"Boreal Moon - 02 - Ironcrown Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (May Julian)

The dismayed windvoice appealed to the other young knight, who now seemed to be almost sober. УWhat am I to do? We dare not wait until heТs slept off his carouse. Lord Stergos insisted that we leave here at once.Ф
Gavlok nudged his collapsed friend with his foot. УCommander! Arise! Duty calls!Ф The only response was a muffled curse. Inside the inn, the music had started up again more loudly and off-key than ever. A fat man staggered out the door and spewed in the shadows.
УPoor Deveron,Ф Gavlok mourned. УHis very first holiday. AlasЧhe was having such a fine time, too! But I fear, Brother Mat, that drastic measures are now called for. Assist me, if you please.Ф Together, the two men began to drag the inert Snudge across the courtyard towards the stables. A courting couple fled at their approach.
Sir Gavlok Whitfell was aware that Deveron Austrey frequently undertook secret missions for King Conrig, but knew nothing of his friendТs arcane talent. Formerly armiger to Lord Stergos, Gavlok had been knighted a year earlier than Snudge and was now assigned to the Royal AlchymistТs Guard. Although he was nobly born, the fourth son of a distinguished Westley family, he was too introspective and sensitive to be an enthusiastic warrior. Lord Stergos valued the gangling, fair-haired young man for his intelligence, his unswerving integrity, and his self-deprecating sense of humorЧas did Snudge.
УWe do this for Sir DeveronТs own good,Ф Gavlok declared to the wind-voice, as the two of them reached a horse-trough with their burden. They tipped Snudge into the water with a great splash, then hauled him out and sat him down in the straw, coughing and spluttering.
УWhoreson!Ф Snudge croaked, lashing out with feeble fury at the friend who was divesting him of his sodden garments. УIТll b-broil your b-bollocks for this!Ф
УNo doubt,Ф Gavlok replied. УBut first you must listen to Vra-Mattis, who has a message for you from the king.Ф
УWhat?Ф
Mattis told him. Snudge groaned piteously. УShite! My head spins like a whirryЧwhirligig. A Сmergency, you say? What sort?Ф
But the novice had not been entrusted with further information, and Snudge knew with woozy certainty that there was no possibility that he himself might bespeak the Royal Alchymist and learn more. His own windtalent had been totally extinguished by ardent spirits, as had most of his other mental faculties. In fact, he was nearly paralytic.
УGawy,Ф he whispered, sinking to the ground again and holding his swollen head in his hands. УGawy, old friend. I mussЧmust lay a great Сsponsibility on you. CanТt hang two thoughts together myself. DТyou think you can get the lot of us on the road? Fresh horses, oТcourse. Clean clothes, too. Our three squires are swizzled as swineherds, lyinТ in a filthy heap somewhere inside.Ф
УIТm none too sharp myself,Ф Gavlok admitted, Уand IТll need your fat purse to make the arrangements. But count on me.Ф
УGood man.Ф Without another word Snudge curled into a ball and began to snore. Overhead, the sky was already pink at three in the morning of Solstice Day, and Cathran songbirds were singing their dawn chorus, oblivious to the merry-making inside the inn.
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He woke with his head clanging like an anvil, riding through a town where well-dressed inhabitants stared at him as he passed. Now and then, someone would snicker. He discovered that he was lashed to the saddle so he would not fall, and he was mounted not on his fine black charger but on a scruffy roan nag with a hogged mane. The beast plodded along on a lead strap behind another rider who wore a dusty crimson robe. To the rear was a drooping figure on a third horse, with a lead attached to SnudgeТs cantle ring.
УMat?Ф SnudgeТs mouth felt like the inside of an old boot and his eyes seemed clogged with sand.
The robed figure looked over its shoulder at him. УAh. Finally awake? Very good.Ф He called out to someone riding ahead. УSir Gavlok, my master has come Фround.У
Gavlok made some unintelligible reply. Snudge muttered to the novice, УWhaЧwhatТs the hour? And where are we?Ф
УThis is Axebridge, a village along the River Blen some fifteen leagues above the capital. I have relatives here. ItТs about the ninth hour of morning. WeТll stop soon for brief refreshment.Ф
УNever have I had a worse hangover,Ф Snudge whimpered. УIТm nearly blind with headache and perishing of thirst.Ф
УIТll make a remedy for you soon,Ф Mat said cheerfully. УAlchymical studies have a practical side, thanks be to Saint Zeth. A concoction of strong ale, raw egg, garum, and ground pepper will quickly banish your blue devils, sir.Ф
The party turned off the high street into a lane and proceeded to a prosperous-looking cottage where a large chestnut tree gave welcome shade from the hot sun. There Gavlok assisted Snudge to dismount while Vra-Mattis helped the three moaning armigers.
УThis is MatТs cousinТs house,Ф Gavlok said. УIТll pay the goodwife well to prepare food for us, which we can eat when weТre back in the saddle. But first, weТll fetch you and the lads that healing draft.Ф
Leaving the stricken men sitting on the grass and drinking from skin water bottles, the tall skinny knight and the bandy-legged little novice went to the cottage door and spoke at length to someone inside.
