reached out beyond
for companionship. After Kaththea had been torn from us, still had Kyllan and I been so
allied. Even so, there had been comrades in arms which had our liking, and some we
viewed with distaste. But never in the past had I known such strong emotion as speared
me through—save when I had cut down some Karsten raider. Yet then my hatred had
been more for what the foe represented than the man himself. Whereas this Dinzil out of
the Heights I hated bitterly, coldly, and the reason I did not know. In fact, I was so
startled by the emotion which filled me when Dahaun introduced us that I hesitated over
the greeting words.
And it seemed to me in that moment that he knew what I felt and was amused—as
one would be amused at some act of a child. Yet I was not a child, as Dinzil would speedily
discover if the need arose.
If the need arose . . . I realized it was not hatred alone which shook me whenever I
looked upon that smooth, handsome face, but also apprehension . . . as if, at any moment,
this lord of the peaks would suddenly change from what he was to something very
dangerous to us all. Still, reason told me, the Green People had welcomed him in
friendship, regarded his arrival as a stroke of good fortune. Since they knew all the
dangers of this land, surely they would not freely open their gates to one who carried with
him the taint of evil.
Kaththea had insisted when we first crossed the fields and woods of Escore that she
could smell out pockets of old dark magic as an ill stench. My nose did not so mark Dinzil.
Yet inside of me some guardian stood to arms whenever I looked upon him.
He spoke well at our council, with good sense and showing a knowledge of warfare.
Those other lords and warriors with him would now and then offer some comment which
laid plain to us a past in which Dinzil had been the backbone of their country.
Ethutur brought out maps which were cunningly fashioned of dried leaves, the ribs
and markings on them serving for points and divisions. These we passed from hand to
hand while the Green People and the men from the Heights supplied pertinent comments,
as did also the nonhumans. Vorlong was very emphatic in his warning of a certain line of
hills which bore, he croaked in barely understandable speech, three circles of standing
stones containing something so deadly that even to fly above them brought death. We
marked out those danger spots which were known until all present recognized them.
I was smoothing out one of those maps when I felt a queer drawing. My scar-twisted
right hand—of it I was seldom aware nowadays, since it had ceased to pain me and I had
as much use of it as I could reestablish with exercise—drew my eyes from the lines on the
gray-brown surface of the map. I studied it, puzzled, and then glanced up.
Dinzil—he was looking at my hand. Looking and smiling a small smile, but one which
brought a flush to my face. I wanted to snatch my hand away, hide it behind me. Why? It
was scarred in honorable war, not from any shameful thing. Yet shame spread from that
scar merely because Dinzil regarded it so—as if anything which marred the symmetry of
one’s flesh was a deformity one should conceal from the world.
Then his eyes arose from my hand to meet mine, and again I thought I read
amusement in them—the kind of amusement some men find in the misshapen. And he
knew that I knew—yet that only added to his amusement.
I must warn them, I thought feverishly. Kyllan—Kaththea—Surely they could share
my apprehension and vague suspicion of this man. Let us but get to ourselves again and I
would bring them into my mind so they could be on their guard. On guard against what?
And why? To that I had no answer.
My eyes went once more to the map. And now, with a kind of defiance, I used my
ridged hand with its two stiffened fingers, to smooth it. In me anger was cold and deadly.
Ethutur spoke at last. “It is then decided that we send out the summons to the
Krogan, the Thas—”
“Do not count upon them too much, my lord.” That was Dinzil. “They are still neutral,
yes. But it may well be their desire to remain so.”
I heard an impatient exclamation from Dahaun. “If they believe that when battle is
once enjoined they can be so, then they are fools!”
“In our eyes, perhaps,” Dinzil answered her. “We look upon one side of a shield, my
lady. They may not yet look upon the other. But neither do they wish to make such a
choice at another’s bidding. Knowing the Krogan at least, for we of the Heights have had
some dealings with them in the past, we are also aware that if they are pushed they snap
at the pusher. Therefore, approach them we must, but let it be done with no pressure.
