"Patricia A. McKillip - In the Forests of Serre" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

He pushed the terrible memories from his mind, and found again the Mother
of All Witches, staring at him behind her fly-green lenses. The idea that she
might have been waiting there for him was disturbing. But nobody took their
chickens to feed in that benighted place. Even the insects had abandoned it.
Long ago, tales said, some lovelorn maiden had drowned it with her tears and
then cursed it barren as her heart. With some effort, he pushed aside the witch
on the waste, too. If, he reasoned, he was to get lost after leaving his fatherтАЩs
palace at the end of the day, then once he got home, he would simply not leave.
As for having a bad day, he doubted that the witch herself knew how bad a day
could get.
тАЬMy lord.тАЭ A guard had quickened pace to catch up with him. тАЬLord Karsh
has fallen.тАЭ
RonanтАЩs mouth tightened. The warrior had been dangerously wounded, but he
had refused to stay on the plains. тАЬDead?тАЭ
тАЬIt seems so, my lord.тАЭ
So it proved, when Ronan investigated. But his death was not unexpected.
The surprise was that he had endured the journey so long. His body was
wrapped in blankets and placed in a supply cart. Later, when the cart lost a
wheel, the stiffened body had to be taken back out and balanced precariously
over his horseтАЩs saddle. They left the cart there in the forest with the driver
trying to reset the wheel. Not a good day, Ronan thought. But not impossible,
and nothing out of the ordinary. Except the witch.
There was not much day left by the time the endless trees parted around them
and they saw at last the ancient palace of the rulers of Serre. Part fortress, it
seemed carved out of the crags on which it stood. Ribbons of water on both
sides of it caught fire from the lowering sun, poured down steep walls of
granite to the broad valley below. The riders quickened their pace. Even
Ronan, who had no doubt that his father was furious with him, breathed more
easily when they reached the road carved into the stone face of the cliff. Ronan,
gazing up at the thick walls and high towers, saw a minute scratch of light
across the dark, like the path of a falling star. From very far away, he heard the
trumpet speak, announcing their return. Within the formidable walls would be
food and wine, hot water and fire, aid and comfort for those who had ridden in
constant pain from unhealed wounds. It seemed, at that moment, a fair exchange
for what awaited him.
An hour later, he was home.
The king did not waste time sending for him. In his chamber, Ronan splashed
water over his dusty face and hair, and stood dripping while a servant
unbuttoned his travel-stained tunic and drew another over his shoulders. The
door flew open suddenly. The King of Serre said, тАЬGet out.тАЭ RonanтАЩs servants
abandoned him hastily. His father swung a hand hard and scarred with battle
and slammed the heavy door shut behind them; turning, still swinging, he
slapped Ronan. The prince, surprised, stumbled against the washstand. The
basin careened, spilled water over his boots. He caught his balance, his head
ringing like the brass on the stones. The king waited until the basin was still,
until the only sounds in the room were the endless thunder of water over the
sheer cliff just beneath the open casement, and RonanтАЩs quickened breathing.
Then the king said, тАЬShe will be here in three days. Her messengers arrived
this morning.тАЭ
Ronan let go of the washstand cautiously, touched his bruised mouth with the