"Mercedes Lackey - Owl Mage 1 - Owlflight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

over to him as an apprentice; Justyn had told them that he had the Mage-Gift, and that it had to be
trained or it would be dangerous. Mum and Dad only laughed at him and told him he was a silly old
fool if he thought a boy could be dangerous to anything or anybody. But the villagers had been only
too ready to believe in the danger, and only too happy to get him disposed of - and more than once
thereтАЩd been intimations that тАЬdisposed ofтАЭ is exactly what heтАЩd be if they detected any connection
between him and these weird times. They told him then, and they continued to tell him frequently, that he
should be grateful to them for seeing to his care, and for persuading his parents to leave him behind on
that last trapping run. They never stopped telling him how grateful he should be, in fact. There was even a
hint behind it all that it was a good thing that his parents had been lost - because now he, Darian, would
no longer find his own life at risk in the Forest.
 The tears welled up again.
Needless to say, he wasnтАЩt grateful.
I helped them! They said I did! When they set the traps, I was the one up in a tree,
watching and listening for danger - when they needed an extra set of hands, I was right there, and
when they were tired, I was the one who was still fresh enough to tend to dinner or build the fire
up. Maybe that hadnтАЩt been true back when he was just a little boy, but it had been the past couple of
years, and there was no denying it. TheyтАЩd been able to concentrate on the work at hand instead of
having to keep one eye on the work and one watching for peril or approaching weather.
And - maybe - that was why they hadnтАЩt come back.
That was the stuff his nightmares had been made of for the last year. He kept thinking of times
when heтАЩd been there when theyтАЩd needed him - when they needed a third set of hands on the rope in a
blizzard, when heтАЩd spotted large carnivores stalking the camp - even when heтАЩd been up a tree and had
seen the signs of a bad storm coming up without warning. Had a pack of some magic-twisted horrors
ambushed them, attacking them until finally their defenses were all gone? Had a terrible storm
overwhelmed them? Had it been simply accident, the falling branch, the hidden crevice, the slip in the
dark that left one or both of them crippled and helpless? Was that why they didnтАЩt return? Because
theyтАЩd counted on his eyes and ears to warn them, his extra hands on a knife or a bow to help fight off
danger, and he hadnтАЩt been there? HeтАЩd never been bad with a knife, and he was even good with a short
bow . . . could it have made the crucial difference?
Or was it something else? Had they been caught by bandits, eager to steal their precious furs?
Had there been an avalanche, or had one or both of them fallen through the ice while crossing a river?
Horror of horrors - had they been caught in a Change-Circle and Changed themselves? Were they out
there even now, rooted to the spot as half-human trees, or wandering in some shape not even he would
recognize?
He couldnтАЩt shake the conviction that if he had been along, they would have all come back to the
village as usual. Somehow, some way, his mere presence would have made the difference. He knew
better than to try and tell this to anyone in the village; heтАЩd tried once to tell Justyn, and the old wizard
had told him that he was overreacting, that whatever had happened to his parents had nothing to do with
him. After that, he had kept his guilt and fears to himself.
But he couldnтАЩt help but think that if he had been along, his parents would have had that extra set
of hands and eyes that would have kept them safe, and brought them through whatever it was that took
them away.
And that was what made it all the more horrible.
Here, in this refuge, away from the fools who didnтАЩt understand, he could let his real feelings out.
Why? he cried in silent anguish, face turned up to the canopy of leaves, both fists grinding against
the back of the tree, Why did you leave me? Why didnтАЩt you take me with you? Why did you leave
me all alone?
His body shook with silent sobs, and tears coursed down his cheeks, soaking his patched and
much-mended shirt. It was too small in the arms for him by far, but he wouldnтАЩt let anyone take it from
him, nor would he give up the leather vest that went with it. She had made him the shirt, and he had cut