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

road, paved with limestone blocks, through the smallish town that had sprung up near the temples. In
among the round, thatched houses townsfolk and visitors strolled around or sat in the windows of one of
the many inns, and peddlers kept accosting her with trays of sweetmeats or baskets of little silver medals
and pottery souvenirs. She brushed them all off and strode on her way, skirting the main complex, too,
bustling with visitors and priests here in the summer season, and took a little-used path that ran southeast
 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html




through pine trees, all twisted and bowed down from the constant wind. In a little bay of rocky shore a
jetty stood with a ferry bobbing at anchor beside it. Beyond, a scant mile away, she could see the rise of
East Island, a long sliver of land that most visitors knew or cared nothing about.

тАЬJill, halloo!тАЭ The ferryman, a stout priest draped in an orange cloak, waved both hands at her as she led
her horses gingerly down the steep path. тАЬBack so soon?тАЭ

тАЬI am, at that. How have things been? Quiet?тАЭ

тАЬThey always are, out our way.тАЭ He grinned, revealing brown and broken teeth. тАЬHis holiness has pains
in his joints again.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩm surprised you arenтАЩt all as bent and stiff as village crones, frankly, out here in the fog.тАЭ

тАЬTrue, true. But well, weтАЩve got a bit of sun today at least. Enjoy it while we can, say I.тАЭ

Since the tide was running out, the journey was quick and easy, though the ferryman was bound to have
a harder trip rowing back by himself. Jill coaxed her horses off, left him sighing at the job ahead, and
headed across a wind-scoured meadow to a complex much smaller and plainer than those of the main
island. At the base of a low hill stood a clutter of roundhouses and a stables, shaded by a few stunted
oaks. Dust drifted and swirled over the threadbare lawns and sickly vegetable gardens. She turned her
horses over to a groom, carried her saddlebags and bedroll to a hut that did for a guest house, dumped
her gear onto the narrow cot, and decided that sheтАЩd unpacked. With a deferential bob of his head, a
servant came in, bringing her a washbasin and a pitcher of water.

тАЬHis holiness is in the library.тАЭ

тАЬIтАЩll join him there.тАЭ

After she washed up, she lingered in the silence for a moment to get her questions clear in her mind. Like
all the other pilgrims, sheтАЩd come to WmmтАЩs temple for help in making a decision, in her case about a
voyage to the far-lying islands of the Bardekian archipelago, a very major undertaking indeed in those
days. It was likely that sheтАЩd be gone for years and almost as likely that she wouldnтАЩt even find what she
was looking for, the translation of a single word that sheтАЩd found inscribed inside a ring. The word,
written in Elvish characters though it made no sense at all in any language, might have been a name or
sheer nonsense for all that she knew. What she did know, in the mysterious way that dweomermasters
have, was that the inscription would make the difference between life and death to thousands of people,
men and elves alike. When, she didnтАЩt exactly know. Someday, perhaps even soon.

She suspectedтАФbut only suspectedтАФthat the answer lay in Bardek. She was hoping that the priests of