"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 04 - The Shadow Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

called the Caralain Grass. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to
the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it wasa beginning.

North and west the wind blew beneath early morning sun, over endless miles of rolling grass and
far-scattered thickets, across the swift-flowing River Luan, past the broken-topped fang of
Dragonmount, mountain of legend towering above the slow swells of the rolling plain, looming so high that
clouds wreathed it less than halfway to the smoking peak. Dragonmount, where the Dragon had died тАФ
and with him, some said, the Age of Legends тАФ where prophecy said he would be born again. Or had
been. North and west, across the villages of Jualdhe and Darein and Alindaer, where bridges like stone
lacework arched out to the Shining Walls, the great white walls of what many called the greatest city in
the world. Tar Valon. A city just touched by the reaching shadow of Dragonmount each evening.

Within those walls Ogier-made buildings well over two thousand years old seemed to grow out of the
ground rather than having been built, or to be the work of wind and water rather than that of even the
fabled hands of Ogier stone-masons. Some suggested birds taking flight, or huge shells from distant seas.
Soaring towers, flared or fluted or spiraled, stood connected by bridges hundreds of feet in the air, often
without rails. Only those long in Tar Valon could avoid gaping like country folk who had never been off
the farm.

Greatest of those towers, the White Tower dominated the city, gleaming like polished bone in the sun.
The Wheel of Time turns around Tar Valon , so people said in the city,and Tar Valon turns around
the Tower . The first sight travelers had of Tar Valon, before their horses came in view of the bridges,
before their river boat captains sighted the island, was the Tower reflecting the sun like a beacon. Small
wonder then that the great square surrounding the walled Tower grounds seemed smaller than it was
under the massive TowerтАЩs gaze, the people in it dwindling to insects. Yet the White Tower could have
been the smallest in Tar Valon, the fact that it was the heart of Aes Sedai power would still have
overawed the island city.

Despite their numbers, the crowd did not come close to filling the square. Along the edges people
jostled each other in a milling mass, all going about their dayтАЩs business, but closer to the Tower grounds
there were ever fewer people, until a band of bare paving stones at least fifty paces wide bordered the
tall white walls. Aes Sedai were respected and more in Tar Valon, of course, and the Amyrlin Seat ruled
the city as she ruled the Aes Sedai, but few wanted to be closer to Aes Sedai power than they had to.
There was a difference between being proud of a grand fireplace in your hall and walking into the flames.

A very few did go closer, to the broad stairs that led up to the Tower itself, to the intricately carved
doors wide enough for a dozen people abreast. Those doors stood open, welcoming. There were always
some people in need of aid or an answer they thought only Aes Sedai could give, and they came from far
as often as near, from Arafel and Ghealdan, from Saldaea and Illian. Many would find help or guidance
inside, though often not what they had expected or hoped for.

Min kept the wide hood of her cloak pulled up, shadowing her face in its depths. In spite of the warmth
of the day, the garment was light enough not to attract comment, not on a woman so obviously shy. And
a good many people were shy when they went to the Tower. There was nothing about her to attract
notice. Her dark hair was longer than when she was last in the Tower, though still not quite to her
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