"David Farland - Runelords 5 - Sons of the Oak" - читать интересную книгу автора (Farland David)

sending us to a hard place."
Borenson and Waggit caught each other's eyes. A thrill passed between them.
"Damn," Borenson said, "that boy is perceptive."

Movement up on the hill drew Fallion's eyeтАФa shadow flitted like a raven
between the trees.
Fallion could not see what had drawn his attention. The wet trunks of the
pines were as black as ruin. The forest looked as wild and rugged as Fallion's
father.
He focused on the tree line. A few great oaks sprawled silently along a ridge,
offering shade to a pair of brown cattle, while smaller oaks crowded the
folds. But still there was no sign of what had drawn his eye, and again
Fallion felt uneasy.
Something is there, Fallion realized. Something in the shadows of the trees,
watching usтАФa wight perhaps. The ghost of a shepherd or a woodsman.
The loud bleat of a sheep rode down from the woods above, echoing among the
hills in the crisp evening air.
'Time to go," Borenson said, turning his horse; the others fell in line.
But the image of the cottage lingered, and Fallion asked, "The widow Huddard,
she ... makes a lot of her own things. She sells milk and vegetables, honey
and whatnot?" !
"And your question is?" Waggit asked.
"She lives well from her own labors. But I was bom a lord. What can I make?"
Fallion thought of the craftsmen at the castleтАФthe armor┬мers, the alewives,
the master of the hounds, the dyers of wool. Each jealously guarded the
secrets of his trade, and though Fallion suspected that he could master any of
those trades, he had no one to teach him.
Waggit smiled with satisfaction. "The common folk ma┬мnipulate things," he
said. "Blacksmims work metal, farmers till the land. That is how they earn
their living. But a lord's art is a greater art: he manipulates people."
"Then we are no better than leeches," Fallion said. "We just live off of
others."
Sir Borenson sounded so angry that his voice came out a near roar. "A good
lord earns his keep. He doesn't just use others, he empowers them. He
encourages them. He makes them more than what they could become by
themselves."

Maybe, Fallion thought, but only because they know that he'll kill them if
they don't do what he says.
With a sly grin, Waggit added, "A lord's craft can indeed be marvelous. He
molds men. Take Sir Borenson here. Left to his own devices, he is but the
basest of clay. He has the natural instincts of a ... cutthroatтАФ"
"Nay," Daymorra threw in with a hearty laugh. "A lecher. Left to his own ways,
he'd be a lout in an alehouse, peddling the flesh of young women."
Borenson blushed, the red rising naturally to his face, and laughed. "Why not
both? Sounds like a good life to me."
"But your father turned Borenson into a lawman," Waggit said. "And there are
few better. Captain of the Guard, at one time."
Fallion gave Borenson a long look. Fallion had heard that Borenson had been
powerful indeedтАФuntil his Dedicates had been killed. Now the guardsman had no