"David Eddings - Belgariad 5 - Enchanter's End Game" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

true nature emerged. If he had consciously sought any of this, he could
have accepted the duty which lay on him with a certain amount of
resignation. He had been given no choice in the matter, though, and he
found himself wanting to demand of the uncaring sky, "Why me?"

He rode on beside his dozing grandfather with only the murmuring song of
the Orb of Aldur for company, and even that was a source of irritation. The
Orb, which stood on the pommel of the great sword strapped to his back,
sang to him endlessly with a kind of silly enthusiasm. It might be all ver
well for the Orb to exult about the meeting with Torak, but it was Garion
who was going to have to face the Dragon-God of Angarak, and it was Garion
who was going to have to do all the bleeding. He felt that the unrelieved
cheerfulness of the Orb was - all things considered - in very poor taste,
to say the least.

The border between Drasnia and Gar og Nadrak straddled the North Caravan
Route in a narrow, rocky gap where two garrisons, one Drasnian and one
Nadrak, faced each other across a simple gate that consisted of a single,
horizontal pole. By itself, the pole was an insubstantial barrier.
Symbolically, however, it was more intimidating than the gates of Vo Mimbre
or Tol Honeth. On one side of the gate stood the West; on the other, the
East. With a single step, one could move from one world into a totally
different one, and Garion wished with all his being that he did not have to
take that step.

As Silk had predicted, Mulger said nothing about his suspicions to either
the Drasnian pikemen or the leather-clad Nadrak soldiers at the border, and
they passed without incident into the mountains of Gar og Nadrak. Once it
passed the border, the caravan route climbed steeply up a narrow gorge
beside a swiftly tumbling mountain stream. The rock walls of the gorge were
sheer, black, and oppressive. The sky overhead narrowed to a dirty gray
ribbon, and the clanging mule bells echoed back from the rocks to accompany
the rush and pounding gurgle of the stream.

Belgarath awoke and looked around, his eyes alert. He gave Silk a quick,
sidelong glance that cautioned the little man to keep his mouth shut, then
cleared his throat. "We want to thank you, worthy Mulger, and to wish you
good luck in your dealings here."

Mulger looked at the old sorcerer sharply, his eyes questioning. "We'll be
leaving you at the head of this gorge," Belgarath continued smoothly, his
face bland. "Our business is off that way." He gestured rather vaguely.

Mulger grunted. "I don't want to know anything about it," he declared.

"You don't, really," Belgarath assured him. "And please don't take Ambar's
remarks too seriously. He has a comic turn of mind and he says things he
doesn't always mean, because he enjoys irritating people. Once you get to
know him, he's not quite so bad."