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

The seven spears rose, flashing like birds. тАЬWe are the Seven Watchers of
the child Elfwyth of the Erie Merle. We will bring you to him in thanks for his
child, and you will be bedded in soft silk and washed in wine, if you but give us
your name.тАЭ
Caerles rose from the stream. тАЬI am the Cnite Caerles, and I am questing for
the Throme of the Erril of Sherill.тАЭ
The Seven Watchers looked at one another. тАЬIt does not exist.тАЭ
тАЬI know, but I must find it. Will the Erie Merle help me? If not, I will bed
myself in soft grass, having already washed.тАЭ
The Seven Watchers turned their mounts. тАЬThe Erie Merle is wiser than an
oak tree at twilight, wiser than the pale moon at moon rise. If he can help you,
he will.тАЭ
Caerles went with them, and Elfwyth rode the flaming dagon Dracoberus,
and the barred gates of the Erie Merle opened without the touch of a hand to
welcome them. The Erie Merle was a tall, thin wraith of bones and pale skin
and hair like the spun gossamer of spiderтАЩs web. His eyes flashed like jewels,
now emerald, now amber, and they smiled as the child Elfwyth came to hug his
knees.
тАЬI have found my Dracoberus!тАЭ she shouted into his rich robe. тАЬNow you
must give that Cnite the Throme of the Sherill of Erril.тАЭ
тАЬErril of Sherill,тАЭ said the Erie Merle, and his eyes as he looked up flashed
blue sapphire at Caerles. His hand strayed thoughtfully among the towzled curls
of ElfwythтАЩs head. тАЬYou are my wild child, and it was your Dracoberus and
your Watchers and this Cnite who found you. Now go to him and give him your
hand like a true lady and bring him gently into my house.тАЭ
And that she did, gently.
When they had eaten much of thin, hot slices of rare meats and golden-crusted
breads and sweet wines and fruits, the Erie Merle sat back in his chair and
looked first at Caerles and then at Elfwyth. Above his head was a huge,
unwinking eye that the sun burnt gold, and all down the lengths of two sides of
his hall lesser eyes watched, pools of violet, green, silver.
тАЬI do not know where the Throme is,тАЭ he said. тАЬOr where it is not. I only
know that it is not here.тАЭ He tapped softly at the rim of his cup with the crescent
moon of his curved nail, and his eyes went limpid grey. тАЬI may have a
suggestion, but it will lead to danger.тАЭ
тАЬThere is a woman who weeps, waiting for me in Magnus ThrallтАЩs house,тАЭ
Caerles said. тАЬI do not know that word danger.тАЭ
тАЬSo.тАЭ The Erie MerleтАЩs eyes winked like pure stars. тАЬThen I suggest you look
for the Throme of the Erril of Sherill at the Mirk-Well of Morg.тАЭ
The Cnite Caerles stared into his emerald green eyes. He said in a voice two
tones smaller, тАЬBut the Mirk-Well of Morg does not exist. It is a line in a song,
a passage of a tale told to children by fire light. How can I go to a place that is
not there?тАЭ
The Erie Merle looked back at him out of midnight eyes. тАЬWhat better place
to find a thing that does not exist?тАЭ he inquired, and Caerles sighed deeply from
his heartтАЩs marrow.
тАЬThen I will go there,тАЭ he said.
The child Elfwyth bounced suddenly in her chair. тАЬI will go with you,тАЭ she
cried, тАЬand my Dracoberus will keep you from danger.тАЭ
тАЬA quest is no journey for a frail child,тАЭ said the Erie Merle, and his voice