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

She was sure, though, from that dim memory, that sheтАФor rather her previous incarnation, because
sheтАЩd been born into a male body in that cycleтАФhad been present at the forging of the rose ring. During
that life, as the warrior known as Branoic, sheтАЩd ridden with a very important band of soldiers, the true
kingтАЩs personal guard in the civil warsтАФ that much, she could remember.

What sheтАЩd forgotten was that Nevyn had been not only present but very much an important actor in
those events, perhaps the most important figure of all. There was his name, written on practically every
page. As she read the composed speeches the chronicler had put into his mouth, she found herself
shaking her head in irritation: he never would have sounded so stiff, so formal! All at once, she realized
that she was crying. The flood of long-buried grief, not only for Nevyn but for other friends her soul had
forgotten this two hundred years and more, seemed to work a dweomer of its own. Rather than merely
reading the chroniclerтАЩs dry account, she found herself remembering the isolated lake fort of Dun Drwloc,
where Nevyn had tutored the young prince who was destined to become king, and the long ride that the
silver daggers had taken to bring the prince to Cerrmor and his destiny. All night she stood there, reading
some parts of the tale, remembering others, until the sheer fascination of the puzzle buried her grief again.

past



The year 843. In Cerrmor that winter, near the shortest day, there were double rings round the moon for
two nights running. On the third night King Glyn died in agony after drinking a goblet of mead . . .
 Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html




The Holy Chronicles of Lughcarn



The morning dawned clear if cold, with a snap of winter left in the wind, but towardnoonthe wind died
and the day turned warm. As he led his horse and the princeтАЩs out of the stables, Branoic was whistling at
the prospect of getting free of the fortress for a few hours. After a long winter shut up in Dun Drwloc, he
felt as if the high stone walls had marched in and made everything smaller.

тАЬGoing out for a ride, lad?тАЭ

Branoic swirled round to see the princeтАЩs councillor, Nevyn, standing in the cobbled ward next to a
broken wagon. Although the silver dagger couldnтАЩt say why, Nevyn always startled him. For one thing,
for all that he had a shock of snow-white hair and a face as wrinkled as burlap, the old man strode
around as vigorously as a young warrior. For another, his ice-blue eyes seemed to bore into a manтАЩs
soul.

тАЬWe are, sir,тАЭ Branoic said, with a bob of his head that would just pass for a humbler gesture. тАЬIтАЩm just
bringing out the princeтАЩs horse, too, you see. WeтАЩve all been stable-bound too long this winter.тАЭ

тАЬTrue enough. But ride carefully, will you? Guard the prince well.тАЭ

тАЬOf course, sir. We always do.тАЭ