"Dave Duncan - A Man Of His Word 1 - Magic Casement" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

from a pocket in his cloak and played a trill.
"Do you sing, too?" Rap was still suspicious.
"Not at the same time," Jalon said solemnly.
This time the snigger escaped completely, and Rap shot Inos a murderous glare
from the corner of his eye.
Jalon did not seem very worried by the pike. "But I do play the harp and there
used to be a good one on the mantel in the hall, so I can borrow that again, I'm
sure." He did not seem as if he would be very worried by anything at all-and
there certainly was a harp on the mantel.
"Wait here!" Rap put his pike over his shoulder rather clumsily and swung
around, stamping his boots and apparently headed for the guard room.
That would not do at all! Inos did not want Sergeant Thosolin, and perhaps
others, coming out and seeing her wandering unaccompanied, carrying home her own
purchases. "Rap? Should you go off and leave me helpless with this dangerous
stranger?" Rap stopped and spun around, almost grinding his teeth.
"And the castle!" she exclaimed. "What if a troll comes, or a griffon? And
you're not here to guard us! "
"You come with me, then!" He was quite furious now.
"No! " Inos said. "I think you should take Master Jalon to the guard room with
you if you think he is dangerous. You are welcome in my father's house,
minstrel." That sounded very gracious and regal.
The stranger smiled and bowed to her again. He strolled toward the guard room
with Rap. Inos lingered for a moment, then slipped through the archway,
unobserved and very satisfied.
Like the town itself, the castle was all up and down, and she was soon puffing
again as she hurried up the endless steps toward her chamber. Halfway there she
met old Kondoral, the seneschal, picking his way carefully down an especially
dark staircase. He was small and stooped and white-haired, with gray, withered
skin and eyes so rheumy that she did not like to look at them... but quite a
pleasant old relic when he did not talk your ears numb. His memory for recent
events was failing. He repeated the same stories endlessly, yet he could
remember the remote past quite well.
"Good day to you, Master Kondoral," she said, stopping.
He peered down at her for a moment, clutching the rail. "And to you, Highness."
He sounded surprised, as if he had expected someone much younger.
"Do you know a minstrel called Jalon?" Inos was still bothered by her inability
to recall that polite young man. Minstrels came but rarely to remote Krasnegar.
"Jalon?" Kondoral frowned and pulled his lip. "Why, yes, my lady! A very fine
troubadour." The old man beamed. "Is he come here again?"
"He is," she said crossly. "I don't remember him,"
"Oh, no, you wouldn't." The old man shook his head. "Dear me, no. It has been
many years! But that is good news. We shall hear some fine singing from Master
Jalon if his voice has not lost its thrill. I remember how he brought tears to
all our eyes when he sang `The Maiden and the Dragon'--"
"He doesn't look very old," she said quickly. "Not much older than me." Well,
not very much.
Kondoral shook his head again, looking doubtful. "I can recall hearing tell of
him when I was young myself, my lady. This must be a son, then, or grandson? "
"Perhaps!" she said, and dodged quickly by, before he could start reminiscing.
Several staircases later she reached her summer chamber, at the top of one of