"Cecilia Dart-Thornton - The Bitterbynde 02 - The Lady of the Sorrows" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dart-Thornton Cecilia)

she muttered obliquely. With a thoughtful air, she lowered the needlework to her lap. "So. A name you
will need." She hummed a little tune. "I've got it! 'Rohain.' A tad Severnessish-sounding, but it suits you.
And you must say that you come from some remote and little-known place, so that there is small chance
of meeting any person who hails from there and might betray you. The Sorrow Islands off Severnesse are
such a placeтАФmelancholy, avoided whenever possible. Tarrenys is an old family name from those parts.
YesтАФthat's it. Ha! Rohain Tarrenys you shall beтАФsay farewell to Imrhien Goldenhair, Lady Rohain of
the Sorrows."
"Am I to be a lady? I know nothing of the ways of gentlefolk. I shall be discovered."
"Methinks you underestimate your own shrewdness. Hearken. Should a peasant wife arrive at the
palace with a story of discovering great wealth, that woman risks her life. There are those at Court who
are not as scrupulous as the Dukes of Ercildoune and Roxburgh; those who would wish to take the credit
to themselves for such a discovery, and to silence the real messenger. It is possible a commonwife would
not be given the opportunity to speak with the Dukes before she was bundled off with a few pennies,
maybe to be followed, waylaid, and murdered. Howbeit, a gentlewoman must be treated with greater
scrupulosity."
"Who, at Court, could be so perfidious?"
"It will become clear to you," said Maeve briskly. She changed the subject. "Have you a potent tilhal
for protection along the way?"
"I have a self-bored stone, given me by Ethlinn."
"A worthy talisman," said the carlin, examining the stone with a lopsided squint. "You might well
have need of it. Many malign things wander abroad these days. Doubtless you have heardтАФit is said that
one of the brigand chieftains of Namarre has grown strong enough to muster wicked wights in his
support. There is no denying that some kind of summons, inaudible to mortal ears, is issuing from that
northern region. Unseelie wights are moving across the lands, responding to the Call. With an army of
lawless barbarians, aided by unseelie hordes, a wizard powerful enough to summon wights would be an
opponent to be reckoned with. They say such a force might stand a goodly chance of overthrowing the
Empire and seizing power in Erith. If that should come to pass, all the lands would be plunged into chaos.
It would mean the end of the long years of peace we have known."
A chill tremor tore through the listener.
"These are uneasy times," continued the carlin, with a shake of her head. "Even creatures who have
not revealed themselves for many lifetimes of men have lately reemerged. It is not long since I heard a
rumor that Yallery Brown has been seen again."
She returned the stone to its owner.
"What is that?" asked the girl, tucking the tilhal beneath her garments.
"Yallery Brown? One of the wickedest wights that ever was or isтАФso wicked that it is dangerous
even to befriend him. Have you not heard the old tale of cursed Harry Millbeck, the brother of the
great-grandfather of the mayor of Rigspindle?"
"I have heard many tales, but not that. Pray tell it!"
"He was a farm laborer, was Harry," said Maeve. "On a Summer's evening long ago, he was
walking home from work across fields and meadows all scattered with dandelions and daisies when he
heard an anguished wailing like the cry of a forsaken child. He cast about for the source and at last
discovered that it issued from underneath a large, flat stone, half-submerged under turf and matted
weeds. This rock had a name in the district. For as long as anyone could remember, it had been called
the Strangers' Stone, and folk used to avoid it."
"A terrible fear came over Harry. The wails, however, had dwindled to a pitiful whimpering and
being a kindhearted man he could not steel himself to walk on without rendering aid to what might have
been a child in distress. With great trouble, he managed to raise up the Strangers' Stone, and there
beneath it was a small creature, no bigger than a young child. Yet it was no childтАФrather it looked to be
something old, far older than was natural, for it was all wizened, and its hair and beard were so long that
it was all enmeshed in its own locks. Dandelion-yellow were the hair and whiskers, and soft as