"Barbara Hambly - Darwath 5 - Icefalcons Quest" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hambly Barbara)

before the coming of the Dark Ones. There were many in the Keep-not just the Keep Lords, either-who
scrupulously maintained the old forms, and it was not unreasonable to suppose that such a one might
have a niece with a roving eye and a Felwoods turn to her tongue.
It was the mark of civilized people to make such allowances and not live with one's hand forever on one's
sword-belt. Commander Janus of the Guards, and the Lady Minalde, and others over the years, had told
the Icefalcon repeatedly that every snapped twig did not necessarily presage the swift onset of bloody
disaster.
But the reflection that he was right, and they wrong, was of little consolation to the Icefalcon in the face of
what was to come.
? Chapter 2

"If you mean, do I think she was faking," said Gil-Shalos half an hour later, walking along the broad
Royal Way at the Icefalcon's side with her gloved hands stuck in her sword-sash, "the answer is yes."
At midday the mazes of the Keep were sparsely populated, especially in spring. The rasp of files and
saws, characteristic noises that rose and faded with the turnings of the fortress' tangled hallways, were
stilled as the men and women who labored all winter in their dim-lit cells joined hunting parties or
optimistically cultivated what arable land there was-anything to add to the Keep's slim stores of food and,
especially, clothing.
With the destruction of the entire sheep herd in the Summerless Year, the Icefalcon had immediately
reverted to the wearing of leather and furs, dyed black as the clothing of the Guards of Gae was always
black; others were following suit.
Uneasy torchlight flung shadows over the black stone walls but couldn't pierce the gloom collected under
the high ceiling vaults. Here and there vermillion slits of poor-quality-oil light marked the rough louvers or
curtains that closed off doors of the dwelling cells. Raised largely in the open, the Icefalcon had had a
difficult time getting used to living under a roof in his years at Gae. The Keep was like dwelling forever in
a cave.
A very safe cave, of course. But a cave, nonetheless.
But he had played in caves as a child, up in the Night River Country. He had memorized their most
intricate twists and turnings, their tiniest holes and pass-throughs, in order to ambush his playmates, even
as the children here learned to run the mazes without lights in the course of their games.
He still practiced several times a week, finding his way about the back reaches of the Keep blindfolded.
Following his example, as in many other things, Gil did this as well.
"It is not exactly what I mean," the Icefalcon said, as they turned left and descended the Royal Stair.
Many people had trouble keeping abreast of the Icefalcon's long-legged stride, but Gil was fast. "But tell
me why you think this woman lies about the Ancestor who dwells within her head."
"There's too much of a difference between her uncle's class and hers."
"I thought of that. It is not inconceivable, O my sister, that the man's sister could have married beneath
him."
"Maybe." She didn't sound happy about it. She understood watchfulness as few civilized people did, the
awareness of patterns and when a single trace or scat or spoor looked not as it should.
"But anybody can make up gibberish and say it's an unknown language. Religious fakers in my world
have been using that one for centuries. And logic would tell anybody that people had to live somewhere
while the Keeps were being built. If you think about it, it would have to be in caves."
The Icefalcon nodded. It was, he reflected, part of a storyteller's art, and he'd frequently teased Gil about
the fascination a civilized people had for stories that sounded true but weren't.
They passed under clotheslines draped with garments hung between the Royal Stair's spacious arches to
take advantage of the updraft of warm air and on into the Aisle. Hundreds of yards long and over a
hundred wide, its ceiling vanished high in darkness above them.
The obsidian walls, like those of the densely twisted corridors, glittered dimly with squares of scattered
lamplight; doors, and windows. Multifingered streams trickled dark and clear as winter midnight under