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

He focused closely on the men at the head of the column. How strange! The apparent leader was a slight figure dressed in a rain-cloak, beneath which were the robes of a Zeth Brother. He rode beside a saddled horse that lacked a rider, and yet the adept turned his head now and again toward the empty saddle, as though someone invisible were there.
Someone who could not be scriedЕ such as Deveron Austrey.
In a panic, Beynor wasted no time surveying the troop further. He screamed into ScarthТs unconscious mind with all the power he could muster.
Scarth! Scarth Saltbeck! Wake up, you fool! TheyТre coming for youЧthe kingТs men! You have less than half an hour before they find you. Gather up the sigils and the books. Put on your cloak and boots. Hurry! DonТt bother with anything else except your sword. Saddle the strongest mule. Go north across open country to the mountains. And if you value your life, put up the cover spell before you ride out! Do you hear me, Scarth? ScarthЕ
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HeТd only just begun to dream the new dream.
He was in the opulent throne room of the Conjure-Queen, approaching her with a confident stride. He wore the black garb of a high-ranking Didionite wizard, flowing robes of rich silken brocade trimmed with sable, and a matching skullcap. The queenТs counselors, clustered about her dais, whispered to each other behind their hands, wondering who this magnificent stranger might be, not knowing he was there by royal invitation!
Warlock-knights of the Royal Guard presented their flaming swords in salute as he went down on one knee before Ullanoth of Moss. Smiling, he lifted the lid of the simple little honeywood box he carried. УIТve brought the stones, Great Queen,Ф he said, going straight to the point, Уjust as I said I would.Ф
The courtiers murmured at his temerity, but Queen Ullanoth rose to her feet, her lovely narrow face alight with avid anticipation and her eyes like green stars. She beckoned for him to approach. He did, holding out the open box so she could see its contents for herself.
The young queen reached out a slender hand. On one finger was a moonstone ring, identical to the one he had brought to her except for the glow of power that suffused it. Hanging on thin chains about her neck were two more living sigilsЧone small and drop-shaped, the other an open triangle an inch or so wide, having a short handle.
УMay I examine these stones of yours, wizard?Ф she asked him with regal courtesy.
УCertainly, Your Majesty.Ф
She took the icicle-shaped stone from his box, regarded it in silence for a moment, lifted her head to meet his gazeЧ
And screamed at him: Scarth! Scarth Saltbeck! Wake up, you fool! TheyТre coming for youЧthe kingТs men! You have less than half an hour before they find you.
He staggered back, dropping the box. УWhat are you saying?Ф he gasped.
Gather up the sigils and the books. Put on your cloak and boots. Hurry! DonТt bother with anything else except your sword. Saddle the strongest mule. Go north across open country, to the mountains. And if you value your life, put up the cover spell before you ride out!Е
She vanished, along with all of her court.
Scarth was back in the rude moorland hut, lying on the floor, half-covered by a rough blanket. A faint red glow came from the embers of the dying fire, but he could see nothing clearly. His head throbbed with agony and the Conjure-QueenТs warning seemed to echo inside his skull like the clanging of Zeth AbbeyТs gigantic bronzen bell.
A dream. It had been another intensely vivid dream.
УFelmar?Ф he called out, in a voice roughened by phlegm. УFelmar?Ф
When there was no answer he crawled to the hearth, tossed on a few sticks, and puffed at the coals until the wood caught and there was enough light to see by. He sat up and called his companionТs name again, turning about and squinting into the shadows. But he was alone in the hut. FelmarТs saddle, his improvised pallet, and all of his things lay as Scarth remembered them. Moonstone sigils, for some odd reason, were scattered everywhere, and the leather sacks that had held them were tossed aside. Even stranger was the abundant sandlike material strewn over the canvas floor-covering. The two old books were nearly buried in it, as was the cloth packet that had held the four important sigils. What did it mean?
Moving with trancelike slowness, he crept toward the door. Maybe Felmar had gone outside to answer a call of nature and got lost. Stupid idiot. But what did it matter, when he himself felt so tired and ill? The mystery of his companionТs disappearance seemed unimportant, as did the curious mess on the floor. To hell with Felmar. Sleep was all that mattered. Sleep, and his dream of the lovely Queen of MossЧ
Scarth! Scarth Saltbeck! Wake up, you fool! TheyТre coming for youЧthe kingТs men! You have less than half an hour before they find you.
