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

and add to my stock of songs. Those songs are my fortune, and an easier one to
carry than any gold."

The younger man spoke for the first time. "You are brave to come here, sir
minstrel. Unless Taskol has not told you of the lake..." He looked narrowly at
the headman.

"I had already heard, in far-distant places, and he told me as well," said the
minstrel. "But I think I am less brave than the folk who live here. I would not
wish to try this lake during a storm, when the deadly waves splash high."

"These stout walls protect us," said Lord Gazian. "And we take care. It has been
many a year since one of our own was claimed by the lake."

"Still, I see high courage in living here. You and your people have all my
admiration."

"Enough admiration," said the younger man. "Sing another song."

Gazian looked at his companion for a moment, and Alaric saw a flicker of anger
pass between them before the lord of the castle turned back and said, "Go ahead,
another song."

Another song led to another, and at last the sunlight in the high windows
reddened and faded, and tripod oil lamps were lit to take its place. Finally,
Alaric pleaded weariness after a long day of walking and said that he would sing
again the next day, if desired.

Lord Gazian nodded and rose abruptly from his place at the table. "You have our
thanks, minstrel, for this afternoon's entertainment. My brother will see that
you are made comfortable for the night." He nodded to the younger man and,
without waiting for any acknowledgement, crossed the room to a tapestry-fringed
archway in the farther wall. Stairs were visible beyond the arch, and in a
moment, he had climbed out of sight.

The younger man rose, when his brother had gone, and he came around the table to
stand above the minstrel. "You sing well, young minstrel. What was your name?"

"Alaric, my lord."

The man's mouth tightened for a moment. "I am not known as lord," he said. Then
he made a peremptory gesture toward the doorway that was still crowded with
servants, and the two young women came scurrying. "Make him a pallet in the
kitchen," he said, and turned away. With a swift stride, he went out to the
courtyard.

Alaric glanced at Taskol. "Have I insulted him?" he asked.
Taskol shrugged. "Master Demirchi is the heir. But while his brother lives,
there is only one lord here--we haven't room for more in our little land. I'm
sorry, minstrel; I should have thought to warn you. We call him sir."