"Jordan, Robert - Wheel of Time 10 - crossroads of twilight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

products of their mines and forges to the enemies of Arad
Doman--but always, Alsalam's orders wasted his gains.
This last order was different, though. For one thing, a Gray
Man had killed Lady Tuva trying to stop it from reaching him.
Why the Shadow might fear this order more than any other was a
mystery, yet it was all the more reason to move swiftly. Before
Alsalam reached him with another. This order opened many possi-
bilities, and he had considered every last one he could see. But the
good ones all started here, today. When small chances of success
were all that remained, you had to seize them.
A snowjay's strident cry rang out in the distance, then a second
time, a third. Cupping his hands around his mouth, Ituralde
repeated the three harsh calls. Moments later a shaggy, pale dapple
gelding appeared out of the trees, his rider in a white cloak

G L I M M E R S OF T H E P A T T E R N 19


streaked with black. Man and horse alike would have been hard to
see in the snowy forest had they been standing still. The rider
pulled up beside Ituralde. A stocky man, he wore only a single
sword, with a short blade, and there were a cased bow and a quiver
fastened to his saddle.
"Looks like they all came, my Lord," he said in his perma-
nently hoarse voice, pushing his cowl back from his head. Some-
one had tried to hang Donjel when he was young, though the
reason was lost in the years. What remained of his short-cropped
hair was iron-gray. The dark leather patch covering the socket of
his right eye was a remnant of another youthful scrape. One eye or
two, though, he was the best scout Ituralde had ever known.
"Most, anyways," he went on. "They put two rings of sentries
around the lodge, one inside the other. You can see them a mile
off, but nobody will get close without them at the lodge hearing
of it in time to get away. By the tracks, they didn't bring no more
men than you said they could, not enough to count. Course," he
added wryly, "that still leaves you outnumbered a fair bit."
Ituralde nodded. He had offered the White Ribbon, and the
men he was to meet had accepted. Three days when men pledged
under the Light, by their souls and hope of salvation, not to draw
a weapon against another or shed blood. The White Ribbon had
not been tested in this war, however, and these days some men
had strange ideas of where salvation lay. Those who called them-
selves Dragonsworn, for instance. He had always been called a
gambler, though he was not. The trick was in knowing what risks
you could take. And sometimes, in knowing which ones you had
to take.
Pulling a packet sewn into oiled silk from his boot top, he
handed it to Donjel. "If I don't reach Coron Ford in two days, take
this to my wife."
The scout tucked the packet somewhere beneath his cloak,