"Bard's Tale 04 - The Chaos Gate - Josepha Sherman UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bard's Tale)

wiped his beak delicately with a scrap of cloth, and said, "We have their note."
"Yeah, sure. We've gone off into the forest to practice our Bardic Art.' That tells us a lot, doesn't it?"
"It tells us everything." D'Krikas paused again, folding his segmented arms precisely across his chitinous chest. 'The creative mind is an odd thing; particularly, it would seem, in a human. Such a mind cannot thrive under close confinement And it is quite true that Count Kevin has had scant time to be what he primarily is: a Bard."
"And you aren't even a little bit worried?"
"Why, no. He is not in enemy territory, after all, nor is he alone."
"Sure," Lydia said flatly. "He has Naitachal with him. Now that really fills me with confidence!"
D'Krikas cocked his head to one side in the sharp Arachnia fashion that meant surprise but always reminded Lydia of a predatory insect about to pounce. As she schooled herself not to flinch, the seneschal asked in what sounded like genuine confusion, "Why should it not? The elf is no longer a Necromancer."
'That's exactly my point! At least while he was practicing that cursed death magic, he kept himself rigidly under control. Maybe you couldn't quite trust him not to work Necromantic spells, but at least he acted like a responsible adult! Now that he's turned into a Bard, he's gotten just as unpredictable as Kevin."
"Ah. No. You misunderstand. The elf is acting like one newly released from prison, drunk with freedom. It is a temporary condition and does not make him untrustworthy. And at any rate," D'Krikas added severely, "Count Kevin is no longer a child in need of care."
"Why, that's ridiculous. He's still just a kid."
"He is nineteen. In human society, that makes him quite legally responsible for his actions, does it not?"
Lydia hesitated, then sighed. "You know it does," she admitted reluctantly, brushing a straying black curl back from her face with an impatient hand. "And yeah, I guess you're right. He doesn't really need watching over, not anymore. He and Naitachal are probably off in some nice, pretty grove playing nice, pretty music together."
"Exactly. They will surely be back in a short while. And then," D'Krikas added with the slightest edge to his voice, "it will be time for worry, for then we shall have to listen to whatever new songs they have composed."
Lydia, who had heard in her travels some of the atonal dronings the Arachnia considered the only proper music, barely managed to bite back a laugh. "You got it," she said.
But for all her amusement, for all D'Krikas' inhuman calm, a shadow of worry remained to haunt her.
Kevin craned his head back and back again, looking up at the grim grey walls towering over him on the equally grey rocks. "Now that," he said, "is most definitely a war castle."
"Oh, indeed," Naitachal agreed. "Count Trahern s ancestors must have led some interesting lives. But times are far more peaceable these days, the lost, unlamented Princess Carlotta notwithstanding. Are we still going to keep up this ridiculous pretense?"
Kevin shot a glance Naitachal's way. The Dark Elf was completely shrouded in his cloak, only the harp slung across his back breaking the somber, anonymous mass. "We are, indeed. Unless, of course, you'd rather not continue with me?"
"What, and give up the entertainment business?"
Ignoring Naitachal s sarcasm, Kevin kicked his horse forward and started up the twisting road to Count Trahern's castle.
And, he thought uneasily, to Gwenlyn.
Now, where were minstrels supposed to enter? At his own court, he gave wandering musicians a friendly greeting, being a Bard himself. But who knew how Count Trahern felt about such folk? For want of an answer, Kevin rode right up to the main gate, a massive thing of heavy oak beams and heavier iron grating. Beside him sat Naitachal. The Dark Elf had slipped into the role of a hunched-over, submissive nobody with the ease, Kevin thought bemusedly, of someone who'd once managed to fool an entire squadron of guards into thinking him no more than a harmless dancing girl.
Two great watchtowers loomed over the gate, and the young count glanced up, suddenly very much aware of watching eyes. So. Here we go. "Ho, the castle!" he yelled.
"Who calls?"
"Two minstrels," Kevin began, "whoЧ"
But before he could get any further, the unseen guard s voice cut in flatly. "Servants' entrance is around back that way. Use it"
Kevin sat gape-mouthed, taken aback by the unexpected rudeness. Beside him, Naitachal murmured, "This was your idea." Such amusement hinted in the elven Bard's voice that Kevin said shortly, "It's all right. A little humility isn't going to hurt us."
"Oh, indeed."
But as they rode along the curve of the castle towers, Kevin couldn't quite quench a hot little flame of anger, remembering all too clearly another time when
he'd ridden just as boldly up to a castle, only to be humbled just as thoroughly. Ah yes, but back then he'd been truly naive, those four incredible years ago, back when becoming a Bard was only a dream and he'd never imagined such folk as warrior women or Dark Elf allies could exist. He'd been plain Kevin in those days, a lowly bardling sent on what he'd thought was a boring errand to copy out a musty old music text.
Ha! Boring was the last thing that errand turned out to be. What with sorcery and undead andЧ
"Kevin."
"Ah." Lost in memory, he had almost ridden right past the servants' gate. Standing in the stirrups, the count rapped sharply on the thick oaken door. "Anyone within?"
"Who's there?"' The voice sounded thoroughly bored, as though, Kevin thought uneasily, its owner might bar strangers from entry just for the sake of something to do.
7 don't need this. I just want to meet Gwenlyn and get it over with. I don't need anyone playing games with me. 'Two minstrels," Kevin answered as pleasantly as he could, "come to entertain Count Trahern and his folk."
'Why?"
That was the last thing he'd expected. "I... uh ... I..."
Was that a chuckle from Naitachal? The Dark Elf wasn't making the slightest move to help him at all, so Kevin said defensively, "Why, because we're good at what we do! We areЧwe are fine musicians and talented entertainers. And I assure you, Count Trahern will enjoy meeting us."
'True enough, that last," Naitachal murmured wryly, so softly Kevin almost couldn't hear him. "Even if it's for different reasons than you claim."
"We've had musicians here in plenty," the voice continued from the other side of the door, "some good, some not. Lady Gwenlyn loves music, and so does her noble father."
Well now, that sounded hopeful enough. But before Kevin could reply to that, the voice added scornfully, "So why do we need you?"
Oh, this is ridiculous! "Because, curse it all, we're not like other minstrelsЧ"
"Clowns, are you?"
"No!" Naitachal was definitely chuckling now, and Kevin only just kept from childishly kicking the doorЧ-or the Dark Elf. "We," he said with great restraint, "are true musicians, not mountebanks, not street corner entertainers, and as such are covered by the Laws of Hospitality." Kevin was aware he was bluffing wildly now, but hopefully the guard on the other side of the door knew even less than he about archaic points of law. "If you wish to examine us, fine. If you wish to hold our weapons for security, fine. Just let us enter!"
There was a long pause. Then the door slowly groaned open. "Enter," the bored voice said as though doing them a favor. Kevin bit back a sharp retort, knowing all too well why the unseen guard had let them in. It hadn't been because Kevin had convinced him of anything, but simply because the guard had gotten tired of his game.
Never mind, never mind. We're inside, and that's all that matters.
Kevin glanced quickly about the castle courtyard, trying to orient himself. The yard, like that of his own castle, was full of people, stablehands, farriers, merchants, servants rushing here and there on mysterious errands. Not all were human; Kevin spotted two Arachnia traders chirring and clicking to each
other in their native tongue as they strolled along.
Huh. Bet they didn't have any trouble getting in.
At the far end of the courtyard rose the massive keep, square-sided and several stories high, topped by lead sheathing. This building would surely hold the audience chamber and Count Trahern s private living quarters. And those of Gwenlyn...