"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 02 - Darkspell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)
тАШThen here I am.тАЩ
тАШExcellent. I have a present for one of your sons, young bard, for sons youтАЩll have. When each is
born, consult with someone who knows the dweomer. TheyтАЩll be able to tell which one receives the gift.тАЩ
When he handed over the pouch and the ring, his eyes seemed more blue than black.
тАШMy thanks, good sir, but who are you?тАЩ
The stranger merely smiled, then mounted his horse and rode off without another word.
Over the intervening years, Devaberiel had learned nothing more about the ring or its mysterious giver,
not from sage nor dweomer-master. When each of his two sons was born, heтАЩd dutifully consulted with
the dweomer-folk, but each time the omens had been wrong to pass the gift on. Now, however, heтАЩd
gained a third son. Holding the ring, he walked to the door of the tent and looked out. A cold, gray
drizzle fell over the camp, and the wind was brisk. He was going to have an uncomfortable journey, but
he was determined to find the dweomerwoman who seemed to have the most affinity for the ring. His
curiosity was not going to let him rest until he found out if it belonged to young Rhodry ap Devaberiel,
who still thought himself a Maelwaedd.
Driven by a bitter-cold wind, the rains slashed down hard in the gray streets of Cerrmor. There was
little for Jill and Rhodry to do but hole up like foxes in their inn by the north gate. Since they had enough
coin to stay warm and fed all winter, Jill felt as rich and happy as a lord, but Rhodry fell into the black
thing. He would sit in the tavern room for hours, slumped down and staring into a tankard of ale while he
brooded over his dishonor. Nothing Jill could do or say would rouse him out of it. Eventually, although it
ached her heart to do it, she let him have his silence.
At least at night, when they went up to their chamber, she could use kisses and caresses to bring him
round. After their lovemaking he would be happy for a while, talking with her as they lay tight in each
otherтАЩs arms. When he drifted off to sleep, often she would stay awake and look at him as if he were a
puzzle to be studied out. Rhodry was a tall man, heavily muscled but built straight from shoulder to hip,
with long, sensitive hands that hinted at his elven blood. He had the raven-dark hair and cornflower blue
eyes so typical of Eldidd men, but there was nothing typical about his good looks. His features were so
perfect that he would have looked girlish if it werenтАЩt for the various small scars and battle-nicks on his
face. Since sheтАЩd met some of the Elcyion Lacar, Jill knew that they too were as handsome. She would
wonder over that trace of elven blood in his clan, which had, or so Nevyn assured her, merely all come
out in him, a throwback. Logically, it seemed improbable.
One night her long pondering brought her the answer to the problem. Every now and then, Jill had true
dreams, which were actually dweomer-visions beyond the control of her conscious mind. Generally they
came, as this one did, when sheтАЩd been thinking over a problem for some time. On a night when the rain
beat upon the shutters and the wind howled around the inn, she fell asleep in RhodryтАЩs arms and dreamt
of the Elcyion Lacar. It seemed that she flew above the western grasslands on a day when the sun broke
through clouds only to vanish again. Far below her in a green sea of grass stood a cluster of elven tents,
glowing like many-colored jewels.
Suddenly she stood on the ground among them. Bundled in a red cloak, a tall man strode past her and
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