"P. C. Hodgell - Kencyrath Anthology 2 - Book 04 - Blood and Ivory - A Tapestry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hodgell P. C)Two-thirds of the Kencyrath had fallen that night and stayed in the shadows to serve their dire master until, one by one, he devoured their souls, reaped for him by the Dream-Weaver. That was the price of his immortality, paid by others. But these Kencyr had escaped, following their new Highlord, Glendar, into this new world, Rathillien."A watch we will keep" they had said,"and our honor someday avenge. Alas for the greed of a man and the deceit of a woman, that we should come to this!" Three thousand years ago. One hundred and fifty generations. Now here they hung moldering in a dark hall, as long as thread clung to thread and their names were remembered. Ganth flinched. Starting out of the shadows in front of him was a tapestry that had given him and many another of his house nightmares since childhood. Perhaps that was its purpose. Although one of the oldest banners in the hall, it was always hung outermost, "to warn." "Of w-what?" Ganth had once asked his grandmother, Kinzi. "Of heart's desire," she had said. "Of passions strong enough to break the soul. We are a passionate house, and not always wise." Most of the dead were portrayed with hands lowered in benediction. This woman, however, had raised them to cover her face. Blood ran down between her long fingers, each one tipped with an ivory claw, over gaunt cheeks, into a mouth that gaped in a silent scream. Everyone knew that insanity ran in the Highlord's house. Most blamed it on the Shanir taint, the curse of the Old Blood, that carried with it both power and madness. This lady had been Shanir, allied by her traits to That-Which-Destroys, the Third Face of God. Power and madness, madness and . . . Stop it,Ganth thought. Defiantly, he touched the woman's frayed cheek. His fingers came away wet. The tapestrywas bleeding. As he backed away, he saw that many more were as well. Blood trickled down their sodden threads and dripped, stealthily, onto the floor. The room brimmed with its furtive patter. "Ancestors preserve me," he murmured, and turned. |
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