"Peter David - Sir Apropos 01 - Sir Apropos Of Nothing" - читать интересную книгу автора (David Peter)

cover behind the trees and watched with goggle-eyed amazement as the ashes suddenly scattered to the
wind, thus revealing a bird that was clearly in the image of the one which had just died. At first she
thought that somehow the creature had survived, but quickly she realized that it was impossible. This new
animal was utterly unscarred by any flame. Not a feather was so much as lightly scorched.

That was when she realized, finally, what she was seeing.

The phoenix stretched its wings to their full span, which my mother claimed was as wide as ten men.
Its head pitched back and it let rip to the sky a screech so earsplitting, Madelyne maintained that forever
after she had a slight ringing in her ears. Then the phoenix flapped its mighty wings, beating the ashes into
a great cloud of soot, before leaping skyward with a final resounding caw and disappearing into the night
sky.

My mother took this as a sign. An omen if you will. For a person does not witness one of the rarest
occurrences in all of nature and un-nature and not be changed by such a moment. There are those who
believe, for instance, that to view a shooting star is to be forewarned of some coming great birth or death.
How much greater significance, then, was it to be spectator at an event of such rarity that it was mythic?
By seeing the death and rebirth of the phoenix, by being guided there via destiny's mischievous hand, my
mother became convinced that she was meant for a great destiny as well. Since death and birth were
involved, she was quite certain that it had something to do with one, or both, of those processes.

I can't blame her, I suppose. She was alone, and scared, and really rather young. It was a foolish
attitude for her to have, but it helped get her through the night.

The next morning, reinvigorated and convinced that she would have a great destiny if only she was
willing to go out and find it, Madelyne set out to make something of herself. She took the main roads, no
longer fearing highwaymen. Her reasoning was that whatever greatness she was intended for, it was
certainly not to be accosted by robbers and then killed when she was unable to provide them with any
money. Part of me shudders at the thought of such misplaced confidence. On the other hand, she traveled
in that manner for a week without being molested or harassed in any way by anyone, so perhaps
Madelyne did indeed know what she was about.

After a lengthy journey, she entered the outlying borders of the state of Isteria. King Rufus DeVane,
who found himself beset by several neighboring chieftains who were would-be monarchs, governed
Isteria at that time. DeVane was generally considered to be a weak ruler at best, although he tried as
hard as he could to rule the land with an iron hand. Of those who challenged his rule, his major
competitor was one Runcible the Crafty (a name that he himself had fostered and seemed rather pleased
to maintain). Runcible was known as a man of few words, preferring to let his actions talk for him. When
he did speak, it was of an idealized realm in which his followers--his knights, as he would make
them--would fight on behalf of justice and tolerance, introducing a new golden age to the land.

All this talk was well and good, and of little interest to the peasants who watched the warfare go on
year after year, and cared not a whit for politics. The odds were that whatever happened in the great
castles of the land, and whoever it was who might be in charge, the average citizen would continue his life
unchanged once all the shouting was done.

Finally, in her wanderings, Madelyne came upon a place of business known as Stroker's Inn, which
was--unsurprisingly--owned and operated by a gentleman named Stroker.

Perhaps "gentleman" is not exactly the right word. "Brute" might be more on target, as would "thug,"