"Robin McKinley - Damar 1 - The Blue Sword" - читать интересную книгу автора (McKinley Robin)

can trace his bloodlines back to Aerin and Tor, who ruled Damar in its golden agewith or without magic,
depending on which version you prefer."
"If they weren't legends themselves," put in Sir Charles.
"Yes. But I believe they were real," said Jack Dedham. "I even believe they wielded something we
prosaic Homelanders would call magic."
Harry stared at him, fascinated, and his smile broadened. "I'm quite used to being taken for a fool
about this. It's doubtless part of the reason why I'm still a colonel, and still at the General Mundy. But
there are a number of us old soldiers whose memories go back to the Daria of thirty, forty years ago who
say the same thing."
"Oh, magic," said Sir Charles disgustedly, but there was a trace of uneasiness in his voice as well.
"Have you ever seen lightning come to heel like a dog?"
Dedham through his politeness looked a little stubborn. "No. I haven't. But it's true enough at least
that the men who have gone up against Corlath's father and grandfather were plagued by the most
astonishing bad luck. And you know the Queen and Council back Home would give their eyeteeth to
push our border back the way we've been saying we would for the last eighty years."
"Bad luck?" said Lady Amelia. "I've heard the stories, of coursesome of the old ballads are very
beautiful. Butwhat sort of bad luck?"
Dedham smiled again. "I admit it does begin to sound foolish when one tries to explain it. But things
like riflesor matchlocksmisfiring, or blowing up; not just a few, but manyyourself, and your neighbor, and
his neighbor. And their neighbors. A cavalry charge just as it reaches full stretch, the horses begin to trip
and fall down as if they've forgotten how to gallopall of them. Men mistake their orders. Supply wagons
lose their wheels. Half a company all suddenly get grit in their eyes simultaneously and can't see where
they're goingor where to shoot. The sort of little things that always happen, but carried far beyond
probability. Men get superstitious about such things, however much they scoff at elves and witches and
so on. And it's pretty appalling to see your cavalry crumple up like they're all drunk, while these madmen
with nothing but swords and axes and bits of leather armor are coming down on you from every
directionand nobody seems to be firing at them from your side. I assure you I've seen it."
Richard shifted in his chair. "And Corlath"
"Yes, Corlath," the colonel continued, sounding still as unruffled as when he thanked Lady Amelia for
his cup of tea, while Sir Charles' face was getting redder and redder and he whuffled through his
mustache. It was hard not to believe Dedham; his voice was too level, and it rang with sincerity. "They
say that in Corlath the old kings have come again. You know he's begun to reunite some of the outlying
tribesthe ones that don't seem to owe anyone any particular allegiance, and who live by a sort of
equal-handed brigandry on anyone within easy reach."
"Yes, I know," said Sir Charles.
"Then you may also have heard some of the other sort of stories they've begun to tell about him. I
imagine he can call lightning to heel if he feels like it."
"This is the man who's coming here today?" said Lady Amelia; and even she now sounded a little
startled.
"Yes, Amelia, I'm afraid so."
"If he's so blasted clever," muttered Sir Charles, "what does he want with us?"
Dedham laughed. "Come now, Charles. Don't be sulky. I don't suppose even a magician can make
half a million Northerners disappear like raindrops in the ocean. We certainly need him to keep the
passes through his mountains closed. And it may be that he has decided that he needs usto mop up the
leaks, perhaps."
Lady Amelia stood up, and Harry reluctantly followed her. "We will leave you to discuss it. Is thereis
there anything I could do, could arrange? I'm afraid I know very little about entertaining nativechieftains.
Do you suppose he will want lunch?" She spread her hands and looked around the table.
Harry suppressed a smile at the thought of proper little Lady Amelia offering sandwiches, with the
crusts neatly trimmed off, and lemonade to this barbarian king. What would he look like? She thought: