"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 00 - New Spring" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

He planted his feet in the middle of the gateway. Five horsemen could have passed easily on
either side, but he meant himself for a bar, and he was. None of the guards shifted a boot, yet
every one had hand on swordhilt. All but the young man meeting Bukama's glares with his own.
'Lord Marcasiev has commanded us to keep the peace strictly,' Seroku went on, half in apology.
But no more than half. 'The city is on edge. All these tales of a man channelling are bad enough,
but there have been murders in the street this last month and more, in broad daylight, and strange
accidents. People whisper about Shadowspawn loose inside the walls.'
Lan gave a slight nod. With the Blight so close, people always muttered of Shadowspawn
when they had no other explanation, whether for a sudden death or unexpected crop failure. He
did not take up Cat Dancer's reins, though. 'We intend to rest here a few days before riding north.'
For a moment he thought Seroku was surprised. Did the man expect pledges to keep the
peace, or apologies for Bukama's behaviour? Either would shame Bukama, now. A pity if the war
ended here. Lan did not want to die killing Kandori.
His old friend turned from the young guard, who stood quivering, fists clenched at his
sides. 'All fault here is mine,' Bukama announced to the air in a flat voice. 'I had no call for what I
did. By my mother's name, I will keep Lord Marcasiev's peace. By my mother's name, I will not
draw sword inside Canluum's walls.' Seroku's jaw dropped, and Lan hid his own shock with
difficulty.
Hesitating only a moment, the scar-faced officer stepped aside, bowing and touching
swordhilt then heart. 'There is always welcome for Lan Mandragoran Dai Shan,' he said formally.
'And for Bukama Marenellin, the hero of Salmarna. May you both know peace, one day.'
'There is peace in the mother's last embrace,' Lan responded with equal formality,
touching hilt and heart.
'May she welcome us home, one day,' Seroku finished. No one really wished for the
grave, but that was the only place to find peace in the Borderlands.
Face like iron, Bukama strode ahead pulling Sun Lance and the packhorse after him, not
waiting for Lan. This was not well.
Canluum was a city of stone and brick, its paved streets twisting around tall hills. The
Aiel invasion had never reached the Borderlands, but the ripples of war always diminished trade
a long way from any battles, and now that fighting and winter were both finished, the city had
filled with people from every land. Despite the Blight practically on the city's doorstep,
gemstones mined in the surrounding hills made Canluum wealthy. And, strangely enough, some
of the finest clockmakers anywhere. The cries of hawkers and shopkeepers shouting their wares
rose above the hum of the crowd even away from the terraced market squares. Colourfully-
dressed musicians, or jugglers, or tumblers performed at every intersection. A handful of
lacquered carriages swayed through the mass of people and wagons and carts and barrows, and
horses with gold- or silver-mounted saddles and bridles picked their way through the throng, their
riders' garb embroidered as ornately as the animals' tack and trimmed with fox or marten or
ermine. Hardly a foot of street was left bare anywhere. Lan even saw several Aes Sedai, women
with serene, ageless faces. Enough people recognized them on sight that they created eddies in
the crowd, swirls to clear a way. Respect or caution, awe or fear, there were sufficient reasons for
a king to step aside for a sister. Once you might have gone a year without seeing an Aes Sedai
even in the Borderlands, but the sisters seemed to be everywhere since their old Amyrlin Seat
died a few months earlier. Maybe it was those tales of a man channelling; they would not let him
run free long, if he existed. Lan kept his eyes away from them. The hadori could be enough to
attract the interest of a sister seeking a Warder.
Shockingly, lace veils covered many women's faces. Thin lace, sheer enough to reveal
that they had eyes, and no one had ever heard of a female Myrddraal, but Lan had never expected
law to yield to mere fashion. Next they would take down the oil-lamps lining the streets and let
the nights grow black. Even more shocking than the veils, Bukama looked right at some of those