"Raymond E. Feist - Riftwar 3 - A Darkness at Sethanon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

spoke ancient words. Angry, it stank of ancient evil,
echoing with long forgotten prophecies. In a frenzy the
wind spun, swirling out of the void, as if seeking a
course, then it seemed to pause, then it blew northward.

The old nurse hummed a simple tune, one handed down
from mother to daughter for generations, while she
sewed. She paused to glance up from her needlework.
Her two small charges lay sleeping, tiny faces serene
while they dreamed their tiny dreams. Occasionally
fingers would flex or lips would purse in sucking motions,
then one or the other would return to quiescence. They
were beautiful babies and would grow to be handsome
lads, of this the nurse was certain. As men they would
have only vague memories of the woman who sat with
them this night, but for now they belonged as much to
her as their mother, who sat with her husband presiding
over a state dinner. Then through the window a strange
wind came, chilling her despite its heat. It carried a hint
of alien and distorted dissonance in its sound, an evil
rune barely perceived. The nurse shivered and looked
toward the boys. They became restless, as if ready to
wake crying. The nurse hurried to the window and closed
the shutters, blocking out the strange and disquieting
night air. For a moment it seemed all time held its
breath, then, as if with a slight sigh, the breeze died away
and the night was calm again. The nurse tightened her
shawl about her shoulders and the babies stirred fitfully
for another moment, before lapsing into a deep and quiet
sleep.

In another room nearby, a young man worked over a list
struggling to put aside personal likes and dislikes as he
decided who was to serve at a minor function the next
day., It was a task he hated, but he did it well. Then the
wind made the window curtains blow inward. Without
thinking, the youngster was half out of his chair in a
crouch, a dirk seeming to fly from his boot top to his
hand, as a street-born sense of wariness signalled danger.
Poised to fight, he stood with heart pounding for a long
moment, as certain of a death struggle as he had ever
been in his conflict-torn life. Seeing no one there. the
young man slowly relaxed. The moment was lost. He
shook his head in perplexity. An odd disquiet settled in
the pit of his stomach as he slowly crossed to the
window. For long, slowly passing minutes he gazed
toward the north, into the night, where he knew the
great mountains lay, and beyond, where an enemy of
dark aspect waited. The young man's eyes narrowed as
he stared into the gloom, as if seeking to catch a glimpse