"Eddings, David - Malloreon 3 - Demon Lord Of Karanda" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

CHAPTER ONE



The first snow of the season settled white and quiet through the
breathless air onto the decks of their ship. It was a wet snow
with large, heavy flakes that piled up on the lines and rigging,
turning the tarred ropes into thick, white cables. The sea was
black, and the swells rose and fell without sound. From the stem
came the slow, measured beat of a muffled drum that set the
stroke for the Mallorean oarsmen. The sifting flakes settled on
the shoulders of the sailors and in the folds of their scarlet
cloaks as they pulled steadily through the snowy morning. Their
breath steamed in the chill dampness as they bent and
straightened in unison to the beat of the drum.

Garion and Silk stood at the rail with their cloaks pulled tightly
around them, staring somberly out through the filmy snowfall.

"Miserable morning," the rat-faced little Drasnian noted,
distastefully brushing snow from his shoulders.

Garion grunted sourly.

"You're in a cheerful humor today."

"I don't really have all that much to smile about, Silk." Garion
went back to glowering out at the gloomy black-and-white
morning.

Belgarath the Sorcerer came out of the aft cabin, squinted up
into the thickly settling snow, and raised the hood of his stout
old cloak. Then he came forward along the slippery deck to join
them at the rail.

Silk glanced at the red-cloaked Mallorean soldier who had
unobtrusively come up on deck behind the old man and who
now stood leaning with some show of idleness on the rail
several yards aft. "I see that General Atesca is still concerned
about your well-being," he said, pointing at the man who had
dogged Belgarath's steps since they had sailed out of the
harbor at Rak Verkat.

Belgarath threw a quick disgusted glance in the soldier's
direction. "Stupidity," he said shortly. "Where does he think I'm
going?"