"Hawke, Simon - Athas 3 - Broken Blade e-txt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

"And with those words, he died. And so the kingdom of the elves died with him."

"And so the kingdom of the elves died with him," Cricket repeated, her voice tinged with sadness. Edric's fingers plucked out a dirge of soft chords as he continued.

"And our people became decadent, and the tribes scattered far and wide, most to live as nomads in the desert, raiding and stealing from both humans and each other, forsaking their honor. Others went to live in the cities of humans, where they engaged in commerce with them and mixed their blood with theirs and forgot the glory of their once-proud race.
"And yet, a tiny spark of hope remained, nurtured in the hearts of our people. That faintly glowing spark was the legend of the Crown of Elves, passed on through the generations. To most, it was merely a myth, a story told by elven bards around campfires to while away lonely desert nights and bring a few moments of solace in the squalid elven quarters of the cities, where our people lived in poverty and degradation. But to all, it was a glimmer of hope. And thus we recall the legend."

"And thus we recall the legend," Cricket said softly. They were both caught up in spirit of the song, and the noise from the main room seemed to recede into the distance as Edric played and sang.

"There shall come a day, the legend says, when a chieftain's seventh son shall fall and rise again, and from his rise, a new life shall begin. From this new life will spring a new hope for our people, and it shall be the Crown of Elves, by which a great, good ruler will be crowned, one who will bring back the elven forest homeland. The Crown shall reunite the people, and a new dawn shall bring the greening of the world. "So it is said, so it shall be."

"So it is said, so it shall be," Cricket echoed, her eyes shining. Edric plucked out the final chords, took a deep breath, and exhaled heavily, then put down his harp. For a moment, they simply sat in silence.
"Thank you," Cricket said finally, her voice barely a whisper.
"No, thank you," said Edric. "It has been too long since I have sung that song. And it is good to have another share it."
"Even a half-elf?" Cricket said, somewhat rueful.
Edric reached out and placed his hand on her knee. She allowed the contact, for she knew it meant merely friendship. "The same elven blood flows through both our veins, my dear."
"Only yours is pure, while mine is mixed."
"Perhaps, but yours is no less red than mine," said Edric with a smile, giving her knee a reassuring pat before removing his hand. "And in a place like this, what do bloodlines matter?"
"In a place like this, perhaps they don't," Cricket replied with a shrug of resignation. "But there are places where they do matter very much."
"Was it your father who was human, or your mother?" Edric asked.
"My father."
"Ah, so your mother was tribal, then."
"Yes, how did you know?"
"It took no great powers of deduction," Edric said. "In cities, elves are less clannish, and those of mixed blood are not uncommon, whereas in desert-dwelling tribes, such things are not easily accepted."
"No," she said, softly, "they are not."
"And do your parents still live?"
"My mother died five years ago, old before her time from laboring as a scullery maid in a tavern owned by humans. I never knew my father."
Edric nodded. "Regrettably, such things are not uncommon these days, either."
"Were you ever tribal?"
"Once, many years ago, but that was in another lifetime," he replied.
"Why did you leave?"
He shrugged. "I fell in love."
"Ah." She smiled. "With an elf girl from the city? A half-elf woman, perhaps?"
"Worse than that, I fear," he said, smiling. "With a human man."
"Oh," said Cricket, with surprise. And then she chuckled.
Edric raised his eyebrows. "That amuses you?"
"No, forgive me," she said. "You misunderstand. That was not the reason I laughed."
"Then, pray, enlighten me."
"It's only that Rikka will be crushed," said Cricket. "She has had her eye on you, in case you hadn't noticed."
"Rikka is the tall one, with the dark hair and the large...?" Edric pantomimed the features.
"That's Rikka," Cricket said with a grin. "She thought you were avoiding her because she is Turin's favorite."
"Ah. Well... that was not the only reason."
Cricket giggled. "So what happened with your human man?"
"He was not similarly disposed, I fear," said Edric. "Last I heard, he married a tavernkeeper's daughter. It was a tragic case of unrequited love. I was very young and foolish in those days, and given to grand and hopeless passions. Such are the things that make a bard. What of you? Has there never been a grand passion in your life? I can't believe there have not been ample opportunities."
"Not the sort of opportunities I sought," she said. "I am still waiting."
Edric looked surprised. "Do you mean to say you've never...?"
Cricket shook her head. "No. Never."
"Well, I would not have guessed," he said. "From the sultry way you dance, I would have thought you were well versed in the arts of love."
"That is what most men would assume," Cricket replied wryly. "But it takes no great skill for a girl to be seductive, especially if she is pretty. One merely learns from watching the way men react."
"Hmmm. Do the others know?" asked Edric.