"Brooks, Terry - Heritage 01 - The Scions of Shannara" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brooks Terry)

them was deafening, and flames were scattered everywhere now,
licking hungrily at the flooring and walls. The stranger led them
quickly down the hall and through the rear door into the alley-
way. Two more of the green-clad men waited. Wordlessly, they
surrounded the brothers and rushed them clear of the ale house.
Par glanced back. The flames were already leaping from the
windows and crawling up toward the roof. The Blue Whisker
had seen its last night.

They slipped down the alleyway past startled faces and
wide eyes, turned into a passageway Par would have sworn
he had never seen before despite his many excursions out that
way, passed through a scattering of doors and anterooms and
finally emerged into a new street entirely. No one spoke.
When at last they were beyond the sound of the shouting and
the glow of the fire, the stranger slowed, motioned his two
companions to take up watch and pulled Par and cole into a
shadowed alcove.

All were breathing heavily from the run. The stranger
looked at them in turn, grinning. "A little exercise is good
for the digestion, they say. What do you think? Are you all
right?"

The brothers both nodded. "Who are you?" asked Par.

The grin broadened. "Why, practically one of the family,
lad. Don't you recognize me? Ah, you don't, do you? But,
then, why should you? After all, you and I have never
met. But the songs should remind you." He closed his left
hand into a fist, then thrust a single finger sharply at Par's
nose. "Remember now? "

The Scions of Shannara 17

Mystified, Par looked at cole, but his brother appeared as
confused as he was. "I don't think . . ."he started.

"Well, well, it doesn't matter just at the moment. All in
good time.'' He bent close. ' 'This is no longer safe country
for you, lad. Certainly not here in Varfleet and probably not
in all of Callahom. Maybe not anywhere. Do you know who
that was back there? The ugly one with the whisper?"

Par tried to place the rangy speaker with the soft voice. He
couldn't. He shook his head slowly.

"Rimmer Dall," the stranger said, the smile gone now.
"First Seeker, the high mucky-muck himself. Sits on the Co-
alition Council when he's not out swatting flies. But you, he's