"Patricia A. McKillip - Riddlemaster 3 - Harpist In The Wind" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

kings and let his mind grow still. A name stirred shadows
of memory behind the dead eyes. The wraith moved after
a moment, blurring into air and darkness, and entered the
ship.
He lost all sense of time again, as he filled the seven
trade-ships with the last of their cargo. Centuries
murmured through him, mingling with the slap of water
and the sounds of Duac and Raederle talking in some far
land. Finally, he reached the end of names and began to
see.
The dark, silent vessels were growing restless in the
tide. Ship-masters were giving subdued orders, as if they
feared their voices might rouse the dead. Men moved as
quietly across the decks, among the mooring cables.
Raederle and Duac stood alone on the empty dock,
silently, watching Morgon. He went to them, feeling a salt
wind that had not been there before drying the sweat on
his face.
He said to Duac, тАЬThank you. I donтАЩt know how
grateful Eliard is going to be, but itтАЩs the best protection I
can think of for Hed, and it will set my mind at ease. Tell
Mathom... tell himтАФтАЭ He hesitated, groping. Duac
dropped a hand on his shoulder.
тАЬHe knows. Just be careful.тАЭ
тАЬI will be.тАЭ He turned his head, met RaederleтАЩs eyes.
She did not move or speak, but she bound him wordless,
lost again in memories. He broke their silence as if he
were breaking a spell. тАЬIтАЩll meet you at Caithnard.тАЭ He
kissed her and turned quickly. He boarded the lead ship.
The ramp slid up behind him; Bri Corbett stood beside an
open hatch.
He said worriedly as Morgon climbed down the
ladder into the listless hold, тАЬYouтАЩll be all right among
the dead?тАЭ
 Morgon nodded without speaking. Bri closed the
hatch behind him. He stumbled a little around bolts of
cloth and found a place to sit on sacks of spice. He felt
the ship ease away from the dock, away from Anuin
toward the open sea. He leaned against the side of the
hull, heard water spray against the wood. The dead were
silent, invisible around him, their minds growing
quiescent as they sailed away from their past. Morgon
found himself trying to trace their faces suddenly out of
the total darkness. He drew his knees up, pushed his face
against his arms and listened to the water. A few moments
later, he heard the hatch open.
He drew a long, silent breath and loosed it. Lamplight
flickered beyond his closed eyes. Someone climbed down
the ladder, found a path through the cargo, and sat down
beside him. Scents of pepper and ginger wafted up around