"Bujold, Lois McMaster - Chalion 2 - Paladin of Souls" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bujold Lois McMaster)

Ista stared at their backs as they continued down the road, such as it was. Her sense of the demonТs presence, briefly so searing, was muted again. Was it occluded by matter, or perhaps deliberately hiding itself within its new fleshly lair? Or was it her deficiency? She had suppressed her sensitivity for so long, extending it again was like stretching a withered muscle. It hurt.
Lord dy Cazaril claimed that the world of the spirit and the world of matter existed side by side, like two sides of a coin, or a wall; the gods were not far away in some other space, but in this very one, continuously, just around some strange corner of perception. A presence as pervasive and invisible as sunlight on skin, as though one stood naked and blindfolded in an unimaginable noon.
Demons as well, though they were more like thieves putting a hand through a window. What occupied FoixТs space, now? If both brothers came up behind her, would she know which was which without looking?
She closed her eyes, to test her perceptions. The creak of her saddle, the plodding of the other mounts, the faint crack as a hoof struck a stone; the smell of her horse, of her sweat, of the cool breath of pines . . . nothing more, now.
And then she wondered what the demon saw when it looked at Ista.
***
They made camp by another clear stream when there was barely enough light left to find firewood. The men gathered plenty; Ista suspected she was not the only one worried about wildlife. They also built her and Liss a little bower, of sorts, with logs and branches, floored with a hay of hastily cut yellow grasses. It did not look especially bear-proof to her.
Foix rejected being treated as an invalid and insisted on gathering wood as well. Ista watched him discreetly, and so, she noticed, did dy Cabon. Foix heaved over one good-sized log only to find it rotten, crawling with grubs. He stared down at his find with a very odd look on his face.
УLearned,Ф he said quietly.
УYes, Foix?Ф
УWill I turn into a bear? Or into a madman who thinks heТs a bear?Ф
УNo. Neither,Ф said dy Cabon firmly. Though whether truly, Ista suspected even he did not know. УThat will wear off.Ф
Dy Cabon spoke to reassure, but did not seem to partake of the comfort himself. Because if the demon became less bearlike, it could only be because it was growing more Foix-like?
УGood,Ф sighed Foix. His face screwed up. УBecause those look delicious.Ф He kicked the log back over again with rather more force than was necessary and went to look for a drier deadfall.
Dy Cabon lingered by Ista. УLady . . .Ф
Five gods, his plaintive tone of voice was just like FoixТs, a moment ago. She barely turned her soothing Yes, dy Cabon? into a sharper, УWhat?Ф lest he take her for mocking him.
УAbout your dreams. The god-touched ones you had, so long ago.Ф
Not long ago enough. УWhat about them?Ф
УWell . . . how do you know when dreams are real? How do you tell good prophecy from, say, bad fish?Ф
УThere is nothing good about prophecy. All I can tell you is, they are unmistakable. As if more real than memory, not less.Ф Her voice went harsh in sudden suspicion. УWhy do you ask?Ф
He tapped his fingers nervously against the side of one broad hip. УI thought you might instruct me.Ф
УWhat, the conductor conducted?Ф She tried to turn this off lightly, though her stomach chilled. УThe Temple would disapprove.Ф
УI think not so, lady. What apprentice would not seek advice from a master, if he could? If he found himself with a commission far beyond his skills?Ф
Her eyes narrowed. Five godsЧand never had the oath seemed more aproposЧwhat dreams had come to him? Did a lean man lie in a sleep like death, on a bed in a dark chamber . . . she would not even hint of that secret vision. УWhat dreams have you been having?Ф
УI dreamed of you.Ф
УWell, so. People do dream of those they know.Ф
УYes, but this was before. Once, before I ever saw you that first day out riding on the road near Valenda.Ф
УPerhaps . . . were you ever in Cardegoss as a child, or elsewhere, when Ias and I made a progress? Your father, or someone, might have put you on his shoulder to see the royaТs procession.Ф
He shook his head. УWas Ser dy Ferrej with you then? Did you wear lilac and black, ride a horse led by a groom down a country road? Were you forty, sad and pale? I think not, Royina.Ф He looked away briefly. УThe ferretТs demon knew you, too. What did it see that I did not?Ф
УI have no idea. Did you ask it before you dispatched it?Ф
He grimaced and shook his head. УI did not know enough to ask. Then. The next dreams came later, more strongly.Ф
УWhat dreams, Learned?Ф It was almost a whisper.
