"Andre Norton & A C Crispin - Song Smith - uc" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

Prologue

Life as a songsmith, a forger and singer of tales, seems to the
uninitiated (that is, those who have never tried it) to be a most
carefree existence, full of travel, romance and perhaps (only
now and then, for spice) a little danger. In truth, it seldom
reaches such memorable heights, being mostly work like unto
any other.

One listens, one remembers, then one wrestles with words
and musical notes to hammer all into a coherent whole, hop-
ing fervently that the finished product will elicit smiles instead
of frowns, or, worse, yawns. One learns to count the night's
takings from the clinks in the harp case, discerning the clear
ring of silver from the thud of bronze and copper or (fortune




2 ANDRE NORTON AND A.C. CRISPIN

be praised) the weighty, rare whisper of goldЧall by sound
alone. One spends nights huddled under the lash of rain, or
stinging snow, with perhaps naught but a pocket of sullen fire
to hold back the hungry night. One leams to heat brook water
and sip it slowly in lieu of real food, trying thus to fool an
empty belly. ...

No, my lords and ladies, gathered here in this age-held
citadel to hear the songsmith and sip your wine, the life of a
bard is hardly carefree.

There are times, though, when the music and the tale are
worth it all. Then the tune flows like the ripple of a fine horse's
mane, words spring nearly unbidden to the singer's lips. Such
a time is now, following the toasts and congratulations that
accompany a day of ceremony, high feasting and joy, here in
such a lordly keep. Now, after the singing of some of the
oldest, best tales, it is time for the birth of a new one... a tale
that songsmiths will hold in special honor, for reasons soon to
be made clear to you.

So ... an opening chord-sweep, a strum to mimic the sound
of wind harrying a cold, early spring mist in the backwater
alley of a darkened waterfront, and the new tale opens. . . .

One