"Michael Moorcock - The Runestaff 3 - The Sword of The Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moorcock Michael)

Hawkmoon had been so astonished at hearing the name
that he had forgotten to order Tozer to remove the
leather from his face.

"Well," Tozer said, glancing about him. "It is a love-
ly countryЧthough short in audiences, I would gath-
er."

"Aye," replied Hawkmoon, nonplussed. "Aye . . ."
He gestured towards the horse. "We'll ride pillion, I
think. Into the saddle with you, Master Tozer."

Tozer swung up onto the horse and Hawkmoon fol-
lowed him, taking the reins and urging the horse into
a trot.

In this manner they rode until they came to the gates
of the town, passed through them, and proceeded slow-
ly through the winding streets, up the steep road to the
walls of Castle Brass.

Dismounting in the courtyard, Hawkmoon gave the
horse to a groom and indicated the door to the main
hall of the castle. "Through there, if you please," he
told Tozer.

With a small shrug, Tozer sauntered through the
door and bowed to the two men who stood there by the
great fire which blazed in the hall. Hawkmoon nodded
to them. "Good morning, Sir BowgentleЧD'Averc. I
have a prisoner..."

"So I see," D'Averc said, his gaunt, handsome fea-
tures brightening a little with interest. "Are the war-
riors of Granbretan at our gates again?"

"He is the only one, so far as I can judge," Hawk-
moon replied. "He claims to be Elvereza Tozer ..."

"Indeed?" The ascetic Bowgentle's quiet eyes took
on a look of curiosity. "The author of Chirshil and
Adulf? It is hard to believe."

Tozer's thin hand went to the mask and tugged at
the thongs securing it. "I know you, sir," he said. "We
met ten years hence when I came with my play to
Malaga."

"I recall the time. We discussed some poems you had
recently published and which I admired." Bowgentle