"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 09 - The Red Wyvern" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

Gwerbert Aberwyn ruled in our favour in Malover, my publishers and I hoped that the matter had ended
at last, but alas, our opponent saw fit to appeal to the High King himself. After an ennervating journey by
coach and barge on the part of myself and a representative of my publisher, we settled into a suite at a
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public guesthouse in Dun Deverry and filed our counter-suit. While we waited for our proceedings to be
summoned, I once again applied myself to the craft for which I am better suited than legal wrangling, that
of writing novels.

Some months later, we are still waiting. Let us hope that the High KingтАЩs courts take up and dispose of
this matter soon.




PROLOGUE

Winter in a Far Distant Land



Some say that all the worlds of the many-splendoured universe lie nested one within the other like the
layers of an onion. I say to you that they all lie braided and wound round and that no man nor woman
either can map all the roads of their twisting.

The Secret Book of Cadwallon the Druid



Domnall Breich knew the hills around Loch Ness well enough to know himself lost. The hunting accident
that had killed his horse and separated him from his companions had happened some two miles straight
south, or at least, in that direction and at that distance as closely as he could reckon. By now he should
have reached the frozen dirt road that led back to the village and safety. He stopped, peering through the
rising mists at the snow-streaked valley, stippled here and there with pines. The gathering dark of the
winterтАЩs shortest day shrouded Ben Bulben, the one landmark that might guide him through the mists.
When he glanced at the sky, he realized that it was going to snow.

тАШMother Mary, forgive my sins. Tonight IтАЩll be seeing your son in his glory.тАЩ

They always said that freezing was as pleasant a death as any, more like falling asleep to wake to fire
and sleet and then the candlelight that would guide you to the gates of Heaven or Hell. Domnall felt no
fear, only surprise, that a man like him would die not in battle or bloodfeud but in the snow, lost like a
lame sheep, but then the priests always said a man could never tell the end God had in store for him.

Ahead against the grey of clouds, the western sky gleamed dull red at the horizon. When he faced the
glow and looked round, he saw off to his right, at the edge of his vision, a tall tree. He turned and sighted
upon it. His last hope lay in keeping a straight course toward the north, the general direction of the loch,