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

that means more than one."
Faeril's weeping lessened, then stopped as the import of her dam's
words struck home. Sniffing, wiping her nose with the back of her hand,
she stepped back and looked at Lorra. "More than one?"
Lorra smiled wanly, blinking away her own tears. "Aye. More than
one. Lastborn Firstborns means more than one."
Faeril's eyes widened, and a look of disbelief, mingled with gladness,
crept upon her features. "Mother, does that mean you get to come, too?
Does that mean you get to fulfill your dream?"
"No, child. Would that it did, yet it is not to be, for I am not a
Lastborn Firstborn, as are you."
Faeril's face fell. "But thenтАФ"
"There can only be two Lastborn Firstborns, my dammsel,"
interjected Lorra, "male and femaleтАФbucco and dammsel."
In a gesture of remembrance the young damman touched her temple,
her dam's words reminding her what she already knew. "Yes, Mother, I
momentarily forgot." Then she frowned. "But, the buccoтАФI don't
knowтАФ"
Lorra gently grasped her child by the shoulders, looking at her
intently. "Now heed me: Somewhere in the Weiunwood lives a young
buccan named Gwylly Fenn, or so I was told by letter some twenty or
twenty-five years back, when he was birthed. Lineal descendant of the
firstborn buccoes back unto Small Urus and Tomlin, just as we reach
back unto Little Riatha and Petal.
"Oh, by now, after all these years, after all these generations, our
kinship has stretched so thin as to be no kinship at all. You could not
even call him a cousin.
"Yet I deem that he is the one you must find and take with you to
Arden Vale."
Faeril returned her dam's gaze in the amber light of the lantern. "But,
Mother, if the prophecy says that the Firstborns will be at Riatha's side,
then won't he find his own way to Arden Vale?"
Lorra genuinely smiled now. "Pish tush, child, even prophecies need
help now and again."
Faeril laughed aloud, and Lorra joined her.
Together they finished saddling Blacktail, the pony looking askance
over its shoulder at the giggling dammen. Faeril tied her bedroll and
knapsack behind the saddle . . . and suddenly it was time to go.
Once again the dammen embraced, and this time they kissed, and
then Faeril mounted up and rode away.
Behind, a mother wept and watched her daughter leave; she stood
silently, not calling out, for she had always known that this day would
come, and she did not protest.
And as the sky brightened, shading from grey to pink, and the
ground mist swirled among the trees, Faeril rode onward, into the dawn,
heading east, heading into destiny.



Chapter 4