"Tara K. Harper - Wolfwalker 5 - Silver Moons, Black Steel" - читать интересную книгу автора (Harper Tara K)

He knew that the other man watched him closely for any signs of weakness.
They had ridden together for how many years? And still, Sojourn watched
him. The other man had a right, Talon admitted bitterly. The past few
months had left Talon so lean as to be almost gaunt. His black, close-
cropped hair framed a hard, sculpted face; his high, harsh cheekbones only
emphasized the hollow lines that had changed his looks so severely. He had
a square jaw, a nose that had been broken at least twice, and dark eyebrows
that sat heavily above icy gray eyes. He was not handsome. He had his
fatherтАЩs looks instead: too much power, strength, and will; and little to
soften the lines.
The sun shifted closer to full dawn, and Talon forced himself to relax. Eight
hundred years ago, he would not have played such games as those he would
today. Hands like his would have gripped the controls of a skyhook or
guided a spacecar up from the mountains and into the starry void. He would
have flown starships and explored a dozen different worlds, not bathed in
blood each ninan. His father claimed that blood and steel would give him
that dream again, but DrovicтАЩs vision had twisted in like a shark that
savages itself. Now, Drovic strove more for revenge than for any sort of
future. Talon wondered when he, himself, had turned from the world to
follow his father instead.
He shifted irritably. His saddle creaked in the dark. Five, six more minutes,
and the watch down below would change. The village guards would relax,

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Silver Moons, Black SteelтАФHarper, Tara K - Wolf 05


and those who slept would rise to break their fast while others began their
chores. Talon could feel it like a voice in his headтАФthe routine that
screamed to be broken. He heard the hard speed of his heart and welcomed
the iciness that gripped his mind. His thoughts ticked off the seconds. The
tension, the cold steel, the creak of saddle-warm leatherтАФyes, those things
felt right and natural. It was the town below that felt wrong.
From behind him, some of the riders shifted. Jervid, a large-framed but
oddly ropy man, muttered just loud enough for Talon to hear his words: тАЬтАж
still think we ought to go in on the south side.тАЭ
TalonтАЩs lips tightened at JervidтАЩs gall, but he kept his mouth shut.
тАЬItтАЩs a foolтАЩs ride to go through an exposed field when you can approach
beneath the trees,тАЭ Jervid added, a touch louder as Talon did not respond.
тАЬAnd more fool to take our flight through a cluttered woods when you
could have the speed of the open fields. Backwards, thatтАЩs what it is. Bass-
ackwards like a fool.тАЭ
TalonтАЩs eyes narrowed, but in the gloom, the others could not see it.
Someone chuckled, and a womanтАФOroan perhaps, or RocтАФsaid something
that silenced the laughter abruptly, except for a dry comment too low to
hear. Talon had listened closely, but it could have been Fit or Morley or
Mal who had laughed at JervidтАЩs complaint.
But Jervid wasnтАЩt finished, and the manтАЩs voice grew louder as he found he
was not challenged. тАЬEvery father thinks his son can lead,тАЭ he scoffed
softly. тАЬ тАШPut him back in the saddle,тАЩ he said. тАШGet the blood back on his