"Anthony, Piers- Incarnations of Immortality 4- Wielding a Red Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (Anthony Piers)

"I do not know you," the woman said. "I have not before talked directly with a person with your problem. Forgive me if I am clumsy; I don't quite know how to help you."

Again the man tried. It took time for him to get the words out, but the woman was patient and did not try to interrupt or to fill in the words for him. Digested, what he said was this: "I need help to leave the Kingdom."

"But if you have committed some crime, and are fugitive from justice, I shall not help you," the woman said.

He asserted that he was not a criminal; he just had need to depart anonymously.

"Forgive me again," she said, "but I must ask you to touch my harp. This will advise me whether what you say is true."

He touched her harp. Nothing happened. She smiled. "Thank you. Now let us be introduced. I am Orb Kaftan of Ireland, and I sing for my supper. My harp is a gift of the Mountain King and it will not suffer the touch of a dishonest person. I am sorry I had to doubt you before."

"I-must not tell you my identity," the man said haltingly. "I am not injured; I wear the bandage to conceal my face."

"Ah-a political refugee?"

"Approximately." His stutter was diminishing as her warm attention helped him, but that word remained a considerable challenge.

"May I see your face?"

He unwound the bandage. His face was clear and handsome, almost aristocratic. "But I must not show it openly," he said.

"I think we might help you, but I am not sure you would like the manner," Orb said. "We always have need of inexpensive labor, tending the animals, cleaning the cages, menial chores. I think you are of higher birth than that."

"I am. I will do the work."

"Perhaps we can improve upon your camouflage," she said. "Let me fetch you a mask."

She set him up with a clown-mask. She assured him that it would not seem unusual, as long as he remained with the group, as most of the members had more than one task, doubling as entertainers and workers.

And so he joined the group and shoveled dragon manure and cleaned the harpy cage and fed fish to the mermaid. He was paid only with food, a bunk in a wagon, and his right to be anonymous.

The group moved slowly from village to village, on wagons hauled by rented elephants, and put on its show at every stop.

After several days, the man approached Orb again. "I think I could perform," he explained haltingly.

"But everybody laughs at the clowns!" she protested.

"They laugh with the clowns," he clarified. "And I could do other things that don't require speaking. I could be a mime, a juggler, an acrobat."

"These things are not as easy as they may appear," she protested.

"But I have some natural ability and some training," he said. "My mouth may be handicapped, but not my body."

"Well, if you're sure, I can take you to the tour master," she said doubtfully. "But he is an exacting man."

"Take me to him."

She did. The tour master was large and fat and, when he wasn't playing to a crowd, he tended to scowl. "Show your stuff or get out," he said gruffly.