"Simon Hawke - Dark Sun - Tribe of One 03 - The Nomad" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hawke Simon)

"As you command, my lord," said Veela, bowing as she backed out of the chamber. The heavy, carved
wooden door closed behind her of its own accord.
*****
The light carriage lurched up the rutted trail leading through the foothills of the Barrier Mountains.
Seated in the shade of its canopy, Veela watched the trail carefully as the driver urged the kank forward up
the slope. It had been many years since she had been here last, many years since she had even left the city,
and she was concerned that she might not remember the way. Yet, even after all this time, here and there,
details of the trail looked familiar. She had recalled the wide, sweeping bend in the trail as it circled around
a large rock outcropping and ran parallel to the slope for a short distance before it circled around again and
continued on an incline through the canyon.
About midway through the canyon, she recalled, there should be a path leading off to the left, into the
trees. She remembered that it was difficult to spot, and so she kept a careful watch for it. Nevertheless, she
missed it, and the carriage had to turn around- no easy feat on such a narrow trail. She had to get out while
the driver backed the kank up, slowly pushing the small carriage off the trail and up the slope, then forward
slightly. Swearing to himself, he repeated the process twice more before he could turn the rig around. Veela
got back in, and this time they proceeded at an even slower pace as she carefully scanned the slope for the
path. She almost missed it again.
"Stop!" she called out to the driver. As the carriage stopped, she got out and walked back several
yards. Yes, there it was, almost impossible to see, it was so heavily overgrown. Merely a narrow footpath,
scarcely more than a run left by an animal on its habitual daily trek. There was no possibility of proceeding
any other way than on foot.
"Wait here till I return," she told the driver, and started up the path. She used the power bestowed
upon her by the Shadow King to clear the way as she walked up the slope. The underbrush that had
overgrown the path withered and died before her as she went.
The path followed a serpentine course up the steep slope, bending to the left, then to the right, then to
the left again through the trees and around rock out-croppings as it wound its way up to the summit of the
hill. After a while, she passed the tree line and emerged between two boulders into a clear area near the
summit, covered only by rocks and scrub brush, short mountain grass and wildflowers. She had reached the
summit of the foothills, and the mountains beyond loomed above her. The path continued up the steep
incline for a short distance and then gradually leveled off as it curved around some rocks.
As she passed the boulders, she glanced down and saw the lower slopes of the foothills, one of the
very few places on Athas, aside from the forest ridge of the Ringing Mountains, where green and growing
things could still be found. In the crescent-shaped valley below was the city of Nibenay, and in the distance
to the southwest lay the city of Gulg. And all around, as far as the eye could see, was barren desert.
Directly to the south, stretching out like a gleaming ocean of crystal, was the Great Ivory Plain, a vast, wide
sea of salt. It was a spectacular view, and for a moment, she simply stood there, catching her breath and
taking it all in. Then, in the distance, she heard the unmistakable sound of wood being chopped.
She continued on, entering the not-quite-level clearing at the top. Before her was a small cabin made
entirely of rough-hewn logs. Behind it was a smaller building, a shed for storage, and some animal pens.
The cabin was otherwise completely isolated. Some smoke curled up from the stone chimney.
As Veela came closer, following the path that led around to the front of the cabin, she could smell the
pleasant aroma of burning pagafa wood. There was a small covered porch attached to the cabin, with some
crudely built wood furniture, but no sign of the wood chopper. The chopping sounds had ceased. In front of
the porch, she saw a large pagafa stump with an axe embedded in it, and beside the stump, a pile of freshly
chopped firewood. She looked around. There was no sign of anyone. She was about to climb the four
wooden steps to the porch when a deep, gravelly voice suddenly spoke behind her.
"I thought I smelled templar." She whirled around. The man standing directly behind her, no more than
four feet away, had suddenly appeared as if from out of nowhere, moving silent as a ghost. He was tall and
massively built, with a full head of long gray hair that fell down past his shoulders.
He had a thick gray beard, and his face was lined with age and well seasoned by the weather. He had