Arthur Hughes April LoveAlbert Bierstadt The Buffalo TrailAlbert Bierstadt The Shore of the Turquoise Sea
Careful, careful. Concentrate, concentrate. It'll let go any second . . .
Om stuck out his long scrawny neck, stared at the body just above him, picked what he hoped was about the right spot, plunged his beak through the brown feathers between the talons, and gripped.
The eagle blinked. No tortoise had ever done that to an eagle, anywhere else in history.
Om's thoughts with you. Understand? This is important. This is what I want you to do . . ."
The eagle soared on a thermal off the hot rocks, and sped towards the distant gleam of the Citadel.
No tortoise had ever done this before. No tortoise in the whole universe. But no tortoise had ever been a god, and knew the unwritten motto of the Quisition: Cuius testiculos habes, habeas cardia et cerebellum.
When you have their full attention in your grip, their hearts and minds will follow.
arrived in the little silvery world of its mind:"We don't want to hurt one another, now do we?"The eagle blinked again.Eagles have never evolved much imagination or forethought, beyond that necessary to know that a turtle smashes when you drop it on the rocks. But it was forming a mental picture of what happened when you let go of a heavy tortoise that was still intimately gripping an essential bit of you.Its eyes watered.Another thought crept into its mind."Now. You play, uh, ball with me, I'll play . . . ball
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