"Dart-Thornton,.Cecilia.-.Bitterbynde.02.-.Lady.Of.The.Sorrows.V2" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dart-Thornton Cecilia)

Experimentally, the Bard strummed a few chords, then began to sing:
ЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧ
One holds to one's ritual customs, one's intricate, adamant code;
One's strictly correct with one's manners, in line with the mode.
Real ladies are frugal when dining; to bulge at the waist would be vile!
Their forms must be slender as willowsЧof course, it's the style.

One's speech is quite blissingly novelЧ'tis far from colloquial brogue!
And common folk don't understand it; they're not in the vogue.
One's raiment's expensively lavish and drives ev'ry suitor quite mad.
One's tailors are paid to keep up with each glorious fad.

One's hairstyles defy all description; each strand is coiffed right to the end.
One needs to put up with the anguish to be in the trend.
We carefully choose whom to cherish with fine and fastidious passion;
'Tis seemly for one to be seen with the doyens of fashion!
ЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧ
Between each verse he led a facetious chorus of fal-lal-lals in which, after the first time around, everyone joined, masters and servants alike. The song concluded amid general merriment.
Later, talk among the Dainnan captains turned to weightier matters, such as the strength and numbers of the rebels in the unquiet north. Rohain could only listen in growing consternation, untutored as she was in the ways of warfare.
"And how do their tactics serve the barbarians of Namarre?" asked Sir Heath.
Ercildoune replied, "Reports say they are but loosely organized under their several chieftains. They shun pitched battles. Instead they use their speed and horsemanship to ride swiftly from location to location, assailing isolated detachments, intercepting convoys and plaguing columns on the march. Until they feel confident of winning, they try to avoid full-blown conflict."
"I have heard additionally," said Sir Tide, "that their light horsemen also use the classic tactics of feigned flight, luring our troops into ambushes or doubling back at a prearranged position and charging the pursuers."
The Bard nodded and went on to describe other maneuvers performed by the rebels in their constant harassment of northern Eldaraigne by land and sea. Of the unseelie wights being drawn to Namarre by a Summons undetectable to mortalkind, little was discussed. By this omission, Rohain guessed the true depth of the men's unease. The ways of eldritch wights were alien, often incomprehensible. Who could guess what horrors might come of such an unprecedented mustering?
Thus in conversation the evening passed, until it was time for the passengers to retire to their cabins.
ЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧЧЧЧл╗ЧЧЧ
The role of bard was one of the most important and highly regarded functions in society. Historian, record-keeper, songmaker, entertainer: a bard was an exalted figure and a good bard a treasured auxiliary to any person of high birth. "Second only to jesters in consequence," Thomas of Ercildoune himself had dryly proclaimed.
He being probably the most learned man in the five kingdoms, later in the voyage Rohain tapped him for information about the Talith: how many were known to dwell in Erith, where they were located, whether any Talith maidens had been reported lost or taken by wights during the past year or so. He gave her many details about the yellow-haired people, yet although he spoke at length, nothing he revealed gave any clue as to her origins.
But he was merry company, and the Dainnan captains, if sterner and more watchful, were also quick to smile and exchange banter. In song, story, and discussion of the foibles and quirks of courtiers, the voyage passed swiftly.
An unstorm came casting its crepuscular veil and lighting the dusky forests with jewels of multihued fires. By night, the Peregrine wandered through a cloudscape of long white ridges and blue-gray valleys, smooth snowfields like bleached velvet, frosted mountains, blue abysses and hoary cliffs occupied only by silent towers of ivory and flocks of teased-wool sheep. The rising sun crayoned bright gold edges on them all.
Before dawn on the eighteenth of Nethilmis, the Windship reached the snow-tipped Lofties and was onhebbed to a lower, more perilous altitude so that Rohain could view the dark landscape. The sky, pure violet in the zenith, shaded to pale gray in the south. Northeastward, the low red rim of the sun burned, rayless. The snowy peaks glistened brilliantly in appliquщ against the dull sky.
When at last they drifted over the shadowy pine forest wherein she and Sianadh had been lured by the malignant waterhorse, Rohain was able to get her bearings. Rugged Bellsteeple reared its glistening head in the north. Below it, the line of the distant escarpment was dimly visible across the terrain. Westward, wild, wide cuinocco grasslands stretched as far as the eye could see. There was the gleaming slash of the river-gorge, gouged by the Cuinocco Road on its route to the Rysingspill in the south.
On board the Windship, all attention was directed toward Rohain.
"This is the waterway we called 'Cuinocco's Way,' which springs from Bellsteeple. Where the land begins to rise"Чshe stretched out an arm and pointedЧ"that is the Waterstair."
