"Andre Norton - Oak, Yew, Ash & Rowan 1 - To The King A Daughter" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

sign of pain from her, she looked up into the weathered face of Hasard, the Marshal of the House of
Ash. The icy wind drove the ends of a wide, gray mustache against his half-hidden lips.

"I do as well as I might, my lord." She brought out the words one by one, as if they were separately
strung on a too-loose cord. Somehow, she summoned the pitiful shadow of a smile.

Two men wearing beggars' trappings over studded leather were stripping the bags from the downed
horse. She could not see their faces. For a moment, her vision dimmed, overridden by the thrust of pain
that swept through her. They were all who were leftтАФjust the two soldiers and the man who had once
led the Ash host.

And somehow she believed it was the fierce determination of the man now steadying her that had brought
them also to this ending. She must strive to honor him with her strength, such as it was, and not betray his
faithfulness by a display of female weakness.

Their greatest need was shelter. Without shelter, they would all be stark by morning. Ashenhold, where
they might have been safe, was denied them. Again her hand supported her heavy belly.

HasardтАФhis appearance far different from what it had been in the days of his splendor as the Marshal of
Ashenhold and the command he had led with keen wits and all the knowledge of one soldiering from
boyhoodтАФstill sheltered her as best he could. He made his body a shield between her and as many of
those icy blasts as he could wall away. There was not time nowтАФ

So many lives dashed out, ended by dagger in the dark, by sword during day, by poison offered with a
sly smile that touched only one corner of the mouth. So many women dead, all of them Ash. She tried to
shut it out of her memory but could not escape the fact that not only did she exist because of the child she
boreтАФwhom her pursuers would pluck from her living body if they couldтАФ but that the very child also
brought her the greatest of danger. Once she had thought to deny; no more. In her womb she carried the
heir not only to Ash, but to Oak as well, if the King's wishes would prevail when it came to heir-naming,
for this was his only progeny, whether legal or not. Certainly her child was greater than she and her
present companions combined. They had fled on this very night, bearing the Ash badge, trying to escape
the Yew badge of the Queen who would reach beyond death itself for revenge, should that be necessary.

"Sir?" The men who had dealt with the horse awaited orders.

She felt rather than saw Hasard's head lift. His hoarse voice broke through the screech of the storm. "The
riverтАФ"

Ah, yes, the river; her wits were growing more murky. That waterway, part natural, part man-enhanced,
had always been a merchant's path, but in fairer weather. Tonight it might not gain them safety in either
direction, not from those who pursued, but there was no other road for them to follow.

One of the men pushed past her and her loyal protector. Could they indeed have reached a previously
prepared point of safety in spite of the storm, despite her weakness?

With all the Ash Family pride she could muster, she kept to her feet when, a few moments later, Hasard
urged her forward, step by faltering step. However, she could not go far on sheer nerve alone. She was
near to fainting when she became dimly aware of being lifted, deposited on a damp pile of something that
smelled like dead fish and things long rotten. It must have been a litter. She knew that it swung as they
boarded a raftlike boat meant for the transport of heavy goods.