Give them time after the warn-sword is passed to hold their own council. Above all, do
not show them an angry face if they say you nay. For this will not be a short struggle we
now enter upon, but a long one. Those who stand uncommitted at its beginning, may be
drawn in before its ending. If we would have them join behind our war horns, then leave
them to their choices in their own time.”
I saw Ethutur nod agreement, as did the others. We could not raise contrary voices,
since this was their land and they knew it. But I thought it was never wise to war in a
country where there are those uncommitted to either side, for a neutral can turn enemy
suddenly and find an unprotected flank to attack.
“We send out the warn-sword to the Krogan, the Thas—the moss-ones?” Ethutur
ended on a questioning note.
Dahaun laughed. “The moss-ones? Perhaps—if any can find them. But they follow too
much their own ways. Those we can count upon wholly stand here and now—is that what
you would tell us, Lord Dinzil?”
He shrugged. “Who am I to call the roll of those who walk apart from my own men,
Lady? It is but proper caution to awake, or summon, naught but those we have had
dealings with in the past. Change and counterchange have wrought deeply here. Perhaps
even long-ago friends are not now to be trusted. Yes, I would say that what army we can
trust to the blooding stand now within this safe Valley of yours—or shall when we marshal
all our forces. The hills shall be horned. To the low country, yours the summons.”
I had not dared to call mind to mind in that assembly, so I was impatient for its
breaking. As yet we had but small idea of what powers or gifts those about us had—so I
would not so summon my kin. Thus it was much later that I tried to get speech with them
apart. I had the first luck with Kyllan as he rode with Horvan to seek a camping place for
the ones from over-mountain. But first I was beside Godgar, falling into talk concerning
the border war. We found we had once served in the same section of knife-edged ridges,
but at different times.
His type I knew well. They are born to war, sometimes having the spark of
leadership in them. But more often they are content to come to the horn as shield men
under a commander they respect. Such are the hard and unbreakable core of any good
force, unhappy in peace, feeling perhaps unconsciously that their reason for life vanishes
when the sword remains too long in the scabbard. He rode now as one who sniffs a scent
upon the air, glancing from side to side, marking out the country for his memory as a
scout, alert to all the tides of war.
Horvan found land to his liking and set about putting up tent shelters, though in the
valley so mild was the air that one could well lay in the open with comfort. At last I was
free to ride with Kyllan, and, avoiding mind touch here, I spoke to him of Dinzil.
I had spoken for some moments before I was aware of Kyllan’s frown. I stopped, to
look at him sharply. Then I did use the mind touch.
To discover with surprise—confusion—because I found something which at first I
could not identify and then met—for the first time in our close-knit lives—refusal to
believe!
It was a shock, for Kyllan believed that I was now one looking for shadows under an
open sun, trying to make trouble—
“No—not that!” His protest was quick as he followed my thought in turn. “But—what
do you hold against this man? Save a feeling? If he wishes us ill—how could he pass the
Symbols which seal the Valley? I do not think this place goes undefended against any who
walk cloaked in the Great Shadow.”
But how wrong he was—though we were not aware of it then.
What did I have to offer in proof of the rightness of my feeling? A look in a man’s
eyes? That feeling alone—yet such emotions were also our defenses here.
Kyllan nodded; his amazement was beginning to fade. But I closed my mind to him. I
was like a child who has trustingly set hand to a coal, admiring its light without knowing of
the danger. And then, burned, I regarded the world with newly awakened suspicion.
“I am warned,” my brother assured me. But I felt he did not think it a true warning.
That night they had a feast—although not a joyful one, since the reason for the
gathering was so grave. But they held to the bonds of high ceremony; perhaps because in
such forms there was a kind of security. I had not spoken with Kaththea as I wished; I
had waited too long, shaken after my attempt with Kyllan. Now it rested as a burden on
me that she sat beside Dinzil at the board and he smiled much upon her. She smiled or
laughed in return when he spoke.
“Are you always so silent, warrior with a stern face?”
