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

Liss nearly spat out the bite she was chewing.
УBut sheТs only a courier!Ф gasped Lady dy Hueltar.
УI assure you Chancellor dy Cazaril will not begrudge her to me. Couriers hold themselves ready to ride wherever they are ordered. What say you, Liss?Ф
Liss, eyes wide, finished gulping, and managed, УI think IТd make a better groom than waiting lady, Royina, but I will try my best for you.Ф
УGood. None could ask more.Ф
УYou are the dowager royina!Ф dy Ferrej almost wailed. УYou cannot go out on the roads with so little ceremony!Ф
УI plan a pilgrimage in humility, dy Ferrej, not a march in pride. Still . . . suppose I were not a royina? Suppose I were some simple widow of good family. What servants, what reasonable precautions would I take then?Ф
УTravel incognito?Ф Learned dy Cabon caught the idea instantly, while the rest were still gobbling in misdirected resistance. УThat would certainly remove many distractions from your spiritual study, Royina. I suppose . . . such a woman would simply ask the Temple to provide her with escort in the usual way, and they would fill the request from the riders available.Ф
УFine. That has been done for me already. Ferda, can your men ride tomorrow?Ф
The cacophony of protest was overridden by dy GuraТs simple, УCertainly. As you command, Royina.Ф
The shocked silence that followed was decidedly baffled. And even, possibly, a little thoughtful, if that was not too much to hope.
Ista sat back, a smile turning her lips.
УI must take thought for a name,Ф she said at length. УNeither dy Chalion nor dy Baocia will do, unsimple as they are.Ф Dy Hueltar? Ista shuddered. No. She ran down a mental list of other minor relatives of the provincars of Baocia. УDy Ajelo would do.Ф The Ajelo family had scarcely crossed her view, and never once provided a lady-in-waiting to assist in IstaТs . . . keeping. She bore them no ill will. УI shall still be Ista, I think. ItТs not so uncommon a name as to be remarked.Ф
The divine cleared his throat. УWe need to confer a little tonight, then. I do not know what route you desire of me. A pilgrimage should have both a spiritual plan and, in necessary support of it, a material one.Ф
And hers had neither. And if she did not assert one, one would surely be foisted upon her. She said cautiously, УHow have you led the pious before, Learned?Ф
УWell, that depends much upon the purposes of the pious.Ф
УI have some maps in my saddlebags that might supply some inspiration. IТll fetch them, if you like,Ф Ferda offered.
УYes,Ф said the divine gratefully. УThat would be most helpful.Ф
Ferda hurried out of the chamber. Outside, the day drew toward sunset, and the servants moved quietly about the room, lighting the wall sconces. Foix leaned his elbows comfortably on the table, smiled amiably at Liss, and found room for another slice of honey-nut cake while they waited for his brotherТs return.
Ferda strode back into the dining chamber in a very few minutes, his hands full of folded papers. УHere . . . no, here is Baocia, and the provinces to the west as far as Ibra.Ф He spread a stained and travel-worn paper out on the table between the divine and Ista. Dy Ferrej peered anxiously over dy CabonТs shoulder.
The divine frowned at the map for a few minutes, then cleared his throat and looked across at Ista. УWe are taught that the route of a pilgrimage should serve its spiritual goal. Which may be simple or manifold, but which will partake of at least one of five aims: service, supplication, gratitude, divination, and atonement.Ф
Atonement. Apology to the gods. Dy Lutez, she could not help thinking. The chill memory of that dark hour still clouded her heart, on this bright evening. Yet who owed Whom the apology for that disaster? We were all in it together, the gods and dy Lutez and Ias and I. And if abasing herself on the altar of the gods was the cure for that old wound, she had eaten dirt enough already for a dozen dy Lutezes. Yet the scar still bled, in the deep dark, if pressed.
УI once saw a man pray for mules,Ф Foix remarked agreeably.
Dy Cabon blinked. After a moment he asked, УDid he get any?Ф
УYes, excellent ones.Ф
УThe godsТ ways are . . . mysterious, sometimes,Ф murmured dy Cabon, apparently digesting this. УAhem. YoursЧRoyinaЧis a pilgrimage of supplication, for a grandson as I understand it. Is it not?Ф He paused invitingly.
It is not. But dy Ferrej and Lady dy Hueltar both made noises of assent, and Ista let it pass.
Dy Cabon ran his finger over the intricately drawn chart, thick with place names, seamed with little rivers, and decorated with rather more trees than actually stood on BaociaТs high plains. He pointed out this or that shrine devoted to the Mother or the Father within striking distance of Valenda, describing the merits of each. Ista forced herself to look at the map.
