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

the woman's gaunt face looked old and pinched, with scarcely a trace remaining of the beauty that had
once been the pride of her kindred. Zazar studied it carefully and laughed.
"So my little servants of the night cackle and squeak to a purpose, do they?

Ashenkin, Ash-daughter, where is your man now? Perhaps in time you would have prevailed, but you
never really had him save by the lusts of the body, and those quickly fade." She inclined her head a
fraction. "Yet you bore the child reluctantly. I remember your servant who came to me searching for the
medicine that I know you never touched. Was it because of one Power or another?" She paused,
thinking. "Or was it because you bore a changer and it would not set you free?"

There could be no answer from the dead, and at this time, Zazar had no desire to cast the bones and see
any farther than this room and this moment.

Kazi broke the silence timidly. "Is not named. The babyтАФ"

That was true; a girl must be mother-named, for custom is strong. Yet those mother lips would never
shape any sound again.

"Then I will name her," Zazar stated, almost as if she expected to be denied.

"Ashenkin she is, and bane of she who bore her she was. She is named Ashen

Deathdaugh-ter!"

Kazi uttered a squeal of protest. "Say it not! Say it not!"

"She will be Ashen, and for the rest, forget it now, Kazi."

Mud and bramble-slash had dimmed the bravery of the royal surcoats the soldiers wore, but even in
twilight, it was possible to see the tufts of feathers each man wore in his helm socket, and the design of
the Yew badgeтАФa circle of yew leaves surmounted by a bowтАФthat each bore upon breast and back.
Most strode away from the dead horse to cluster together, awaiting orders. One man, the best tracker
among them, was half crouched reading sign on the muddied ground.

"They was headed there, m'lord." He nodded toward the bank of the canal-river.

"Tracks still fresh. We be close behind them, right enough. I think they carried som-mat. Their steps is
heavier than they should be."

Lord Lackel of the House Troops of Her Gracious Ladyship the Queen, the man who stood a little apart,
his hands curved into fists resting on his hips, moved now.

"Hasard, the old wolf, has run his last trailтАФor has he? Down to the bank with you," he told the tracker.
"See what signs lie for the reading there. Hasard did not have much time." Now a bear's snarl showed
beneath the shadow of his helm.

"Yet with that twisty one, who can tell?"

It was plain that he spoke more to himself than to those he commanded, and there was a kind of wary
admiration in his last tone.