"Flint, Kenneth C - Gods of Eire 03 - Master of the Sidhe UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Flint Kenneth C)

"What, just walk through them?" the Dagda said uncertainly.

"It'll be safe," she said. "They won't hurt us." "You may say so," he said, "but I have to tell you, I've never much liked rats, and seeing this does very little to change my feelings."

"It's all right, really," she assured him. "Just follow meЧand stay very close."

She led the way along the avenue, making her way through the billowing waves of rats. The animals fixed the little band with their dark, glittering stares as it passed by, only edging out of its way. Aine walked along quite calmly, but her companions crept along very gingerly, fearful of treading on a rodent by mistake.

Lugh looked around him at the scores of mounds the rats now were forming. Under each, he knew, a Fomor body lay. So fast did the voracious rodents strip the carcasses of flesh that he already saw the white gleam of bones among the pulsing, furry heaps.

He shivered inwardly and turned an appraising eye on Aine.

"Bres was right, calling you ruthless," he told her. "It's not a thing I'm ashamed of," she replied frankly. "And you can't say you didn't know it of me."

He looked at that sweet, young, guileless face and then considered the brutal death she had administered so calmly. "I knew it," he said. "I'm just not certain I wanted it to be true."

"And if I was your vision of the poor, pale, innocent girl," she returned, "you'd have been dead yourself many times before now."

At that he was forced to smile. She was certainly right. They passed through the rest of the horde of rats and

reached the city's edge at last. No new bands of Fomor appeared to hinder them as they moved out into the open land beyond. They broke into a trot, headed back upward to the safety of the inland hills. Behind them the Fomor stronghold sank back to a patch beneath a filthy yellow haze.

"They escaped?" Bres ranted, fixing his glare on the hapless Fomor officer.

"They moved too fast, my King," the man said in excuse. "And they had powers! Those ratsЧ"

"I don't want to know the details of your failure," Bres told him callously. "Once more these mindless vermin you call warriors have been defeated by that boy and his odd group of friends."

The officer was tempted to point out that Bres's own trap had been somewhat of a failure as well. But he prudently held back.

"Now they'll be warning Nuada that I plan to challenge the de Dananns again," Bres went on, half to himself. "They'll march on us here as soon as they can host. I'll have to act quickly."

"Act, my King?" the officer said in puzzlement. "How?"

Bres gave the man a pitying look. "You poor fool. You and the others would just keep on fighting until you were all destroyed. You don't realize that the Dagda was right. We are too weak to win or even survive another battle with the de Dananns. No, we'll need help to win, and I intend to get it."

This only deepened the officer's bewilderment. "But every Fomor in Eire is already gathered here! Where would you get help for us?"

"From the Tower of Glass," Bres said with great confidence.

The Tower of Glass! Those words had the intended effect on the officer. He repeated them in the hushed tone of reverential awe. The Blessed Tower. The place of purity and light that these creatures of Eire knew only from the tales of their elders. The Dwelling of the Powers.

"Why should they help us?" the officer asked. "They never have before."

"Because if they mean to see Eire held, they've no other choice," Bres returned. "I'll go to the Tower myself and tell them that. I'll bring them to support us, that I promise. Now, ready me a ship. There's no more time. I must sail for the Tower at once!"

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MASTER OF THE SIDHE