"Phyllis Eisenstein - Island In Lake" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eisenstein Phyllis)

from his bones, and then the bones themselves would begin to dissolve. It's an
ugly sight."

Alaric shuddered. "You've seen it?"

"When I was a child, we chased a fox off the causeway. It floated, for a short
time, while the water worked on it." He shook his head. "Poor hapless fox.
Normally, animals stay away from the lake. They know what it holds."

Looking up at the walls again, the minstrel said, "How strange to live
surrounded by...that." Then he smiled a slow smile. "I'll make a song of it, if
I can."

Taskol smiled back. "I think that would not displease my lord." He pointed to
the doorway of the keep, at the far end of the courtyard. "I imagine he awaits
his dinner just now. If I introduce you, he might invite me to stay for the
meal."

"By all means, then, introduce me."

The great hall of the keep was not so large as some Alaric had visited, but it
was one of the most luxurious, at least at first glance. High, narrow windows
admitted the afternoon sunlight, showing the walls hung with tapestries, the
stone floor scattered with carpets and furniture of velvet and fine-carved wood.
Only on closer inspection, as he walked the length of the chamber, did he see
that the carpets were worn almost to their backings in many places, the
tapestries were moth-eaten, the velvets thinnapped and shiny, and the fine woods
dry and cracked. The riches of the citadel were of an earlier generation, and
had not been renewed. He realized that more than a few seasons must have passed
since that overgrown road had known much traffic.

Yet there was newer wealth here, even so. The trestle table at the far end of
the room, ancient as it appeared, was heavy laden with fresh bread, meats, and
vegetables, with butter, cheese, and ale. And the two men who sat behind it were
dressed well enough, in supple leather, light wool, and golden chains. They
looked like brothers, both dark and strong-jawed, though one was much older than
the other.

Taskol bent the knee before them, and Alaric imitated him.

"My lord," said Taskol, "I beg to present Alaric the minstrel, lately come into
our land to offer his songs for our pleasure."

The older of the two men pushed his chair back and rose to his feet. "It has
been long and long since a minstrel came to this land. You are welcome, sir."
But he said the words gravely, without any smile. He was a tall man, and broad
with muscle, though his hair was touched with gray and there were deep lines
carved about his mouth and across his forehead, and dark pouches beneath his
eyes. "As you see, we are dining. Join us, minstrel, and afterward show us your
wares. We would welcome something new." He sat clown again. Then he added,