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

Rhodry saw no reason to disagree, especially since there was no particular harm done. Once the sun
was up and the herds all counted, only three horses were still missing, and their tracks, heading off in
three separate directions, were perfectly clear. Rhodry got himself some breakfast, then set off after one
of the stragglers.

He tracked the lost horse all that morning, until finally, close tonoon, he found the miscreant, a blood-bay
gelding with a black mane and tail, peacefully grazing beside a narrow river. Clucking under his breath,
holding out a nose bag of oats, Rhodry circled round to approach him from the front. The gelding rolled a
wary eye, then spotted the nose bag and trotted over, shoving his nose right in and allowing Rhodry to
attach a lead rope to his halter with no trouble at all.

тАЬWell, at least you decided to wait for me, eh? I think IтАЩll have a bit of a meal of my own, and then weтАЩll
go home.тАЭ

Rhodry unsaddled the horse heтАЩd brought with him, let him roll, and tethered him out to rest while he ate
griddle bread and cheese from his saddlebags and watched the river flow through its grassy banks. HeтАЩd
just finished eating when he happened to glance upstream and saw something that brought him to his feet
with an oath. About a quarter of a mile away stood a thicket of hazels: absolutely nothing unusual in that,
no, except that heтАЩd seen no such thing when he first rode up. For a moment he debated the question, but
in the end, he was sure as sure that heтАЩd looked that way and seen nothing but the long green swell of
grass stretching out to the horizon. Again, he debated; then curiosity got the better of him, and he strode
off for a look.

When he got close, the thicket certainly seemed ordinary enough, a wild tangle of stunted trees and
shoots, but someone was sitting among them on what seemed to be a rather anomalous oak stump, and
while the day was breezy, the hazels stood unmoving. In the warm sun he felt his blood run cold. Hand
on the hilt of his silver dagger, he stopped walking and peered in among the shadows. The seated figure
rose and hobbled to meet him, an old, old woman, all bent-backed and dressed in drab browns, leaning
on a stick, her white hair escaping in wisps from her black head scarf. She paused a few feet away and
looked up at him with rheumy eyes.

тАЬGood morrow, silver dagger.тАЭ She spoke in Deverrian. тАЬYouтАЩre a long, long way from the lands of
men.тАЭ

тАЬAnd so are you, good dame.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩve come looking for my daughter. TheyтАЩve stolen her, you see. IтАЩve looked and IтАЩve looked, but I
canтАЩt find her anywhere in my own country. TheyтАЩve stolen her away, my baby, my only daughter, and
now theyтАЩre going to bury her alive. Oh, theyтАЩre weaving her a winding sheet, they are, and theyтАЩll bury
her alive.тАЭ

тАЬWhat? Who will?тАЭ

She merely looked up at him with a little smile, too calculated, somehow, to be daft. The wind lifted his
hair; the hazels never shivered nor swayed. With his heart pounding like a wild thing, Rhodry began to
back away.

тАЬWhere are you going, silver dagger?тАЭ Her voice was all soft and wheedling. тАЬIтАЩve got a hire for you.тАЭ
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