"Andre Norton - Darkness and Dawn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

orchard trees. He watched them as he drank from the water in his canteen. The pain in his
leg was now a steady throb which arose into his head and settled in his templesтАФbeatтАФ
beatтАФbeatтАФ
Then Fors suddenly realized that that steady rhythm was not born of pain and fever.
There was an actual sound, hanging on the night air, low and carrying well. The
measured note bore no resemblance to any natural noise he had heard before. Only,
something in it suggested the odd crooning song of the fisherman. If something not
unlike the same series of notes was being tapped out on the head of a drum nowтАФ
Fors jerked upright. Bow and sword were within reach of his hand. The night, which
was never as dark for him as it was for others, was peaceful and emptyтАФsave for that
distant signal. Then it stopped, abruptly, almost in mid-note, with a suggestion of finality.
He guessed that he would not hear it again. But what could it mean?
Sound carried well in these lowlandsтАФeven if listeners did not have his keenness of
ear. A message sent by such a drum might carry safely across miles.
His fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. There was a trace of sound againтАФ
coming from the far southтАФa disturbance in the air so faint it might only be born of his
imagination.
But he did not believe that. The drummer was receiving an answer. Under his breath
Fors counted off secondsтАФfive, ten, fifteen, and then again silence. He tried to sort out
his impressions of the fishermanтАФand again came to the same conclusion. He was not
native to these lowlands, which meant that he was probably a scout, an explorer from the
south. Who or what was now moving up into these lands?


4
Four Legs Are Better Than Two
Even before dawn it began to rain, a steady, straight downpour which would last for
hours. Fors' wound was stiff and he had trouble crawling back into the corner of the hut
where the broken roof still afforded some protection. Lura rolled against him and the
warmth of her furry body was a comfort. But Fors was unable to drop back into the
restless, dream-broken sleep which had held him most of the night.
It was the thought of the day's travel still before him which plagued him. To walk far
would reopen the gash and he thought that he had a touch of fever. Yet he had to have
food and better shelter. And that drummingтАФBeing disabled he wanted to get out of the
near vicinity of the drummerтАФfast.
As soon as it was light enough for him to distinguish a black line on white paper he
got out his scrap of map, trying to guess his present positionтАФif it were on that fragment
at all. There were tiny red figures printed between certain pointsтАФthe measured miles of
the Old Ones who kept to the roads. By his reckoning he might yet be at least three days'
journey from the cityтАФif, of course, he was now where he believed himself to be. Three
days' journey for a strong and tireless traveler, not for a crippled limper. If he had a horse
nowтАФ
But the memory of Jarl with the horse herders put that thought out of his mind. If he
went to the Plains camp and tried to trade, the Star Captain would hear of it. And for a
novice to steal a mount out of one of the well-guarded herds was almost impossible even
if he were able-bodied. But he could not banish his wishтАФeven by repeating this
argument of stern commonsense.
Lura went out hunting. She would bring back her kill. Fors pulled himself up,
clenching his teeth against the pain that such movement gave his whole left side. He had
to have some sort of crutch or cane if he wanted to keep going. There was part of a