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

LetтАЩs let them go on wallowing in their error, shall we?тАЭ

тАЬWhat shall I do? S-s-saddle and c-c-comb his horse on the morrow? I will and gladly if itтАЩll help.тАЭ

тАЬToo obvious,тАЭ Caradoc said. тАЬWeтАЩll just go on like we were doing, Your Highness, if itтАЩs all the same
to you. Seems to have worked splendidly so far.тАЭ

тАЬSo it has.тАЭ Nevyn thought for a moment. тАЬDo you think I should go take a look at our Maddyn?тАЭ

тАЬLeave him alone with his grief, my lord. ThereтАЩs naught any of us can do to heal that wound, much as it
aches my heart. Ah, by the hells, he knew Aethan these twenty years at least, more maybe, ever since he
was a young cub and fresh to a warband.тАЭ

тАЬThatтАЩs a hard kind of friend to lose, then, and youтАЩre right, IтАЩll leave him be.тАЭ

For a few minutes they sat there silently, looking into the flames, which swarmed with
salamandersтАФthough of course, only Nevyn could see them. Now that heтАЩd rolled his dice in plain sight,
he saw no reason to try to lie about his score, and Wildfolk wandered all over the camp, peering at every
man and into every barge. Later, after the camp was asleep, he used the dying fire to contact the priests
in Cerrmor. They needed to know that the one true king was only some three days ride away and that his
enemies had tried to slay him upon the road.

2.



The year 843. We discovered that Bellyra, the eldest daughter of Glyn the Second, King in Cerrmor,
was born upon the night of Samaen. The High Priest declared it an omen. Just as she was born on the
night that lies between two worlds, and thus partook of the nature of both, so she was destined to be the
mother of two kingdoms. Yet some within the temple grumbled and said that no good thing could come
from such a birth that bridged the worlds of the living and of the dead, because she would belong to the
Otherlands and only be a real woman on Samaen itself. She was, or so these impious traitors said, the
lass who wasnтАЩt there . . .

The Holy Chronicles of Lughcarn
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In the very heart of Dun Cerrmor, at the center of all the earthworks and the rings of stone walls and the
vast looming circles of joined brochs and towers, lay a garden. Although it was only about thirty yards
across, it sported a tiny stream with an equally tiny bridge, a rolling stretch of lawn, some rosebushes,
and an ancient willow tree, all gnarled and drooping, that, or so they said, was planted by the ancient
sorcerer who once had served King Glyn the First, back at the very beginning of the civil wars. By hiking
up her dresses and watching where she put her feet, Bellyra could climb a good way up into this tree and
settle into a comfortable fork where the main trunk provided a backrest. In the spring and summer, when
the leaves were draped down like the fringe on a Bardek shawl, no one could see her there, and she
would often sit for hours, watching the sun glint on the stream and thinking about the history of Dun
Cerrmor and her clan, and indeed, at times, about that legendary sorcerer himself.