"Alphabet Of Thorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

УI will,Ф she said absently. УI will. But not yet. The book spoke to me. I want to keep it just a little longer.Ф

УPromise,Ф he insisted, his eyes on the thick, spiky canes of thorn rising between his eyes and the bookТs inner secrets.

УI promise.Ф

He looked at her, not knowing her at all, he realized, even as he recognized the perfunctory tone in her voice. If she would not tell them, then he must, he realized. Soon. After she showed him what kind of magic compelled the book, for he might learn something from it, beyond what the mages thought he should know.

But not that day. She closed it and showed him something else, a kind of alphabet of fish on an ancient pelt, whiling away the time until she could put the fish away and draw him deeper into the labyrinth.


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THREE

And so,Ф Vevay said to Gavin as the candles guttered around them and the embers murmured dreamily, Уthere they were, then: Axis and Kane. King and mage. Rulers of the entire known world. No one born who didnТt learn their names. And where are they now? Vanished like rain.Ф

УRaine?Ф Gavin asked through a yawn.

УRain. Underground. A pair of names chiseled into a broken sandstone tablet in a language so old no one remembers it anymore.Ф

УYou remember.Ф

Well,Ф she said lightly, УIТm so old IТm sure I was alive back then.Ф

She heard him yawn again, and looked down at him affectionately. She sat up in their bed among linens and furs, clothed for the night in pearl-gray silk, her hair, a paler shade of pearl, falling around her like a cloak. Her blue-gray eyes, hooded with age, had once inspired poetry; her hands had inspired epics. Her deeds had inspired a great many different passions; she had managed to survive them all. Now, at home, at rest within the mighty palace of the rulers of Raine, she occasionally wondered, with amazement and rue, how she had survived her younger self.

She dropped a slender, age-rumpled hand on GavinТs bare chest, stroked the white fur there. Once it had been black; once her own hair had been the color of polished bronze. Once he had commanded armies; once she had counseled the mages of warrior-kings.

Now, she thought, it was enough to try to keep a step ahead of one young and inexperienced queen who had inherited the Twelve Crowns of Raine.

УIs that the end of the story?Ф Gavin asked. His eyes were closed.

УHow could it be anything but the end? They lived, they died, they were forgotten.Ф

УHow did they die? Honored and beloved, with funerals that lasted days and tombs overflowing with treasure? Or in a final, ignominious battle with some bastard son or another upstart?Ф

She folded her arms, rested them on her upraised knees, and dropped her chin upon them, watching the embers, lying open like broken hearts, pulsing and dying at once. УI donТt remember,Ф she said absently, losing interest in her own tale. She felt his fingers drifting down her backbone.

УHeroes die a heroТs death. Always. In tales if not in truth.Ф

УDo they?Ф

УMake up something.Ф

УAll right. Axis, the ruler of the world, had so many children he couldnТt keep their names straight, and he died contented in his nightcap, so old and shrunken that he was buried in a childТs coffin, which is why no one ever found his tomb. No one believed that such a magnificent and indomitable emperor would rattle like a seed in a pod in his own coffin.Ф

УUnconvincing,Ф he murmured, his eyes flickering behind the closed lids, seeing himself, she guessed, his own unfinished story. УAnd the mage? Can you do better for him?Ф