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

one's selfтАж

Out in the stream, the boat dipped and dragged as if some weight had attached itself to its stern. Then the
water about it was whipped to a frenzy of splashes, and those on the bank retreated. The reports of what
might be encountered deep in the Bale-Bog were bloodily graphic. They saw a man's hand slip from the
rough wood as a second body was dragged from the boat and under the water. Not all had fallen to
arrows, Ash or otherwise.

"Lord! There by the bow!"

They had no torch lit, but the pale glow that hung above the boat, looking like some corpse-light of its
own, revealed the scene clearly enough. Lackel did not see a woman's body, and reasoned that she, less
strong than a man and weakened further by the child she bore, had already perished and been dragged
away by the creature that was even now devouring the corpses of two soldiers who had accompanied
her.

He laughed and raised his hand in mock salute to the other shore. "So, Bog-folk, you have served our
purposes," he said softly. "Ready not yourself, for we are not warring on you, nor are we on the hunt
today. Indeed, this night we have been on a mission that you seem to have finished for us. And for that,
we give you thanks."

His men were retreating. Each walked backward, steel showing in hopes it could be seen by whatever
might emerge from the deeps to drag them down. They were as white-eyed as horses forced into battle
against their will.

He raised his voice. "Enough! It is plain that the trail has reached its end and that whoever wrought this
has served our purpose."

Still, he could not rid his mind of that Ash arrow planted in Ash flesh. The

Bog-folk were one thing, but the arrow another. He knew, if his men did not, that no commander from
one House would countenance the use of another House's badge or distinctive arrows, not even to throw
a pursuer off a scent.

They played deep games at court, and there had been enough rumors abroad these past few days about
so-called hunting parties that were better armed for raiding. The Ashenkin might well have a reason for
such a split in their forces.

A King's son held in secretтАФwhether born of a Queen or of a lesser motherтАФnow that could be a rare
prize, especially for a waning House.

If so, their plan had ended at the Bog border, as had that of his own troop. He could make this report in
all truth, and he believed that she who was his liege-lady would find it to her liking.

Joal, headman of the Bog-folk, stood scowling barely inside the doorway of

Zazar's dwelling. His face twisted with a grimace of distaste at the body that still lay on the floor.
"Outlander! Send it to pools. Feed silent ones." He was a short, misshapen man whose wiry thicket of
graying hair was knotted up with the finger-bones of at least five enemies. Others of the Bog-folk
crowded behind him, but none wanted any more than he to cross that threshold.