"Elizabeth Moon - Gird 02 - Liar's Oath" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

disapprove. She sounded as she might about an errant granddaughter. тАЬI think of her as Rosemage,тАЭ he said. тАЬSome call
her that.тАЭ
Another sniff. тАЬIt would not hurt either of you to ask EseaтАЩs guidance,тАЭ she said. тАЬYouтАЩve no time for foolishness, either
of you, at your ages.тАЭ Then, with a last nod, she left, leaning only slightly on ErisтАЩs arm. Luap followed silently to the
outer door, then climbed the stairs to his office. He felt even more unsettled than usual. Everyone wanted something from
him, but none of them agreed on what it was. All the decisions heтАЩd made so firmly, in good faith, seemed to be coming
apart, unravelling in his hands like rotting rope.




Chapter Three

┬л^┬╗
Through the hottest days of summer, Luap kept to his work. Gird wanted copies of the newest version of the Code spread
widely by late harvest; he asked no more about LuapтАЩs real father, only about how the copying proceeded. Aside from the
heat, the work suited Luap well. He could concentrate his mind on accuracy, on the precise flavor of a phrase, on GirdтАЩs
intention and its best expression. He had little time for memory, though he found forgotten courtesies creeping into his
speech. тАЬItтАЩs that old lady, eh?тАЭ asked Gird. Luap agreed it probably was, or perhaps Arranha. He tried not to think about
it, and claimed his work prevented visiting Dorhaniya until heтАЩd finished the Code. It was safer not to think of it, to
submerge himself in GirdтАЩs plans, to become, if he could, the eldest son or younger brother that Gird so desperately
needed.
But at last the copying had been done, and in the cooler fall weather, he had more than an excuse to leave Fin PanirтАФhe
could best be spared to carry the copies to the larger granges, where more copies could be made to send elsewhere. So it
was that on a dank autumn day he found himself peering along the bank of a stream for the overhanging rock and dark
entrance to a certain cave.
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LiarтАЩs Oath - The Legacy of Gird 02, Elizabeth Moon

He did not let himself wonder why he chose not to stay overnight at Soldin, knowing he could not reach Graymere by
sundown. When the chill autumn drizzle thickened to gusts of rain, he made for the cave directly. It was the only thing to
do. It was logical, reasonable, and he did not have to manufacture an excuse.
It bothered him slightly that he could think of making an excuse. He had legitimate business, GirdтАЩs business, in Soldin
and Graymere both. No one would have questioned his spending a night in the cave, even if anyone had seen him. The
yeoman-marshal in Soldin had suggested that he stay the night there, but obviously saw nothing amiss in GirdтАЩs luap
choosing to press on, even in bad weather. Young and earnest, he expected such dedication in GirdтАЩs personal staff.
Luap had wondered if other travelers used the caveтАж surely they did. But on this dank, dripping evening no smoke oozed
from the entrance, and no tethered mounts or draft teams snorted or stamped as he legged his own mount along the creek
bank. A pile of blackened rocks marked a firepit, obviously in recent useтАФbut not today. He would have it to himself,
unless someone showed up later. He hoped no one would, but he was grateful to the previous users, who had stacked dry
wood inside the entrance, out of the rain.
He got his fire going, and went out to gather more wood to dry beside it. Someone had improved the path down to the
creek, cutting steps and anchoring them with stone; the single plum he vaguely remembered had suckered into a thicket,
now dropping their narrow leaves to the sodden ground. By the time he had found wood to replace what he expected to
use, it was nearly dark.
His wet cloak steamed as he set his traveling kettle to boil. So did his horseтАЩs coat, and the smell of horse expanded, he
thought, to fill the cave as well as his head. Wet wool, wet horseтАж almost as bad as the stench of their army, the last
time. And then someone else had done the cooking. His head felt heavy, stuffed with thick smells and memoriesтАж
including that final memory, of GirdтАЩs fist against his skull. He ran his hands over his wet hair as if feeling for that old
lump. ThereтАФit had been there, and another bruise on the other side, where heтАЩd fallen against stone.