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

How?
УI intend to travel directly to Moss by land. You and your warriors go down the River Malle as quickly as you can. Return to the Dawntide Isles.
Assemble your invading army, proceed to the Darkling River below Royal Fen-guard, and meet me there in six days. You can do it easily. Bring the Known Potency with you.У
And then?
УHelp me kill my sister Ullanoth. When sheТs well and truly deadЧand only thenЧIТll bring the Potency to life, in a manner that doesnТt endanger me. You can use it to activate the Conjure-QueenТs remaining sigils without the usual pain. In a short time, with the help of the stones, the entire nation of Moss will belong to you and your people. If you use Moss as a base of operations, you can conquer all of High Blenholme.Ф
How do I know youТre telling the truth?
УBespeak your colleagues,Ф Beynor said wearily. УAsk their advice, and for GodТs sake follow it, for they are far wiser than you. IТll be at Royal Fenguard myself within six days. Either join me there, or forget that you ever knew me. And throw the Known Potency into the depths of the Boreal Sea, for it will never be more to you than a useless bit of rock.Ф
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It was late afternoon when the remount Sir Gavlok Whitfell had acquired at the Great Pass garrison pulled up lame. By that time, SnudgeТs party had almost reached the Didionite fortress of Castlemont. Ordinarily, even though the barbarian nation was now a loyal vassal of the Sovereignty, the kingТs men would have passed the place by and continued on twenty leagues further up the Wold Road to the walled way station of Rockyford, long operated by Cathra for the benefit of royal dispatch riders and important commercial travelers. Gavlok was all for pressing on, insisting heТd be content to ride pillion with one of the two burly Mountain Swordsmen who had joined them at Beorbrook Hold. But Snudge had doubts.
УThereТs a brown haze spreading over the sky from the west,Ф he pointed out, Уand a smell of smoke. IТm not one to believe in omens, but I do know that beyond Castlemont we ride into lonely country where outlaws loyal to Prince Somarus prey on caravans and well-found travelers with hardly a blink of disapproval from the local lords. What if villains have fired the Elderwold in places, so as to slow down those on the road and have easy pickings? If thereТs trouble brewing, it would be folly for us to head straight into it with one of our party lacking a sound mount.Ф
УThere was no hint of bandit activity in the area reported at Great Pass, Sir Deveron,Ф rumbled one of the Mountain Swordsmen, who was named Radd Falcontop. УStill, I confess to feeling a prickling of my own thumbs. Have you noted how few people weТve met riding south today?Ф
УIt might only be the lull in traffic normal around Solstice time,Ф said the second Swordsman, Hulo Roundbank. УBut what if it isnТt? I believe youТre right to stop at Castlemont, messire. We can rest, feed ourselves and our beasts, and pay the castle stableТs outrageous price for a fresh horse for Sir Gavlok. Meanwhile, Radd and I can try to pick up some useful gossip. After so many years in the earl marshalТs service, weТve managed to make a few friends in this part of Didion.Ф
Falcontop and Roundbank were men of Beorbrook Hold, veterans of border skirmishes and fights along the Wold Road, the only reliable land route connecting Cathra and Tarn. They were of an age with Earl Marshal Parlian, having served him since he was newly knighted six-and-thirty years earlier. The two Swordsmen were long widowed and had only grown children, but although they bore the scars of many battles, they were still hardy as badgers. They had volunteered for this strange mission knowing that it involved high sorcery and dangerous state secrets; and if they were surprised at the youthful-ness of the expeditionТs leader, theyТd concealed their thoughts well.
Falcontop was the shorter of the pair, stocky, with broad shoulders and arms so powerful they could wrestle down and foot-lash a stag. His hair, thinning on top but ample below and worn in leather-bound plaits, had once been brick-red; but it and his bushy beard and brows were now so diluted with white as to be nearly pink. His dark eyes were hooded and his habitual expression was one of calm forbearance. He had killed twenty-two men in battle.
Hulo Roundbank was two heads taller than his fellow-warrior, not nearly as massive, but giving an impression of indefatigable strength and endurance. His long face was split by a thrusting beak of a nose topped by a single long brow of tangled silver. The rest of his skull was shaven to stubble, save for the area just before his ears, where he had spared two dangling white tresses threaded with bright blue beads that had plainly been chosen to match his eyes.
