"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 06 - A Time Of Omens" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

Out of curiosity and not much more, Rhodry kept an eye out for the woman all during the rest of that
day. Although he described her to a number of friends, no one remembered her or would admit to
knowing her, and she should have stood out. Among the People, dark blond hair like hers, with a
honey-colored or yellowish tinge, was very rare, enough so that she might have had some human blood in
her veins. Once, when he was hauling water for the cooks, he dodged between two tents and saw her,
walking away in the opposite direction, but though he called out, she merely glanced over her shoulder
and hurried on.

He didnтАЩt see her again until late that night, long after the feast was over. On the opposite side of the
camp from the herds some of the People had cleared a space for dancing by cutting the long grass down
to a reasonably even stubble. By torchlight the musicians gathered off to one side, a rank of harpers
backed by drummers and a couple of those elven bundled-reed flutes that produce drones. The People
danced in long lines, heads up, backs straight, arms up and rigid while their feet leapt and scissored in
intricate steps. Sometimes the lines held their position; at others they snaked fast and furiously around the
meadow until everyone collapsed laughing on the cool grass. On and on the dancing went, till the older
and less energetic began to drop out, Rhodry among them.

Out of breath and sweating, he flung himself down near a tall standing torch, far enough away from the
music to hear himself think, and watched the dance spiral past. A pack of gray gnomes flopped into
manifestation around him and lay on their backs, panting in imitation of their elder brothers. When Rhodry
laughed, they all sat up and grinned, then began pushing and shoving each other to see who would sit on
his lap. All at once one of them drew his lips back from his teeth and pointed at something behind
Rhodry; the rest leapt up and snarled; they all disappeared. Rhodry slewed round where he sat to see the
honey-haired woman standing behind him. In the torchlight her eyes seemed made of beaten gold.

тАЬAnd a good eve to you, my lady.тАЭ He rose to his knees. тАЬWonтАЩt you join me?тАЭ

She smiled, then knelt down facing him rather than sitting companionably. For a long moment she studied
him in a silence as deep and unreadable as the night sky. He was struck all over again by the sense she
gave of distance, as if she were a painted image on a temple wall, looking down upon him from a height.
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In her presence the camp seemed far, far behind him.

тАЬUh, my name is Rhodry, son of Devaberiel. May I have the honor of knowing yours?тАЭ

тАЬYou may not, truly.тАЭ Much to his shock, she spoke in Deverrian. тАЬMy nameтАЩs not for the giving, though
IтАЩll trade it for that little ring you have.тАЭ

Reflexively he looked down at his right hand, where he wore on the third finger a silver band, about a
third of an inch wide and graved with roses.

тАЬWell, now, you have my apologies, but IтАЩll not surrender that, not even to please a lady as beautiful as
you.тАЭ

тАЬItтАЩs made of dwarven silver, did you know?тАЭ