"Andre Norton - Oak, Yew, Ash & Rowan 3 - A Crown Disowned" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

of the Web of Time over which she toiled. She had to accept the truth of their words. She could not
remove all traces of compassion for the mortals who bravely arose to face the horrors in the snow and
the many who perished here, trampled under the feet of the monstrous beasts that appeared from out of
the past where they had once been locked away. Gently, she touched one of the life-threads entangled in
the struggle. It was strong and vigorous, but she knew it would snap ere long. "This is one of the great
ones," she observed, trying to keep her tone neutral. "Or, he could have been great had he been wise.
And had he not been cut down untimely."

Interested in spite of herself, the Middle Sister came and peered over her shoulder. "And you wonder if
his death is in vain?" she said.

"There must be those who mourn. He leaves confusion in his passing."

"And so has it ever been with great ones of the mortal kind," said the Eldest, more than a little crossly.
"Very well, if that portion of the Web draws you so irresistibly, then by all means, work on it."

"I agree," said the Middle Sister with a sigh. "But let it direct you, and do not meddle."

"Thank you, Sisters."

Grateful for the permission given, the Youngest straightened the kinks from her shoulders as she glanced
back along what had been completed in Time's Web. There all was order, in recorded lives and death,
and even Kingdoms' rise and passing.

There the Three had worked generally in harmony until this latest coil had arisen. With some measure of
tran-quility restored among the Weavers, she knew that she was now strong enough to suppress the pity
she could not help feeling.

She would offer no mercy to those who were doomed, and above all not meddle with the design, for it
would be follyтАФand worse, it would ruin the work.

At peace once more, the Youngest addressed herself to the area where the white tangle was deepest and
most confused. Under her patient fingers, it began at last to take form and shape, though what it showed
would have daunted any but one of the Three.

And as always, the living continued to believe that they were free to make decisions, to act as they
believed fit, even as their threads passed through the fingers of the Weavers.

One

Rohan tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, though he did not unsheathe the weapon. Much
depended on this meeting between himself, as leader of the

Sea-Rovers, and Tusser, leader of the Bog-people.

Instead of returning to Rendelsham as Granddam Zazar had instructed him, or even to the Oakenkeep,
he had gone south to New Void, wanting the companionship of blood kindred. There he had learned that
the Bog-people had resumed their raids on farms and small holdings.

"Hunger drives them," Snolli said, "but that doesn't put bread on our table.