"Patricia A. McKillip - The Throme of the Erril of Sherill" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKillip Patricia A)

eyes were the color of long, motionless, uninterrupted nights. Somewhere
beyond the dark stones was a moon-haired Cnite who loved the sad, sighing
Damsen of the King.
That Cnite came one night to the house of Magnus Thrall. Damsen, who from
the high window had seen the churttels come and go, and the daylight come and
go, saw the Cnite ride across the fields of Everywhere and thump on the
drawbridge of the house, which shut itself up at night like a grim, wordless
sprite. Her sad, sighing heart gave two quick beats. Magnus Thrall, wearing a
circle in the stones in front of a skinny, dancing elf of a flame, stopped.
тАЬWho thumped across my drawbridge?тАЭ
тАЬIt is your Chief Cnite Caerles,тАЭ said Damsen, and her voice was like the
low, clear ripple of water across stones.
тАЬHa!тАЭ said Magnus Thrall. тАЬI know what he has come for. But he cannot have
you because I need you. If you go away, I will be here alone in these dark, dank
walls. I need to look at your sad face. It comforts me.тАЭ
A tear dropped onto DamsenтАЩs needlework and winked like a jewel among
the bright threads. She looked towards the door at the sound of footsteps. They
came through dark halls and empty rooms and lightless winding staircases
towards her, for the King had shut up his house so that he could wail and wish
alone. Spiders wove tapestry on the cold grey walls, and dust gathered,
motionless, on the stone floors. The footsteps stopped at the doorway, and the
Cnite Caerles stood in it, looking in at the warm fire, and the King, and Damsen
with her eyes like cups of sweet, dark wine. He smiled at her eyes, and they
smiled back, sadly, beneath their tears.
 тАЬGo away,тАЭ Magnus Thrall said.
тАЬI just arrived,тАЭ Caerles said reasonably. тАЬMy horse is in your disused
stable. He is tired and I am tired, both of us having followed the sun and the
moon to get here.тАЭ
тАЬYou are welcome,тАЭ said Damsen.
тАЬYou are not,тАЭ said Magnus Thrall. тАЬBesides, we have no room for you.тАЭ
тАЬI will rest content on the cold stones,тАЭ Caerles said, тАЬand in the morning I
will come and ask something of you, and then I will leave you.тАЭ


тАЬI will give you an answer now,тАЭ said the King. тАЬNo.тАЭ
Caerles sighed. He stepped into the room. It was thick with fur beneath the
foot, shining here and there with gold or silver, or dark, polished wood.
DamsenтАЩs needlework hung on the walls. New flowers, pink and gold, and
midnight blue, sat in water on the table. Such things would Damsen do in
CaerlesтАЩ house, bringing with her sad, lovely thoughts. He stood tall and
straight before the King, his shirt of mail silvery as fish scale, his sword and his
shield of three moons at his side, proper and fair from his carefully brushed
moon-colored hair to his gleaming, mouse-colored boots.
тАЬI have come for Damsen,тАЭ he said to her wet face turned towards him like a
dawn-flower. тАЬIt is the time, in my loving, when I want no long, sunlit road
between us, and no stone wall and closed door.тАЭ
тАЬYou will leave without her.тАЭ
тАЬBut why? You are growing a flower in the dark. You are shutting a rare
stone up in a locked box.тАЭ
тАЬWhy should I give my flower to you? You will shut her away in your own