Both men wore chausses and vests of well-tanned deerskin, stained blackish-brown by long usage, lightweight linen shirts of the same anonymous hue, heavy boots, and oddly folded caps with projecting bills in front. Their impressive array of personal weaponry left no doubt as to their occupation, but for this mission they wore no manТs badge.
With Gavlok up behind Hulo and his limping horse on a lead rein, they traveled the last few leagues to Castlemont. The fortress crowned a rugged crag and guarded the important intersection of the Great North Road, the Wold Road, and Boar Road. At the foot of Castlemont Crag was a high-walled enclosure built of rock, where carts or pack animals carrying valuable cargo could be secured for the night. It had a tall guardtower, a bare-bones inn that offered shelter from the elements and little else, rows of hitching posts, a well, and a store of fodder supervised by a sleepy-looking ostler. The place was empty except for a Didionite mule-train carrying slabs of choice wood, being offloaded so that the animals might rest well before making the steep ascent to Great Pass and the Cathran border on the morrow.
УNo stable down here, no horses for sale or hire,Ф Gavlok noted. УWeТd best take ourselves up to the fort.Ф
To reach the stronghold, it was necessary to climb a track with many switchbacks, reminiscent of the approach to Elktor Castle. The gate to the track was barred. At the guardpost, Snudge presented a document identifying him as the son of a Cathran merchant-peer, traveling to Tarn on family business.
The watch captainТs eyes gleamed as he studied the parchment, then let his gaze wander over the collection of dusty but well-dressed young men and the two hard-bitten warriors who shepherded them.
УNot a wise thing these days, traveling by land to Tarn,Ф the officer observed, rerolling the parchment and giving it back to Snudge. УOur local breed of lawless men well know what to do with a letter of creditЧshould you just happen to be carrying one of those! They roast the bearerТs feet till he signs it over. My lord, take my advice and hire more guards when you reach Rocky-ford Station.Ф He nodded at Vra-Mattis. УYour good Brother there can bespeak the old windvoice who lives at the place and arrange it all for you in advance. But first, enjoy the good cheer of Castlemont Fortress. WeТre always happy to welcome guests who know the value of top-notch service.Ф
УStay and spend money,Ф muttered GavlokТs saucy highland squire, Hanan, as they started up the hill.
УOdds on, Sir Deveron, that captain thinks youТre going to Tarn to purchase gold for your daddy.Ф Radd Falcontop grinned. УHeТs got you pegged: a young spark and his good mate and your squires and bodyguards, off to do a little business and have a fine adventure in the wild north country. Then youТll sail comfortably home from Donorvale City, and brag to your friends back in Gala Blenholme that you dared the big, bad Wold Road.Ф
Hulo chuckled. УThe captain might not bother to sell us out to the nearest robber band if we tip him well on the way out of here.Ф
УWe could stay the night,Ф Gavlok suggested. УItТs the last civilized place weТll find short of Castle Direwold near the Tarnian frontier. WeТll live rough from here on.Ф
УIТll consider it,Ф Snudge said. УLetТs see which way the wind blows after weТve taken our ease and bought you a new horse.Ф
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The wind blew from Gala Palace, and the voice precariously riding on it was that of Lord Stergos, the convalescent Royal Alchymist.
His words came only to SnudgeТs brain, and were perceived there very faintly, as he and his companions ate an early supper together at a trestle table in an open porch near the fortТs kitchen, accompanied by a few other wayfarers. In the outposts of Didion, there was little regard for the niceties due to rank; if a noble was too fastidious to sup at the common board, he was invited to take his meal in one of the tiny sleeping cubicles in the dormitorium provided for paying guests.
The intelligencer gave no sign that heТd heard words on the wind, only silently bespoke the novice, Vra-Mattis, who sat on the opposite side of the table. УGive a low cryЧthen tell me quietly that you have a wind-message for me.Ф
The apprentice played his role to perfection, so none of the outsiders at the table heard what he said to his master. Gavlok and the armigers exchanged knowing smiles and Radd and Hulo pretended indifference.
