"Michael Moorcock - Castle Brass 3 - The Quest for Tanelorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

came through the marshes to the town. He saw the rider. He was coming swiftly, at a steady
canter, sitting upright in his saddle, sitting proudly, it seemed to Hawkmoon. And the riderтАЩs outline
was familiar. Rather than peer at the distant figure, Hawkmoon turned away from the window,
prepared to wait until it was closer and could be identified easily.
тАШAn old friend - or an old enemy,тАЩ he said. тАШI recognize something about his stance.тАЩ
тАШWe have had no announcement,тАЩ said Count Brass. He shrugged. тАШBut these are not the old days.
These are calmer times.тАЩ
тАШFor some,тАЩ said Hawkmoon, then he regretted the self-pity in his tone. He had had too much of
such emotions. Now that he was rid of them he was, perhaps, overly sensitive to any traces of their
return he detected in himself. From an over-indulgence in such feelings, he had now gone to a
mood of intense stoicism which was a relief to all save those who knew him best and had the
greatest affection for him. Sensitive to his thoughts, Yisselda reached to place delicate fingers
upon his lips and then his cheek. Gratefully, he smiled at her, drawing her to him and kissing her
lightly upon the forehead.
тАШNow I must prepare for our journey,тАЩ she said.
Hawkmoon was already dressed in the clothes in which he intended to travel.
тАШWill you and father wait here to receive our visitor?тАЩ she asked Hawkmoon.
He nodded. тАШI think so. There is always hope that...тАЩ
тАШDo not expect it, my dear. There is little chance that he will bring news of Manfred and Yarmila.тАЩ
тАШTrue.тАЩ
With another smile at her father, Yisselda left the room.
Count Brass strode to a table of polished oak on which a tray had been set. He lifted a pewter jug.
тАШWould you share a glass of wine with me, Hawkmoon, before you go?тАЩ
тАШThank you.тАЩ
Hawkmoon joined Count Brass at the table, accepting the carved wooden goblet the old warrior
handed him. He sipped the wine and resisted the temptation to return to the window to see if he
recognized the traveller.
тАШMore than ever, I regret that Bowgentle is not here to advise us,тАЩ said Count Brass. тАШAll this talk of
other planes of existence, of other possibilities, of dead friends still alive - it smacks of the occult.
All my life I have looked with a cold eye upon superstitions; I have scoffed at pseudo-philosophical
speculation. But I have not the kind of mind which can easily distinguish between mumbo-jumbo
and that which falls into the province of the genuinely metaphysical.тАЩ
тАШDo not misinterpret what I say as morbid brooding,тАЩ Hawkmoon replied, тАШbut I have reason to hope
that Bowgentle may, one day, be restored to us.тАЩ
The difference between us, I suppose,тАЩ said Count Brass, тАШis that you, for all your rediscovered
toughness of mind, continue to allow yourself to entertain many forms of hope. Long ago, I
dismissed Faith altogether - at least from my conscious thoughts. Yet you, Hawkmoon, discover it
over and over again.тАЩ
тАШAye - through many lives.тАЩ
тАШWhat?тАЩ
тАШI refer to my dreams. To those strange dreams of myself in so many different incarnations. I had
identified those dreams with my madness, but now I am not so sure. They still come to me, you
know.тАЩ
тАШYou have not mentioned them since you returned here with Yisselda.тАЩ
тАШThey have not tormented me as they once did. But they are familiar, still.тАЩ
тАШEvery night?тАЩ
тАШAye. Every night. The names - Elric, Erekose, Corum -those are the chief ones. And there are
others. And sometimes I see the Runestaff, and sometimes a black sword. All seem significant.
And sometimes, when I am alone, particularly when I ride the marshlands, they come to me in my
waking hours. Faces, familiar and unfamiliar, float before me. Snatches of words are heard. And