УI dreamed of that dinner in the castle in Valenda. Of us, out on the road, with almost this company. Sometimes Liss and Ferda and Foix were there, sometimes others.Ф He looked down, looked up, confessed: УThe temple in Valenda never sent me to be your conductor. They only sent me up to convey Learned ToviaТs apologies, and to say that she would call on you as soon as she returned. I stole your pilgrimage, Royina. I thought the god was telling me to.Ф
She opened her mouth, to do no more than breathe out. She made her voice very neutral, letting her hands grasp the sapling she leaned against, behind her back, to still their trembling. УSay on.Ф
УI prayed. I drew us to Casilchas so that I might consult my superiors. You . . . spoke to me. The dreams ceased. My superiors suggested I bestir myself to really be your spiritual conductor, since I had gone so far already, and lady, I have tried.Ф
She opened a hand to assuage his concern, though she was not sure he could see it in the failing light. So, his peculiar convictions about her spiritual gifts, back in Casilchas, had come from a more direct source than old gossip. Through the sparse trees, the firelight was starting up from two pits dug in the sandy stream bank, in cheery defiance of the gathering night. The fires looked . . . small, at the feet of these great hills. The BastardТs Teeth, the range was called, for in the high passes they bit travelers.
УBut then the dreams started up again, a few nights past. New ones. Or a new one, three times. A road, much like this. Country much like this.Ф His white sleeve waved in the shadows. УI am overtaken by a column of men, Roknari soldiers, Quadrene heretics. They pull me from my mule. TheyЧФ He stopped abruptly.
УNot all prophetic dreams come true. Or come true as first seen,Ф said Ista cautiously. His distress was very real, it seemed to her, and very deep.
УNo, they could not be.Ф He grew almost eager. УFor they slew me in a different cruel way each night.Ф His voice slowed in doubt. УThey always started with the thumbs, though.Ф
And she and Liss had laughed at his wine-sickness . . . drowning dreams, was he? That didnТt work. SheТd tried it herself, long ago in IasТs court. УYou should have told me this! Much earlier!Ф
УThere cannot be Roknari here, now. They would have to cross two provinces to reach this place. The whole country would be aroused.Ф His voice seemed to be trying to push back the darkness with reason. УThat dream must belong to some other, later future.Ф
You cannot push back the darkness with reason. You have to use fire. Where had that thought come from? УOr no future. Some dreams are but warnings. Heed them, and their menace empties out.Ф
His voice went very small, in the darkness. УI fear I have failed the gods, and this is to be my punishment.Ф
УNo,Ф said Ista coldly. УThe gods are more ruthless than that. If they use you up in their works, they have no more interest in you than a painter in a crusted and broken brush, to be cast aside and replaced.Ф She hesitated. УIf they still lash and drive you, you may be sure it means they still want something from you. Something they havenТt got yet.Ф
УOh,Ф he said, no louder.
She gripped the tree. She wanted to pace. Could they get off this road? It was farther back to Vinyasca, now, than it was to go forward. Could they strike down this streambed to the plains? She imagined waterfalls, thorn tangles, sudden rock faces over which it was impossible either to ride or lead their mounts. They would think her mad to insist upon such a wild course. She shivered.
УYou are right about the Roknari, though,Ф she said. УSingle spies, or small groups in disguise, might penetrate this far south unseen. But nothing strong enough to overcome our well-armed company, in any case. Even Foix is not out of the muster.Ф
УTrue,Ф he allowed.
Ista bit her lip, looking around to be quite sure the young man had gone out of earshot back to the camp. УWhat about Foix, Learned? For a moment, I sawЧit was as if I saw the bearТs spirit. It was more riddled and decayed than its body, writhing in an agony of putrefaction. Will Foix . . . ?Ф
УHis danger is real, but not imminent.Ф Dy CabonТs voice firmed on this surer ground, and his white-clad bulk straightened. УWhat he has gained by accident, some sinful or shortsighted or desperate men actually seek by design. To capture a demon, and feed it slowly on themselves in exchange for its aidЧso men turn sorcerers. For a time. Quite a long time, some of them, if they are clever or careful.Ф