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

тАЬWhat is it?тАЭ
тАЬIt seems to be turning into a supply list.тАЭ
тАЬA supply list!тАЭ
тАЬFor a caravan of traders about to cross тАФ тАЭ
тАЬNot an epic,тАЭ Oriel interrupted pointedly. тАЬYou can finish that
with your eyes closed.тАЭ
тАЬItтАЩs thousands of years old! And written upon the hide of an
animal unknown anywhere in the Twelve Crowns.тАЭ
тАЬMaybe it was a fish,тАЭ Oriel suggested grumpily.
тАЬMaybe it was,тАЭ Nepenthe said, intrigued. тАЬOr maybe some kind
of a seal тАФ тАЭ
тАЬNepenthe! Please come with me. Your scholar can wait half a
day. HeтАЩs probably sleeping off yesterdayтАЩs celebration anyway.
HeтАЩll never know youтАЩre gone. Please.тАЭ She added cunningly as
Nepenthe hesitated, тАЬIтАЩll let you see the book before I give it to the
librarians.тАЭ
Nepenthe submerged herself to get the soap out of her hair. She
shook her head, sending her dark hair swirling around her while
she thought. Books sent to the librarians from the Floating School
were extremely rare; the mages had their own ways of recognizing
words. And Oriel was right about Master Croysus: he might not
appear until late afternoon if he found his way down at all from the
heady business of celebration.
She straightened abruptly, sent her long hair whirling back with
a toss of her head, nearly smacking someone behind her. тАЬAll right.тАЭ
She stopped, snorting water as Oriel splashed extravagantly with
relief. тАЬMeet me,тАЭ she added stuffily, тАЬat the library stables after
breakfast.тАЭ
In her tiny, shadowy chamber, she dressed quickly and simply for
the ride in a long woolen tunic and boots. It was still early spring,
and bound to be brisk on the plain. Then she went to breakfast. The
refectory was so high and broad that swallows sometimes nested
along the walls. There she could step beyond the arches into light;
she could pace above the sea. Dawn mists were shredding above the
water, tatters and plumes of purple and gray. The hilly island that
was the Third Crown lay clearly visible in the distance, its white
cliffs gleaming like bone in the morning sun. She filled a bowl from
the huge cauldron full of inevitable boiled oats, and added nuts and
dried fruit to it. She took it with her through the arched outer doors
to the balcony beyond. It was made of marble from one of the
southern Crowns; its fat, pillared walls and railings were high and
very thick. There, if she listened hard on a fine, still day, sometimes
she thought she could hear the breaking waves.
Not that morning: she only heard the voice of Master Croysus,
oddly energetic at that hour. He was standing at one corner of the
balcony, talking to a couple of librarians. One glance at his face told
Nepenthe he had not been to bed yet. His eyes were red-rimmed
and shadowed at the same time; his face was so pale it might have
been km to the glacial, ravaged face of the moon.
тАЬThey say she canтАЩt keep a thought in her head. SheтАЩs scarcely