Now the vessel flew up the river, directly above it, the hull's sildron repelling the shallow riverbed but unable to affect the water. In such narrow confines, Captain Tide ordered all sail to be furled. The Peregrine ran only on her quiet, well-oiled sildron engines. Progress was slow but inexorable. Below, jacarandas reached crooked fingers skyward, their cyanic glory now vanished. The firmament unrolled overhead like a sheet of beaten pewter.
Every memory of Sianadh threatened to overwhelm Rohain. She saw the river redgum trees lining the western shores where the walls of the gorge subsided; at this season the river, deprived of its lifeblood by ice's iron grip in the higher altitudes, ran at a low mark. Farther along, the tree-bridge still lay across the channel. There she and Sianadh had fled to safety and she had brought him water in a boot. Her mood grew melancholy.
In silence and despondence the refugee from Isse Tower came, for the second time, to Waterstair.
"Before daylight grows," said Sir Tide, "we shall onheb down to fifty feet and bring her in behind the trees. If any keep watch on this Waterstair, this ship shall not be seen by them."
The wind dropped. Light as ash keys, the winged, wind-dispersed fruits of ash trees, the Peregrine settled down amid tall firs. The port and starboard anchors were tossed out noiselessly in the brittle air. Landing-pods were rolled down on ropes and Sir Heath led his thriesniun forth. Like shadows they melted into the greenwood.
The sun stepped a little higher, but no rays bristled forth to pierce the greenery of a thousand shades in the cold, leafy galleries where the Peregrine bobbed, camouflaged by her mottled hull.
A Dainnan knight materialized silently below, the sage-green of his raiment scarcely visible against the vegetation. Climbing a rope ladder as easily as another man might run up a stair, he came before the Bard, and addressing him by his honorary Dainnan kenning, delivered a message.
"My Lord Ash, the place is found. Prisoners have been taken. Lookouts have been posted through the forest. The way is clear."
Now the other passengers descended and made their way alongside the river.
The water's loquacious tongues muttered softly. Bushes and grasses beside Cuinocco's Way lay trampled and crushed. Vines lay shriveled at the cliff's foot. Rohain searched there for any signs of SianadhЧa fragment of clothing, perhaps; a belt buckle or an earring. She found nothing. Scavengers would have dragged away any carcass left aboveground to rot. His bones would lie scattered somewhere. She had heard it said that hair was an enduring thing, that in graves opened centuries after their occupation and sealing, even the bones had crumbled to dust but the hair yet remained undecayed. Would ruby filaments hang upon twigs here and there, blowing in the wind, all that remainedЧbesides memoriesЧof a true and steadfast friend?
She learned from Captain Heath all that had taken place on the ground while she and the Bard had been waiting in the Windship. Perhaps a dozen of Scalzo's men had been left to guard the doors of Waterstair. Their lookouts had not perceived the approach of the Dainnan, who moved as quietly as wild creatures. Some of the eastside men had been stationed around the skirts of the rocky pool into which the cascade pouredЧSianadh's "porridge pot." There they had lolled unwarily. The Dainnan warriors had crept up unnoticed under the cover of the waterfall's noise and taken them without trouble.
However, beneath the water curtain it was a different story. Several of the guards had managed to seal themselves inside the cavern, having slipped through the doors when the surprise attack was launched. They had pulled the doors shut behind them.
The massive, decorative portals would not budge. The Dainnan, having discovered the stone game pieces atop the cliff, had as yet embarked upon no course of action. Twelve of their knights stood ringed around the wet stone platform in the cavern facing those impossibly tall doors, which glimmered green-gold under the gaze of the carved eagle. The ever-descending torrent at their backs cast its illusions on the eyes of those who watched them. As they stood braced, the knights seemed to be moving upward.
An indication of his calm faith in Dainnan prowess was given by Captain Heath, who allowed the lady passenger to accompany the Bard beneath the falls. Now Thomas of Ercildoune stood before the doors of Waterstair. His eyes, squinting with intense concentration from beneath his embroidered taltry, moved across the motifs of twining leaves to the runes. Abruptly, the solemnity of his mien was broken by a flashing smile. He nodded at Sir Heath, who signaled his men. The Bard's chest expanded. He shouted out a single word, which rose above the cataract's thunder. Smoothly, as they had been designed to do, the doors swung open.
Instantly the Dainnan were inside. The tussle was brief; Scalzo's mercenaries had no chance of matching the King's warriors. The Dainnan took the armed guards without drawing their own weapons, in a spontaneous display of speed, strength, and force. In a short time, all were disarmed and restrained.
The treasure at last lay revealed.
So mighty was the mass of the hoard that although it had been despoiled, it seemed to Rohain there was no change in its magnitude. There lay the jeweled caskets, the candelabra, the weapons and armor, the cups and chalices, the gold plate, the coffers and chests overflowing with coins, the spidersilk garments. Over everything burned the cold, crystal flame of the swan-ship. Certainly no change had been wrought in the beauty and wholesomeness of any of the artifacts. So much beautyЧand so much blood had been spilled for it.