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

to the gods. Rhodry stood well back toward the edge of the weeping crowd. Although heтАЩd traveled with
the Westfolk long enough to witness several cremations, still they disturbed him, used as he was to
burying his kin and friends in the hidden dark of the earth with things theyтАЩd loved in life tucked round
them. He found himself moving slowly backward, almost without thinking, easing himself out of the
crowd, taking a step here, allowing someone to stand in front of him there, until at last he stood alone,
some distance away.

The night wind lashed at the lake and howled round the trees like another mourner. Rhodry shivered
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with grief as much as the cold, because she had indeed been so young, and so very beautiful. Although
heтАЩd never known her well, he would miss her presence in the alar. Among the Westfolk, that last
remnant of a race hovering on the edge of extinction, where the loss of any individual was a tragedy, the
death of a woman who might have borne more children was an appalling blow of fate. In the center of the
crowd the women howled in a burst of keening that the men answered, half a chant, half a sob. Rhodry
turned and ran, plunged into the silent camp, raced through the tents and out the other side, ran and ran
along the lakeshore until at last he tripped and went sprawling. For a long time he lay in the tall grass and
gasped for breath. When he sat up the fire was far away, a golden flower blooming on the horizon. The
wind-struck water lapped and murmured nearby.

тАЬYou coward,тАЭ he said to himself, and in Deverrian. тАЬYouтАЩd best get back.тАЭ

The alar would expect him, the banadarтАЩs second in command, to be present at the wake. He got up,
pulling down his shirt, automatically running one hand along his belt to make sure that his sword was still
there, and of course his silver daggerтАФwhich was gone. Rhodry swore and dropped to his knees to hunt
for it. It must have slipped out of its sheath, he supposed, when heтАЩd tripped and fallen flat on his face. In
the starry dark his half-elven sight could make out little: the blacker shapes of crushed-down grass
against the black shadows of grass still standing. On his hands and knees he crisscrossed the area,
fumbling through and patting down the grass, pulling it aside, hoping for the gleam of silver, praying that
the wretched thing hadnтАЩt somehow or other slid into the lake. A gaggle of gnomes appeared to help,
though he doubted if they truly understood him when he tried to explain what he was doing. Finally he
gave up in disgust and sat back on his heels. In a flurry like a whirlwind the gnomes all disappeared.

тАЬRhodry, give me the ring, and IтАЩll give the dagger back.тАЭ

The voiceтАФher voice, all soft and seductiveтАФspoke from behind him. Swearing, he got to his feet and
spun around to see her, standing some five feet away. She seemed to stand in a column of moonlight, as
if the air around her were a tunnel to some other world where the moon was at her full, and she was
wearing elven clothes, the embroidered tunic and leather trousers in which heтАЩd first seen her. Her
honey-colored hair, though, hung free, a cascade over her shoulders. In one hand she held his silver
dagger, blade up.

тАЬThe ring, Rhodry Maelwaedd. Give me the rose ring, and you shall have your dagger back.тАЭ

тАЬSuppose I just take it from you?тАЭ

She laughed and disappeared, suddenly and completely gone. When he swore, he heard her laugh