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

thousand watching eyes. The east gate in the outermost palace wall
opened as she paused. A troop of guards or warriors in sky blue and
silver rode out. Against the massive sprawl they seemed as tiny as
insects. Riding away from it among the pavilions, they regained
human stature. Nepenthe sent windblown hair out of her eyes and
caught up with Oriel, who had turned away from the sea toward
the wood.
 It seemed a dark, impenetrable tangle, a smudge along one edge
of DreamerтАЩs Plain. The school, which occasionally and inexplicably
floated above the trees, was nowhere to be seen that morning. Its
history was as nebulous as the wood. The school was either younger
or older than the royal library, or it had once been the Library,
during the rule of the first King of Raine. Legend said that as the
palace grew more complex through the centuries, the school broke
free of it and floated away, searching for some peace and quiet in
the wood. Another tale had it hidden within the wood for
safekeeping during a war. Yet another said that the wood was not a
wood at all, but the cumulative magic of centuries spun around the
school, and that the magic itself could take any shape it chose. As
far as Nepenthe knew, it generally looked like trees. But they were
thick, shadowy, strange. No one hunted there. The animals, tales
said, had a human turn of thought and talked too much.
As they rode toward it, the dark wood began to leak color like
paint spilling between stones. Oriel pulled her horse to a halt and
reached out to Nepenthe at the sight. Light shimmered from
between the trees, great swaths of dazzling hues that Nepenthe
only glimpsed from a distance when a parade of courtiers rode to
hunt beyond the plain. Such silks they wore then, such rich golds
and reds, purples and summer blues that they looked like flowers
blown across the plain. As the transcriptors stared, bolts of flame
and sun unrolled like rippling satin into the air above the trees,
shook across the grass, and seeped away.
тАЬIтАЩm not going in there,тАЭ Oriel said flatly. Her damp fingers were
icy around NepentheтАЩs wrist.
тАЬItтАЩs nothing,тАЭ Nepenthe murmured, entranced. тАЬMagic. Illusion.
They made it out of nothing.тАЭ
тАЬThey can kill each other with it!тАЭ
тАЬTheyтАЩre students,тАЭ Nepenthe argued unconvincingly. тАЬThey donтАЩt
practice that on each other.тАЭ
тАЬIf it doesnтАЩt kill you, it can transform you into something
loathsome.тАЭ
тАЬThey can probably see us coming. They wouldnтАЩt turn a pair of
transcriptors into maggots.тАЭ
Oriel balked. тАЬNo. Anyway, how do you know what it is or who is
making it? They could be having a war in there for all we know,
and weтАЩd ride into the middle of something deadly just looking for a
book.тАЭ
тАЬAll right,тАЭ Nepenthe said. тАЬAll right. IтАЩll go.тАЭ
тАЬNo.тАЭ
Nepenthe coaxed her placid mount forward a step or two. тАЬMy