"Sterling E. Lanier - Hieros 01 - Hiero's Journey" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lanier Sterling E)

than strong feeling that loosing it would bring a pack of devils down upon
them from every point of the compass. But Gorm saved him the trouble. Looking
shrewdly up at Hiero for a moment, the bear bent down and swept aside some
leaves with his curiously delicate paws. Exposing smooth earth, with one long
claw he made a line and pointed it with an arrow, just as a man might. The
line led on the way they were going. On both sides of the line and behind it,
Gorm carefully scratched numerous small circles or spirals. Irresistibly, the
priest was reminded of the spiral, interwoven symbol on the cloak of the
enemy. The message was plain. Peril lay behind them and on either side, but
despite the fact that they were following the sinister figure of the bald man,
less danger lay on that route than on any other. The bear looked up and Hiero
nodded. Gorm swept leaves over his artwork and started off again with no more
ado. The man nudged his great mount, and Klootz followed obediently in the
bear's wake.
On his back, the rider turned over in his mind the way the bear had reacted,
ever since he had first appeared. Why, the creature was human! The Dam People
were thought to be as intelligent as people, although with a different outlook
on life. Many of the Leemutes, of course, were as clever as men, although
altogether malign and dangerous to life and spirit. But here was another
animal species rising to humanity. This
THE SIGN OF THE FISHHOOK 19
would make a fine problem for the Abbey theologians, Hiero thought wryly. They
still could not agree on the spiritual status of the Dam People, and a fresh
species of creature for whom there was no scriptural precedent would start the
doctrinal pot boiling all over again.
The sunlight under the big trees was fading fast, but Klootz could see in full
dark like a cat, and presumably the bear could also, so that Hiero felt no
particular concern. He himself could see as well as many of the wild things
when the light was dim, a result of a childhood spent in the forest as well as
the cultivated ability of a trained woodsman. He was in no hurry to make camp,
not being particularly tired, and he badly wanted to get away from the
artificial silence of the wood, the zone of mental oppression which he felt so
strongly.
For a mile or two, the little party moved under a pure forest of the great
pines, the faint crackle of the deep-banked needles the only sign that bear
and morse were passing. The light was very dim now, but an occasional ray of
sunshine still broke through a gap in the foliage far above and illumined a
patch of forest floor or a small clump of fern.
Suddenly, with no warning, Gorm was gone. One moment, he had been padding ten
feet in front, the next he vanished. Klootz checked, his big ears lifting and
his great nostrils flaring as he sought for a scent of some kind. His rider
reached smoothly for the bolstered thrower strapped to his saddle, at the same
time looking keenly about. Is this treachery? His mind raced. The bearтАФhad he
been a friend, or was this the sign of the Fishhook being revealed, a false
friend and a traitorous guide? The thrower was halfway from its scabbard and
lying across the pommel of the saddle when the silence was broken by a voice.
Musical and deep, the note of a trained doctor, it rang under the arched
branches from their left, speaking in perfect Metz.
"An ugly beast and a still uglier rider. Who follows on the tracks of S'nerg?
Is this the prey we have sought all day?"