"Elizabeth Haydon - Symphony of Ages - Threshold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Haydon Elizabeth)

The stoicism that had beset the faces of the travelers seemed to wane somewhat whenever they returned
to the capital city of the westlands, resolving into a quiet communal dismay. With each turn of the cycle,
the shining jewel of the western seacoast looked more shabby, more broken, a desolate haven for ghosts
and vermin that had once been a glistening city built by a visionary king centuries before.

Upon reaching the dry fountain in the square, the group dismounted. SevirymтАЩs feet landed on the
cobblestones first, followed by the muffled thuds from the othersтАЩ boots.

тАЬDamnation,тАЭ he murmured, looking up at the place where the statue of that long-dead king riding a
hippogriff had once towered over the mosaic inlaid in the fountainтАЩs bed. The figure had been battered
savagely, the formerly outstretched wings of the kingтАЩs mount shattered into marble shards that lay
scattered in the dry basin. The statueтАЩs stone head had been smashed from its shoulders and now lay in
the street just outside the capstones, the pupil-less eyes staring blindly at the hazy sky.

Jarmon had given a lifetimeтАЩs service to the descendants of that king. He waded through the dust and
gravel to the statueтАЩs base and numbly brushed the grit from the inscription:

AN EMPIRE BUILT BY SLAVES CRUMBLES IN THE DESPOTтАЩS LIFETIME;
ACITY BUILT IN FREEDOM STANDS A THOUSAND YEARS.

тАЬFell short by half, Your Majesty,тАЭ the elderly guard said softly, running his callused finger over the
letters.

тАЬWhat was the purpose in this?тАЭ demanded Sevirym of no one in particular. тАЬWhat was the need? Did
they not have enough to concern them that they had time forthis ? Is there not enough destruction coming
that they needed more? Bloodyanimals .тАЭ

тАЬPeace,тАЭ said Hector quietly. тАЬIt is but a statue. It doesnтАЩt matter now. The ideal remains.тАЭ

Sevirym choked back a bitter laugh and seized the reins of his mount, leading the animal away from the
dusty fountain.

тАЬMust be hard on you westlanders, riding this continuous loop,тАЭ Anais said after a moment, once Jarmon
and Cantha had followed Sevirym away from the town square and were now combing through the
remains of their assigned streets. тАЬAt least those of us who dwelt to the east beyond the Great River are
spared watching the gradual destruction of our homelands.тАЭ

Hector said nothing but clicked to his roan. He and Anais fell into routine, joining the others in their
search through the empty city.

He walked numbly past the abandoned shops where as a child he had delighted to linger, maneuvering
his horse around the mounds of broken glass and grit that had once been the window of the
Confectionery; the shop had produced baked goods so exceptional that the populace believed them to
be imbued with magic. He allowed himself to linger again, one last time, trying to recall the scent of the
flaky pastries, the sight of the castles rendered entirely in cookies and sweetmeats, the chocolate carvings
of winged horses and dragons with strawberry scales, but he could only see the hollowed shell of the
building with patches of light on the floor sinking in from the holes in the roof, could smell only the odor of
pitch and oil and destruction.

How long he had stood, staring futilely back into the past, he did not know, but when AnaisтАЩs voice