Snudge rose. УSir Gavlok, explain to our new companions why we must suffer arcane interruptions in our mundane activities from time to time.Ф
He and Mat strode off to the curtain wall, and after receiving permission from the sergeant of the watch, climbed to the southern parapet with the excuse of viewing the mountain panorama, but in actuality wishing to ease Lord StergosТs bespeaking over distance. None of the fortТs men-at-arms approached or questioned them after Vra-Mattis cast a light spell to discourage curiosity. They settled into a broad embrasure between the merlons of the battlement, then Snudge covered his eyes and responded to Stergos.
УIТm here, my lord, Deveron Austrey in Castlemont Fortress in Didion. IТm in a secure place. There are no expert windtalents round about here able to eavesdrop upon us, only Vra-Mattis, who cannot overhear unless I permit itЧ which I wonТt. Are you in better health?Ф
IТm mending, thanks to a potion that came some days ago from the Conjure-Queen, sent before she sank into a profound trance.
УSulkorig told me of her strange fate. WhatТs become of her sigils?Ф
For safekeeping, theyТre being stored in the traditional placeЧthe tomb of the first Conjure-King, RothbannonЧwhere they will remain inaccessible to anyone save members of the reigning family of Moss: Ullanoth herself, of course, should she be restored to her body, and Beynor also. When I remonstrated with Lady Zimroth and warned her of the potential danger from him, she remained unmoved. Mossland tradition, it seems, may not be flouted! And Beynor is accurst, so even if the stones were inactive, he could not touch them without perishing. At least this is what she and the rest of the Glaumerie Guild believeЕ And now please tell me why you are so eager to bespeak me, Deveron, rather than relay messages through Vra-Sulkorig. The effort to speak on the wind is very taxing.
УLord Stergos, bear with me. Since you were so badly injured, much has happened to meЧand some of it may pertain to the situation in Moss. I have secrets to impart. Some must be withheld from His Grace the High King, while others he must hear only from your own lips. This is why I needed to bespeak you so urgently.Ф
Tell me.
Haltingly at first, then in a torrent of detailed windspeech, Snudge described his meeting with the Green Man Odall at the croft east of Castle Elk-tor. He said nothing of the unwelcome gift of the sigil Subtle Gateway, but he did tell of his amazing encounter with the One Denied the Sky.
The SourceЧAnselТs mysterious SourceЧyou say HE is this One Denied the Sky? And you believe him to be one of the Beaconfolk?
УI do, my lord. He said little but implied much during our strange conversation. We of Cathra have long believed that all of the Great Lights are evil. But the SourceТs talk of a New Conflict betokens that an Old Conflict once took placeЧand that it must have involved a dispute between good and evil entities of the Sky Realm over the morality of moonstone magic and pain-eating.Ф
And the evil Lights won this ancient battle?
УAlmost certainly, for the sigils still belong to them. As I understand it, the New Conflict has the aim of severing this pernicious linkage between Sky and Ground beings. The Source spoke of how I had been enlisted in this New Conflict. And I wasnТt the only one: the Source spoke of King Conrig, the thieving Brothers, and even Beynor of Moss in this way. Some of the enlistees, like me, were given free choice to join the Conflict or refuse. Others, like His Grace, seem to serve the purposes of this Source all unawares. In my opinion, Queen Ullanoth has also been drawn into the ConflictЧor perhaps taken out of it until the Source reinstates her. Even Princess Maudrayne and her little son appear to be part of this supernatural war, since the Source ordered me to continue on to Tarn without delay and fulfill my duty there.Ф
This is incredible! Do you mean to tell me that the entity called the Source uses human beings as agents or weapons in this battle between factions of Lights?
УSo it would seem, my lord.Ф
Deveron, IЧI am at a loss. I know not what to say to you. What youТve told me has a terrible plausibility, and yet my soul shrinks from the idea that a merciful God might permit his human creatures to be manipulated in such a cavalier manner by supernatural beings!
УIТm no great thinker, my lord. But even I know that the lesser people of our world are routinely used by the greater for their own purposes. Children are ruled by parents; wives are ruled by husbands; men are ruled by overlordsЕ ItТs the way things are. At least the Source seems to be motivated solely by good intentions.Ф
My royal brother would find this notion of being used by the Lights to be insupportable. His pride would never accept it as truth, and so I will not tell him about it, lest he doubt the rest of your explanation for failing to retrieve the Trove of Darasilo.
УI agree that would be the wisest course, my lord.Ф