I turned to look at Dahaun, she who can change at will to seem any fair one a man
holds in mind. Now she was raven of hair with a faint touch of rose in her ivory cheeks.
But in the sunset her hair had been copper-gold, her skin golden also. What would it be
like, I wondered, to be so many in one?
“Do you dream now, Kemoc of the wise head?” she challenged and I came out of my
bemusement.
“No good dream if I do, Lady.”
The light challenge vanished; her eyes dropped from mine to the cup she held in her
two hands. She moved it slightly and the purple liquid within it flowed from side to side.
“Look not in any foretelling mirror this night, Kemoc. Yet you have more than the
shadow of a dream over you, to my thinking.”
“I do.”
Now why had I said that? Always had I kept my own counsel, or our own counsel, for
we three-who-were-one shared. But was that still so? I looked again to my sister, who
laughed with Dinzil, and to Kyllan, who was talking eagerly with Ethutur and Hervon as if
he were a link between the two of them.
“Branch, hold not to the leaves,” said Dahaun softly. “There comes a time when those
must loose for the wind to bear them away. But new leaves grow in turn—”
I caught her meaning and flushed. That she and Kyllan had an understanding
between them I had known for weeks.
Nor had it hurt me that this was so. That there might come a day when Kaththea
would step into a road wherein she would walk with another, that I also accepted. I did
not resent it that Kaththea laughed this night and was more maiden than witch and sister.
But I resented whom she laughed with!
“Kemoc—”
I glanced again to Dahaun and found her staring at me.
“Kemoc—what is it?”
“Lady—” I held her eyes but I did not try to reach her mind. “Look well to your
walls. I am afraid.”
“Of Dinzil? That he may take from you that which you have cherished?”
“Of Dinzil—what he may be.”
She sipped from her cup, still watching me over its rim. “So, I shall look, warrior. I
was ill-spoken, ill-thought, to put it to you as I did. This is no jealousy of close kin eating
at you. You dislike him for himself. Why?”
“I do not know—I only feel.”
Dahaun put down her cup. “And feelings can speak more truthfully than tongues. Be
certain I shall watch—in more ways than one.”
“For that I thank you, Lady,” I said low-voiced.
“Ride hence with foreboding this much lightened, Kemoc,” she replied. “And good
luck ride with you, to right, to left, at your back—”
“But not before?” I raised my own cup to salute her.
“Ah, but you carry a sword before you, Kemoc.”
Thus did Dahaun know what lay in my mind, and she believed. Yet still did I face the
morning to come with a chill in me. For I was the one selected to ride to summon the
Krogan, and Dinzil showed no sign of leaving the Valley himself.
II
IT WAS DECIDED that the Green People, and we who were joined with them, must
pass the warn-sword through the lowlands to such allies as they might deem possible of
influencing. With Dahaun, Kyllan would ride to the Thas, that underground dwelling
people of whom we had yet caught no sight. They were of the dusk and the night, though
not one with the Shadow as far as was known. Ethutur and I would go to the Krogan,
those who made the lakes, rivers, waterways of Escore their own. It was thought that the
very sight of us from Estcarp might add to the serious meaning of our summoning.
We went forth in the early morning while Kyllan and Dahaun must wait for night and
the placing of torches as a summons in a waste place. So they watched us go. Horses we
no longer had; instead I bestrode one of Shapurn’s people and Ethutur rode Shapurn
himself. Large, a hand’s breadth larger than the cross-mountain mounts, these were,
sleek of hide of a rich, roan red, with creamy underbody. Their tails were a fluff of cream
they kept clamped tight against their haunches as they cantered, a tuft which was
matched by a similar puff on the tops of their heads, beneath which a long, red horn
slanted up and back in a graceful curve.
They wore no reins nor bridles, for they were not our servants, but rather fellow
ambassadors who were gracious enough to lend us their strength to speed our journeying.
And, with keener senses than ours, they were our scouts, alert to all dangers.