Valdos Grimstane, who at sixteen years of age was SnudgeТs senior squire, said faintly, УI think I may die, Sir Deveron.Ф
He was a grandson of Duke Tanaby Vanguard, and it was a mark of Con-rigТs esteem that such a highborn youth had been assigned as armiger to the newly belted Royal Intelligencer. Valdos was pleasantly ugly and usually of a ruddy complexion, but at the moment his face was cheese-green and his eyes so bloodshot that their true color could hardly be discerned.
УNo, you wonТt die, Val,Ф Snudge assured him. УYouТll gather your wits as speedily as you can, for something has caused the High King to cancel our country holiday and summon us all back to the palace posthaste. I know not why.Ф
УBazekoyТs Biceps! You have no hint at all of whatТs up?Ф
УNone. But I suspect itТs no trivial business.Ф
УWhat a disappointment for you, sir, not to see your new manor house after all,Ф said the junior armiger. A year younger than Valdos, his name was Wiltorig Baysdale. He was a native of the Southern Shore, a distant cousin of the Lord Treasurer, Duke Feribor Blackhorse, and uncommonly good-looking and tall for his age. He had curly blond hair, grey eyes, and an ingratiating manner that Snudge had found to be a bit cloying. But perhaps the lad was only overeager to please.
УI daresay Buttonoaks will wait, Wil.Ф Snudge sighed. УIТve been assured that my steward is a very competent fellowЕ How do you feel?Ф
УSeedy, sir. IТve never been drunk before. It seemed great fun last night, but IТve never had such a headache. I could swear that nails are being pounded into my skull.Ф
УAh, ye poor mite,Ф came the mocking voice of GavlokТs squire, Hanan Caprock, a burly youth who came from the wild mountain lands above Beorbrook Hold. УImagine thatЧyour first hangover! Must be a quiet life down in Blackhorse DuchyЕ when the local peers arenТt murdering each other or plotting treason against the Sovereign. I suppose youТll be a virgin, too, eh?Ф
WilТs face went crimson. His retort was surprisingly cool. УThatТs none of your business. And I advise you to stifle your crude remarks in future, or youТll regret it.Ф
HananТs hooded dark eyes narrowed. УOh, I will, will I, pretty one?Ф
УThatТs enough!Ф Snudge said testily. УHanan, youТve a mouth on you like a potboy. Apologize at once, or Sir Gavlok will hear about this. I wonТt have my men baited.Ф
The older squire climbed to his feet and bowed elaborately to Wiltorig. УI ask your pardon, Baysdale. And I apologize to you, also, Sir Deveron. IТm a highland ass who never learned fine manners! So why donТt I trot off and see if my master can use me for donkey-work?Ф He slouched toward the rear of the cottage, where Gavlok and Vra-Mattis had disappeared along with the woman of the house.
УIТm surprised Sir Gavlok tolerates such a lout,Ф Wiltorig remarked with disdain.
УHis choice of squire is not your concern.Ф Snudge stood up and eased his sore joints. УAnd so long as Sir Gavlok rides with us, youТll be civil to Hanan, even under provocation. Is that clear?Ф
УYes, sir.Ф
Snudge was weary of the armigersТ callow chatter and felt a need to organize his own befuddled thoughts. УIТm going to stretch my legs in yonder orchard. ThereТs probably a well behind the house. You two water the horses. TheyТre very thirsty.Ф
УHow do you know that, sir?Ф Wiltorig asked with studied innocence.
Snudge was taken aback. The ladТs tone seemed oddly pointed. УAny competent horseman can tell!Ф he snapped. УObey me.Ф
He cursed himself for the possibly revealing slip of the tongue as he moved away into a grove of cherry trees that were already setting fruit. One of his lesser gifts was the ability to coerce and control horses, and he was also uncannily aware of the animalsТ physical needs and afflictions. When he was a young boy, the talent had brought him special treatment in the royal stables from grateful grooms. Eventually, it resulted in his first fateful encounter with Conrig Wincantor, which had forever changed his life.
But why had the armiger Wiltorig posed his question so oddly? Was Snudge being overly imaginativeЧor had someone primed the boy to watch for evidence of wild talent?
Duke Feribor Blackhorse?Е
Snudge felt a queasy stirring in his belly that had nothing to do with his hangover. The formidable Lord Treasurer was a childhood friend of King Con-rig, one of his closest advisers, and in a perfect position to have put forward his young relative as an armiger candidate. Snudge, wrapped up in the excitement of his investiture and the unexpected holiday, had thought nothing of the coincidence until this moment.
His physical discomfort forgotten, he thought about it now. And berated himself for never having put together certain facts about the duke.
Feribor, accused by persistent rumorЧwhich the king flatly refused to countenanceЧof having poisoned his first wife, as well as orchestrating the death of his feckless older brother Shiantil so that he might inherit the Black-horse dukedomЕ
Feribor, who now stood first in the line of succession to the Crown of Sovereignty, should ConrigТs offspring be debarredЕ