"Andrew J. Offutt - Cormac 01 - The Mists of Doom" - читать интересную книгу автора (Offutt Andrew J)

тАЬSome of those in the service of Crom and Behl,тАЭ the peasant muttered, but not so loudly as to be heard by
aught of ears other than his own, тАЬcount themselves too high among mere men... other mere men,тАЭ he added,
for all of his sea-bounded land were proud and few acknowledged themselves lowlyтАФwhen they were not
within lordly earshot.
He wended on to his little house of stout wood and roof of wattle and thatch with its dangling, dripping
tie-stones, and when his wife Faencha did chiding on him for his tardiness, he was sharp with her. In a
morose silence he ate his porkish supper and drank ale that was little more than barleywater whilst she
overbusied her good self with her embroidery.
The man in the druidic robe meanwhile approached the wall that had been raised about the splendid house of
the High-king; of oak was the wall, and over half a foot in thickness.
There he came upon two men in bronze-decorated helmets and close-pulled cloaks of scarlet wool. Their
bare, fog-wet hands were fisted about the hafts of long spears, each banded twice with bronze. Nor said they
aught, but only stared. The newcomerтАЩs flowing sleeve whispered with the extending of his arm. They gazed
on his fist, and at the signet there, and they nodded. The gate was opened respectfully for the faceless man,
who passed through without the speaking of a word.
тАЬGood it is to see a druid abroad and wearing a ring of the High-king himself, Cairthide,тАЭ one of the sentries
muttered, whilst they closed the gate, тАЬand his wife and so many others believers in the New God.тАЭ
тАЬGood it is to be knowing a druidтАЩs about at all, on such a night as this!тАЭ Cairthide said. His sigh emerged
tremulously for he shivered. тАЬA good night for hearth and aleтАФand locked door!тАЭ
His companion coughed and sniffed.
Through the grounds of the High-king strode the hooded man who seemed to have no legs. Outbuildings for
storage and creaming and smithing and the housing of animals had been scattered randomly, so that it was
no straight course he took. The fog was both thinner and lower to the wet wet earth as he approached the
rising rig-thig, as though the high son of Laegaire was immune, respected even by the powers of earth and
water and the sky that had come down this night to blanket the earth.
At the very walls of the High-kingтАЩs manse, the walker in the fog was again challenged by two men. Helmeted
they were, and mailed, armed with swords and bucklers with brazen decor, and long spears and each man
draped in a cloak of dark red woollen. These stalwarts took note of the newcomerтАЩs long walking-staff, that
might have been a cudgel but for his druidтАЩs robe.
The robe-swathed man said no word, but again showed them his fist on which flashed a ring of gold and
enamel and carbuncle.
тАЬEnter then, Lord Druid,тАЭ one sentry said, opening the great door.
тАЬAnd come ye in from such a surly night, Lord Druid,тАЭ the other said, with a smile, though he did not forget
the respectful inclining of his head in its shining round helm.
Robes of dark green rustled like fallen leaves; leather heels fell softly; the holly stick tapped once and then
was lifted clear of the floor. Otherwise in silence, the visitor passed them by. From the wall he took a candle,
which he waved a bit that it might flare the better while he paced through the dark defense-hall. On his way to
the chamber he sought in that high house he saw only a woman abroad. She was not the wife of the
High-king, and made a little obeisance as the cowled robe passed. It gave no sign of acknowledgement.
A tawny-haired man in clean green leggings and blue smock of wool sat before the door the visitor
approached. The door seemed to crawl with carven knotwork and fantastickal animals, lit and as if animated
by the torch burning in a cresset of bronze to either side.
тАЬThe lord High-king is receiving no visitors, Druid.тАЭ
Once again the cowled man displayed his ring, and in silence. The other gazed upon it, blinking.
For the first time, a voice emerged from the hood. In the middle range it was, and a bit strained as though its
owner had need to cough. The voice betrayed too a certain shortness of breath, for Tara Hill was no brief or
easy climb.
тАЬIt is disrespectful ye be, boy, and not minded to hide it. That will come as ye gain in wisdom. Be ye follower
of Iosa Chriost?тАЭ
тАЬAye, Lord Druid,тАЭ the green-legged man said quietly, and belligerence was absent from his voice and