"Dennis L. McKiernan - Mithgar - Eye of the Hunter" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKiernan Dennis L)

The next day was Faeril's birthday, and an age-name change as well,
for on this day she turned twenty; no longer would she be called a
maiden, but for the next ten years would be known as a young damman.
It was a day of celebration, though now and again Faeril seemed
morose, and her best friend, Lacey, was occasionally found weeping.
Yet at long last the day finally came to an end. The celebrants said
good night to one another, the guests departing for their homes. And
finally Faeril and her family took to their beds, Faeril giving her sire and
dam and her three brothers especially tender hugs.



In the predawn hours, Faeril finished her packing. Bearing a candle,
she quietly tiptoed through the wee stone cottage and out to the stables,
pausing only long enough to leave a note at the kitchen table. Yet lo! at
the stables she found her dam, Lorra, by lantern light saddling Faeril's
pony.
"You did not think you could leave without me saying good-bye."
Her mother's statement was not a question.
 "M-mother!" Faeril groped for words. "B-but how did you know?"
"Oh, my dammsel, I, too, have the journal. And by your behavior
yesterdayтАФnay! not just yesterday but all the yesterdays of this year,
practicing extra hours with the knives, asking your sire about living off
the land, seeking knowledge of Arden Vale's whereabouts . . . well, it
simply could be nothing else."
Faeril flung her arms about her mother, tears rolling down her
cheeks.
"Hush, hush," her mother comforted her, though Lorra, too, now
wept. "I knew, and so did you, that this day would come. And you go
with my blessing."
Faeril wept all the harder.
"Shhhh, now. Weep not, child." Faeril's dam stroked her hair. "It
was foretold.
"Oh, my dammsel. I do envy you, for did we not, each of us, every
firstborn dammsel, renew the pledge? Did we not all train at knives? Did
we not all dream? Did not each of us wish that she would be the one?
"Even so, pledges and training and dreams and desires
notwithstanding, Fortune chooses its own way of fulfilling prophecies.
"Ponder this: had every firstborn dammsel been birthed but a year
later each, down through the generations, all thirty of them, then I would
be setting forth upon this venture rather than you. Then I would be the
dammsel living out the dream.
"But Fate dictated otherwise, and even though I love you with all my
heart, I envy you, for you are the Lastborn Firstborn chosen to fulfill this
destiny, and not me.
"Still, I am proud, for you are my firstborn, and Fate could not have
chosen better.
"But there is this that you should know, too, my dammsel: the
prophecy says Lastborn Firstborns. Did you hear? Firstborns . . . and