"Kerr,.Katharine.-.Deverry.03.-.Bristling.Wood" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

death, men gathered nightly around the campfires to scheme.
Every now and then, a few foolhardy young men would ride back to
spy. Even fewer returned, but those who did spoke of general ruin
and disease still raging. If life in the grasslands hadnТt been so
harsh at first, perhaps an army might have marched west, but every
year, there were almost as many deaths as births. Finally, some
four hundred and fifty years after the Burning, some of the younger
men organized a major scouting party to ride to Rinbaladelan.

УAnd I was among them, a young man,Ф Manaver said, his voice
near breaking at the memory. УWith twenty friends I rode west, for
many a time had I heard my father speak of Rinbaladelan of the
Fair Towers, and I longed to see it, even though the sight might
bring my death. We took many quivers of arrows, for we expected
many a bloody skirmish with the last of the Hordes.Ф He paused for
a twisted, self-mocking smile. УBut they were gone, long dead, and
so was Rinbaladelan. My father had told me of the high temples,
covered with silver and jet; I saw grassy mounds. He told of towers
five hundred feet high made of many-colored stones; I found a
broken piece here and there. He told of vast processions down
wide streets; I traced out the grassy tracks. Here and there, I found
a stone hut, cobbled out of the ruins. In some, I found skeletons
lying unburied on the floor, the last of the Hordes.Ф

The crowd sighed, a grief-torn wind over the grassland. Near the
front a little girl squirmed free of her motherТs lap and stood up.

УThen why didnТt we go back, if they were all dead?Ф she called out
in a clear, high voice.

Although her mother grabbed her, the rest of the gathering
laughed, a melancholy chuckle at a childТs boldness, a relief after
so much tragedy. Manaver smiled at the little girl.

УBack to what, sweet one?Ф he said. УThe kingdom was dead, a
tangle of overgrowth and ruins. WeТd brought our gods to the
grasslands, and the grasslands became our mother. Besides, the
men who knew how to lay out fine cities and smelt iron and work in
stone were all dead. Those of us who survived were mostly
farmers, herdsmen, or foresters. What did we know about building
roads and working rare metals?Ф

Her mouth working in thought, the girl twisted one ankle around the
other. Finally she looked up at the dying bard.

УAnd will we never go back, then?Ф

УWell, СneverТ is a harsh word, and one that you should keep closed
in your mouth, but I doubt it, sweet one. Yet we remember the fair
cities, our birthright, our home.Ф