"02 - Faery Lands Forlorn 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

moment he let himself sink into a fantasy of this beach and those warm waves and
a picnic with ... with a beautiful girl. God of Lovers!how she would enjoy this
place!
His head lolled sideways. He jerked it upright. "Come on, then!" He rose.
Thinal had also been dozing. He snarled. "What's the piddling hurry?"
"I have to find Inos."
Thinal patted the sand. "Siddown, Rap. Listen. I know you won't trow this, but
you're potty. She's in the hands of a sorceress, and an all-fired, real,
four-word sorceress at that! She's somewhere on the far side of Pandemia-east or
north, an' you don't know. An' you find her, if you ever, she'll be a grannie,
and you'll be older'n Sagorn. Come on, Rap! Lay off!"
"I am going to find Inos!"
Thinal stared up at him balefully. "I know you're stubbornbut that's screwball!
You don't know what you're saying."
"Coming?" Rap said. "Or will you stay here and starve?" For a moment it seemed
that Thinal was not coming. Then Little Chicken rose and stretched.
"You try better now, imp," he said, spooning out his words with care. "More
later I carry you. "
Glaring, Thinal heaved himself to his feet and began hobbling over the sand.
They headed north. They had hours of daylight left yet. Waves marched in to die
upon the beach-wave after wave after wave ...
Behind the veil:
When you and I behind the Veil are past,
Oh, but the long, long while the World shall last, Which of our Coming and
Departure heeds As the Sea's self should heed a pebble cast. Fitzgerald, The
Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam (з47, 1879)


TWO
This day's madness

1
Sunlight gleaming along marble wakened Inos. For a moment she stared up blankly
at gauzy draperies, striving to separate out their soft reality from bitter
dreams of the tent she had shared with Kade in the long weeks of trek through
the forest. Then awareness returned with a rush-death and sorcery; betrayal and
bereavement.
But reality was not all sorrow. It was an unfamiliar silken nightgown soft on
her skin; it was gossamer sheets and a bed that could have held a family of
peasants and their livestock, also; it was high-arched windows imprisoning
cutouts of peacock-blue sky. Also, it was morning; she must have slept the clock
around. She had vague memories of being awake in darkness, memories of fear and
grief, and she repressed those quickly. Had there been a tray of food beside the
bed? She raised herself on an elbow and peered. There was no food there now, if
there ever had been, but there was a small bronze gong.
Palace life might be very enjoyable, but her kingdom had been stolen from her,
and she must see about getting it back. Besides, she had never been more hungry
in her life. Parting the draperies, she reached out and tapped the gong quietly,
with a knuckle.
The reaction was immediate and almost embarrassing. A lanky woman swathed in