Ethutur wore the green of the Valley men, their most potent weapon, the force lash,
clipped to his belt. But I went in leather and mail of Estcarp. It seemed a heavy weight
across my shoulders, one which I had not noted for a long time. But my helm, with its
throat veil of fine chain weaving, I carried in my hand, baring my head to the soft dawn
wind.
Though it had been autumn, close to the time of frosts, when we had come to Escore,
yet it would seem that summer lingered longer here. We saw touches of yellow and red in
leaf and bush as we passed—still, the wind was softer, the chill of early morning quickly
gone.
“Be not deceived,” Ethutur said now. Though little or no emotion ever broke the
handsome perfection of his expression, yet now there was warning in his eyes. As in all
the males of his race he showed the horns, ivory-white among the curls above his
forehead. To a lesser degree he shared Dahaun’s ability to change his coloring. Now in this
early light his curls were dark, his face pale. But as the first sun reached to touch him, it
was red locks and brown skin I saw.
“Be not deceived,” he repeated. “There are traps upon traps, and the bait for some is
very fair.”
“As I have seen,” I assured him.
Shapurn pulled a little ahead, turning from the road which led into the Valley. My
mount followed his leader without any order I knew of passing between them. At first it
seemed that we were going back up into the Heights, but having climbed for a short
space, again we were on a downward slope. Narrow as this passage was, there were traces
that this had once been a road of sorts. Blocks of stone protruded from the soil as broad
steps which our four-footed companions took cautiously.
We came into a second valley, much choked with a growth of dark leafed vegetation
which was either stunted tree or tall bush. From this loomed masses of ancient masonry,
tumbled and broken, but still with a semblance of walls.
Ethutur nodded to it. “HaHarc—”
“Which being?” I prompted when he said no more.
“A safe place once.”
“Overrun by the Shadow?”
He shook his head. “The hills danced and it fell. But they danced to a strange piping
that night. Let us hope that that secret is indeed lost to those we front now.”
“How much of such knowledge does remain?” I asked, already sure men might only
guess.
“Who knows? Many of the Great Ones destroyed themselves when they fought.
Others went out through their gates to find new tests, new victories—or
defeats—elsewhere. Some are so withdrawn from our kind now that what happens here
holds no meaning for them. It is our hope that we face not the Great Ones of old, but
those who were their lesser shield men, whom they long ago left behind. But never forget
that those are formidable enough.”
Having seen some, I was not likely to.
Our faint and ancient road took us through the edge of the tumbled ruins. They were
well earth-buried, and trees had rooted themselves among those stones and died in turn.
Time had lain long here since HaHarc had been shaken to its ending.
Then Shapurn turned left, again following the traces of an old way. We rode from the
mouth of that haunted valley into a tall, grassed plain. Now the sun was well up and
warm. Ethutur threw back his cloak. Resting across his thighs was the warn-sword—not
fashioned of any steel but of white wood, with intricately carved runes running the length
of its broad and edgeless blade. About its haft and guard were, twined and tied in fantastic
knots, cords of red and green.
We were well out into the open when Shapurn threw high his head and halted, my
own mount following his example. The nose flaps of the Renthan were spread wide; he
turned his head from side to side in a slow sweep, questing for scent.
He spoke to our minds. “Gray Ones—”
I stared over the grass which rippled under the touch of the wind. It was tall enough
to provide hiding for a creeping man. Since Kaththea and I had fled before a wild pack of
mixed monstrosities, I had learned to distrust all landscape, no matter how innocent
seeming.
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WarlockoftheWitchWorldAWitchWorldnovelbyAndreNortonVersion1.1TableofContents·ChapterI·ChapterII·ChapterIII·ChapterIV·ChapterV·ChapterVI·ChapterVII·ChapterVIII·ChapterIX·ChapterX·ChapterXI·ChapterXII·ChapterXIII·ChapterXIV·ChapterXV·ChapterXVI·ChapterXVII·ChapterXVIIIIITHASBEENanoft-toldstoryofourbir...

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分类：外语学习 价格：5.9玖币 属性：136 页 大小：363.72KB 格式：PDF 时间：2024-12-24

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