"Michael Moorcock - Castle Brass 2 - The Champion of Garathor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

darker, less accessible parts of underground Londra? I have had little news from her in recent
months. I wonder if the situation has worsened, so that she devotes more time to it'
'You have had a letter from her recently, surely?'
'By messenger. Two days ago. Aye. The letter was much briefer, however, than those she used to
send. It was almost for-mal. Merely extending the usual invitation to visit her when-ever I
desired.'
'Could it be that, of late, she has become offended that you have not taken her up on her offer of
hospitality?' Vedla sug-gested. 'Perhaps she thinks you do not feel friendship for her.'
'On the contrary, she is the nearest thing to my heart save for my memory of my own dead
daughter.'
'But you have not indicated as much?' Vedla poured him-self more wine. 'Women require these
affirmations, you know. Even queens.'
'Flana is above such feelings. She is too intelligent. Too sen-sible. Too kind.'
'Possibly,' said Captain Vedla, as if he doubted Count Brass's words.
Count Brass understood the implication. 'You think I should write to her in more - more flowery
terms?"
'Well...' Captain Vedla grinned.
'I was never capable of these literary flourishes.'
'Your style at its best (and on whatever subject) usually re-sembles communiques issued in the
field during the heat of a battle,' Captain Vedla admitted. 'Though I do not mean that as an
insult. On the contrary.'
Count Brass shrugged. 'I would not like Flana to think I did not remember her with anything but
the greatest affection. Yet I cannot write. I suppose I should go to Londra - accept her offer.'
He stared around his shadowed hall. 'It might be a change. This place has become almost
overpoweringly gloomy of late.'
'You could take Hawkmoon with you. He was fond of Flana. It might be the only thing likely to
attract him away from his toy soldiers.' Captain Vedla caught himself speaking sardon-ically and
regretted it. He had every sympathy for Hawkmoon, every respect for him, even in his present state
of mind. But Hawkmoon's brooding was a strain on all who had been even remotely connected with him
in the past.
'I'll suggest it to him,' said Count Brass. Count Brass under-stood his own feelings. Much of him
wanted to get away from Hawkmoon for a while. Yet his conscience would not let him go alone at
least until he had put the idea to his old friend. And Vedla was right. A trip to Londra might
force Hawkmoon out of his brooding mood. The chances were, however, that it would not. In which
case, Count Brass anticipated a journey and a visit involving more emotional strain on himself and
the rest of his party then that which they now experienced within the confines of Castle Brass.
'I'll speak to him in the morning,' Count Brass said after a pause. 'Perhaps by returning to
Londra itself, rather than by involving himself with models of the place, the melancholy in him
will be exercised...'
Captain Vedla agreed. 'It is something we should have con-sidered earlier, maybe?'
Count Brass was, without rancour, thinking that Captain Vedla was expressing a certain amount of
self-interest when he suggested that Hawkmoon go with him to Londra.
'And would you journey with us, Captain Vedla?' he asked with a faint smile.
'Someone would be needed here to act on your behalf ...' Vedla said. 'However, if the Duke of Koln
declined to go then, of course, I would be glad to accompany you.'
'I understand you, captain.' Count Brass leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine and regarding
his old friend with a cer-tain amount of humour.
After Captain Josef Vedla had left, Count Brass remained in his chair. He was still smiling. He
cherished his amusement, for it had been a long while since he had felt any at all. And now that