Shocked into wakefulness again, he found himself on his hands and knees before the croftТs open doorway, straining to see what might be outside.
УFelmar!Ф he yelled. УWhere are you?Ф The only reply was a soft grumble from one of the mules. He turned about, picked up a pinch of the stuff on the floor and rubbed it between his fingers. Ashes. They felt nothing like the residue of burned wood but were grainy and foul-smelling, like sea-coal cinders. Mixed with the ash were sharper fragments that almost resembled charred boneЕ
Terror smote him like a blow to the gut. Somehow, he knew what had happenedЧif not why. Vomit rose in his gullet and he was barely able to crawl out the door into the grey drizzle before he spewed the contents of his stomach.
He moaned his friendТs name one last time, knowing that there would be no answer. Then he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, staggered to his feet, and reentered the croft to gather the things Queen Ullanoth had commanded him to take. His hands trembled violently, his vision was still impaired, and he was half-crazed with fear. The need to flee this awful place without delay overwhelmed every other thought in his pain-racked brain.
All those sigils scattered aboutЕ
Let them be! Take only the four important ones!
Where were they? He found the ring, the rod, the stone icicleЧbut the tiny stone carving of a door wasnТt there. He scooped up the three and put them in his jerkin pocket.
Why take both books? Only one is needed. Hurry!
He stuffed the tome pertaining to the Great Stones inside his shirt and next to his skin, where it would stay dry, then buckled on his sword with fumbling fingers and fastened his cloak.
Hurry!
The rain had almost stopped by the time he clumsily saddled the mule, and the sky was brighter in the east. He put a foot into the stirrup, swung up after three ineffectual tries, then drew a deep breath and pronounced the incantation for the spell of couverture. To his surprise, it worked.
Hurry, damn you! To the mountains!
УTo the mountains,Ф he mumbled. They werenТt far away, and there were other large rock formations even closer, where he might be able to find a good hiding place.
He turned the muleТs head, kicked its ribs, and set off.

thirteen
Snudge had been windwatching the sleeping thief intermittently since he and the warriors rode out from the castle, even though his talent was greatly fatigued. The empty brandy flask lying on the floor of the hut showed plainly enough why the heretofore impenetrable cover spell had failed in its protection. But the two empty wash-leather bags on the floorЧplus the even more ominous presence of the missing BrotherТs gear and muleЧfilled him with foreboding.
Then Scarth awoke. The manТs inexplicable terror, nausea, and frantic preparations to ride out caused Snudge to bark out an oath of vexation.
УWhatТs wrong, sir?Ф Mattis shouted over the noise of pounding hoofbeats.
УUse windspeech,Ф Snudge bespoke him. УOur thief is preparing to flee. Scry him out yourself, if you can. HeТs frightened out of his mind for some reason, but not saying much, so I canТt read his lips and find out whatТs going onЕ Damn it to hell! HeТs put up the cover spell again.Ф
УI donТt see him, sir,Ф Mattis admitted. УThereТs only the stone hut and a mule.Ф
УThere were two mules a moment ago,Ф Snudge said tightly. УLook carefully at the ground around the place. LetТs see if either of us can scry a trail of hoof-marks in the mud.Ф
Close scrutiny was all but impossible while jouncing along on horseback. As the troop came closer to the croft, Snudge was finally able to determine that there were no fresh prints ahead of them, on the track to Beorbrook. So their prey had taken off cross-country, probably in the direction of the mountains.
УWe wonТt be able to track him over the open moors until we reach the hut,Ф Snudge said. УThe groundТs too stony and cluttered with heather and brush for close scrying. On the other hand, heТs not going to be able to go very fast. Do exactly as I say when we arrive at the hut. DonТt forget that you are the only windvoice in our company.Ф
УI understand, sir.Ф
They reached the faint side-path leading to the croft in another quarter hour. Snudge held his hand high as a signal for the troop to stop, then pointed out the new direction. The men followed single file over the rougher ground, at a cautious walk. When they rode into the hollow and caught sight of the tiny dwelling in the murk, Snudge once again called for a halt and motioned for the six knights to come close for a conference.
УGentlemen, my windvoice and I are going to ride forward and call on Scarth Saltbeck to surrender. Fan out your warriors and follow us. Keep back about ten ells and be alert if he tries to run. Remember: We want this man alive.Ф