"Elizabeth Lynn - Chronicles of Tornor 2 - The Dancers of Arun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lynn Elizabeth A)

here."
"Unlike Paula," the old man would answer, "I like it here."
Kerris pushed open the door with his shoulder. Josen stood at
the window, sniffing the air. He had opened one of the windows and
stood looking out the crack at the view. Kerris joined him. The
watchtower had been built three hundred years back by Torrel, fourth
lord of Tornor Keep, "so that he might see the Anhard raiders before
their kings gave the order to attack." There was no military use for
a tower anymore; there had been peace between Arun and Anhard for a
hundred years. But the windows had never been touched, except to have
new glass placed in the frames. They still looked only north.
The mountains' gray bulk dominated the landscape. The lower
terraces of the peaks were stippled with green. Kerris had heard
(from the merchants, who went everywhere) that in the west there were
taller mountains, and that they were red, not gray. He doubted he
would get to see them. The farthest he'd ever been across the steppe
was half the distance to Cloud Keep.
He had been born in the south, in a small village south of the
lower edge of Galbareth. Paula had told him that often enough. But he
did not remember the south, nor the ride north, nor the raid on the
caravan in which his mother had been killed. It was in that raid that
the blow of a curved Asech blade had taken off his right arm just
below the shoulder.
Josen's voice interrupted his reverie. "Summer's coming."
Kerris dragged his thoughts away from his lost past. "Paula
doesn't think so," he said.
"She's a southerner," said Josen. "It's never hot enough here
for them." He was a northerner, but he knew the south well, having
lived there many years. He glanced at Kerris. He was tall, but stoop-
shouldered. His pale eyes were deep-set and very keen. He wore the
clothes of his clan: a black robe of soft wool, with a hood that fell
down his back. On his left fourth finger he wore a gold ring with an
ebony stone. Only scholars and lords of households wore rings: lords
to indicate their rulership, scholars to show that they carried no
weapons. Josen was a member of the Scholars' Guild. He had been sent
to study in Kendra-on-the-Delta by Athor, Morven's father, and had
returned to the Keep twenty-five years ago. "The traders are not here
yet, I suppose."
"No."
Josen said something in the southern tongue.
"What is that?" inquired Kerris. He had been Josen's
apprentice for five years, but he knew only a little of the old
southern language.
"May they suffer seven years from piles," said the old man. "I
need ink!"
Kerris grinned. He and Josen shared working and sleeping space
in the tower, and as much as the disparity of age and temperament
allowed (Josen and Paula were about the same age) they were friends.
"May they suffer from piles after they get here," he suggested.
"Yes," Josen agreed, "that's better."