To the far south, beyond the mapТs margins, lay Cardegoss, and the great castle and fortress of the Zangre of evil memory. No. To the east lay Taryoon. No. West and north, then. She trailed her finger across the map toward the spine of the BastardТs Teeth, the high range that marked the long north-south border of Ibra, so recently united with Chalion in her daughterТs marriage bed. North along the mountainsТ edge, some easy road. УThis way.Ф
Dy CabonТs brow wrinkled as he squinted at the map. УIТm not just sure what . . .Ф
УAbout a dayТs ride west of Palma is a town where the DaughterТs Order has a modest hostel, rather pleasant,Ф remarked Ferda. УWeТve stayed there before.Ф
Dy Cabon licked his lips. УHm. I know of an inn near Palma that we might reach before nightfall, if we do not tarry on the road. It has a most excellent table. Oh, and a sacred well, very old. A minor holy place, but as Sera Ista dy Ajelo desires a pilgrimage in humility, perhaps a small start will serve her best. And the great shrines tend to be crowded, this time of year.Ф
УThen by all means, Learned, let us avoid the crowds and seek humility, and pray at this well. Or table, as the case may be.Ф IstaТs lips twitched.
УI see no need to weigh out prayer by the grain, as though it were dubious coin,Ф replied dy Cabon cheerily, encouraged by her fleeting smile. УLet us do both, and return abundance for abundance.Ф The divineТs thick fingers made calipers of themselves and stepped from Valenda to Palma to the spot Ferda had tapped. He hesitated, then his hand turned once more. УA dayТs ride from there, if we arise early enough, is Casilchas. Sleepy little place, but my order has a school there. Some of my old teachers are still there. And it has a fine library, considering the small size of the place, for many teaching divines who have died have left it their books. I grant a seminary of the Bastard is not exactly . . . exactly apropos to the purpose of this pilgrimage, but I confess I should like to consult the library.Ф
Ista wondered, a little dryly, if the school also had a particularly fine cook. She rested her chin upon her hand and studied the fat young man across from her. Whatever had possessed the Temple of Valenda to send him up to her, anyway? His half-aristocratic ancestry? Hardly. Yet experienced pilgrimage conductors usually had their chargesТ spiritual battle plans all drawn out in advance. There were doubtless books of devotional instruction on the topic. Perhaps that was what dy Cabon wanted from the library, a manual that would tell him how to go on. Perhaps he had slept through a few too many of those holy lectures, in Casilchas.
УGood,Ф said Ista. УThe DaughterТs hospitality for the next two nights, the BastardТs thereafter.Ф That would put her at least three full daysТ ride from Valenda. A good start.
Dy Cabon looked extremely relieved. УExcellent, Royina.Ф
Foix was mulling over the maps; heТd pulled out one of all Chalion, necessarily less detailed than the one dy Cabon studied. His finger traced the route from Cardegoss north to Gotorget. The fortress guarded the end of a chain of rough, if not especially high, mountains that ran partway along the border between Chalion and the Roknari princedom of Borasnen. FoixТs brows knotted. Ista wondered what memories of pain the name of that fortress evoked in him.
УYouТll want to avoid that region, I think,Ф said dy Ferrej, watching FoixТs hand pause at Gotorget.
УIndeed, my lord. I believe we should steer clear of all north-central Chalion. It is still very unsettled from last yearТs campaign, and Royina Iselle and Royse Bergon are already starting to assemble forces there for the fall.Ф
Dy FerrejТs brows climbed with interest. УDo they think to strike for Visping already?Ф
Foix shrugged, letting his finger slide up to the north coast and the port city named. УIТm not sure if Visping can be taken in a single campaign, but it were good if it could. Cut the Five Princedoms in two, gain a seaport for Chalion that the Ibran fleet might find refuge in . . .Ф
Dy Cabon leaned over the table, his belly pressing its edge, and peered. УThe princedom of Jokona, to the west, would be next after Borasnen, then. Or would we strike toward Brajar? Or both at once?Ф
УTwo fronts would be foolish, and Brajar is an uncertain ally. JokonaТs new prince is young and untried. First pinch Jokona between Chalion and IbraЧpinch it off. Then turn to the northeast.Ф FoixТs eyes narrowed, and his pleasant mouth firmed, contemplating this strategy.
УWill you join the campaign in the fall, Foix?Ф Ista asked politely.
He nodded. УWhere the Marshal dy Palliar goes, the dy Gura brothers will surely follow. As a master of horse, Ferda will likely be pressed into assembling cavalry mounts by midsummer. And, lest I miss him and start to pine, heТll find some hot, dirty job for me. Never any lack of those.Ф
Ferda snickered. FoixТs returning grin at his brother seemed entirely without resentment.
Ista thought FoixТs analysis sound, and had no doubt how heТd come by it. Marshal dy Palliar and Royse Bergon and Royina Iselle were none of them fools, and Chancellor dy Cazaril had a deep wit indeed, and not much love for the Roknari coastal lords who had once sold him to slavery on the galleys. Visping was a prize worth playing for.
УWe shall steer west, and away from the excitement, then,Ф she said. Dy Ferrej nodded approval.
УVery good, Royina,Ф said dy Cabon. His sigh was only a little wistful, as he refolded FerdaТs maps and handed them back. Did he fear his fatherТs martial fate, or envy it? There was no telling.