"Roberts, John Maddox - Stormlands 03 - The Poisoned Lands UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Roberts John Maddox)

"There is that," she said. "My people don't speak of spirits, but maybe we mean the same thing."
He found this confusing, but he had given up on getting a straight, simple answer from her. They rode on until the light was so dim that he could see no more than a hundred paces ahead. He would have stopped earlier, but his pride would not let him demand a halt. When he could barely see her ahead of him, he decided he had had enough.
"It is foolish to ride in the dark. You must be lost."
She looked back and he saw her teeth flash white in the gloom. "Oh, I know this way well. We will go just a little farther and stop for the night."
Sorry that he had spoken, he held his peace. In some obscure way, he felt belittled. They rode on for a few more minutes, then she stopped and dismounted. They tethered their cabos to trees and unloaded their saddles and gear. Ansa rubbed his animal down and then began to care for Fyana's mount. As he did he noticed an orange glow. She had started a tire.
"I didn't hear you strike a light."
She looked up from the flames. "There are other ways to start a fire."
He began to rub down the beast more roughly than necessary. More tricks. The animals seen to, he walked to the fire and sat wearily on the thin stack of his blankets. She handed him a skin and he drank deeply. It was watered wine mixed with herbs and it went down well after the long, dry ride.
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"Why do you speak in riddles, when you speak at all?" he asked her.
"I am not riddling, or trying to confuse you," she said. "But there are many things that are not easily answered. How do you explain how you shoot to one who has never seen a bow or an arrow? How would you explain the difference between shooting at a still target and one that moves?"
He thought for a while. "I would demonstrate."
"You could do that, if you had your bow handy. Even if you got the idea across, the one to whom you demonstrated could not take up your bow and use it as well as you, could he?"
"No," he admitted. "I began shooting as a child, but I was near manhood before I reached full proficiency." He tossed a stick into the fire and it sent up a shower of sparks,
"And archery is a manual skill, requiring a few simple tools. How much more difficult to express something which employs only the mind and is entwined with a whole way of life?"
"I had not thought of it that way. I would appreciate it, though, if from now on you would say something of the sort, instead of just smiling to yourself as if you possessed some secret knowledge which the ignorant outlander has no hope of comprehending."
He thought she looked abashed. "I am sorry. Hereafter I will do my best to explain things. I fear that I may not be successful."
"Just so the effort is made," he said. "Now, how far is it to the Canyon?"
"Nor far. In fact, I recommend that you do not wander around in the dark tonight. You might fall into it.''
"Still having fun with me," he muttered as he spread out his blankets. He thrust his lance into the ground by its butt-spike and arranged his sword and knife over his saddle, where they would be ready to his grasp should an unpleasant surprise interrupt his sleep.
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For a while he lay awake, his head resting on his hands, his fingers interlaced. There was a mild, cool breeze, but the trees overhead resounded to the slightest movement of the air, giving forth a sighing sound that was extraordinarily restful. He closed his eyes and decided that, whatever she said to the contrary, this place was full of spirits.
He awoke in the gray light of dawn. Immediately, without making a movement, he took stock of his surroundings. There seemed to be no threat, but he sat up slowly. The cabos dozed with their heads down. On the other side of the fire, Fyana was still bundled in her blankets, with just the top of her blond head showing.
Silently, he rose and picked up his weapons belt. He waited away from the campsite as quietly as if he were stalking prey. When he was well out of sight, he set his weapons on the ground and prepared to relieve himself. He was just out of the trees and in the dim light the land before him looked decidedly odd. Opening his trousers, he blinked to clear his vision, but the vista before him remained strange. Then he decided that this uncanny place was affecting his hearing as well, because his activity was not rewarded with the customary patter of water falling upon dry evergreen needles. He looked down and his heart shot up into his throat and pounded there as he saw that his stream arched past his toes and down into an abyss at least a thousand feet deep. He stood on the lip of the most horrendous drop-off he had ever encountered in his life. Raising his eyes, he saw the reason for his confusion. The Canyon was a feature of such immensity that a mind unprepared for it had no grasp of its scale. It was a gash in the earth so vast that mountains were minor elevations within its bowl.
As the light grew, the Canyon's colors began to emerge, some subtle, others dazzling. Time, wind and water had carved the rock of the Canyon into shapes he would not have thought possible outside of dreams. The tortured yet
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beautiful wonderland stretched as far as he could see. His shock and momentary terror dissipated as a sense of exultation struck deep into him. As jolting as the experience had been, he was glad that he had discovered the place in this fashion, instead of it coming before him a bit at a time as he rode, with Fyana telling him what to expect.
"Isn't it beautiful?" It was her voice behind him. Hastily, he closed his trousers and turned.
"A mild word. Last night I thought you were gulling me again, saying that I might fall in in the dark. I almost did."
She joined him at the dizzying brink and pointed down. "Look. Do you see that thin silver ribbon winding around the base of that hill?"
"I see it, just barely. Is that a small river?" He was still troubled by the scale.
"That is the River Kol."
"It can't be!" he exclaimed. "Then again, that is a foolish thing to say. This canyon holds mountains. But how can a mighty river look so small? How deep is it?"
"More than a mile at this point. This is one of the deepest spots."
"Truly? A mile doesn't seem so great on level ground. It is different to see it straight down. How long and how wide is it?"
She pointed straight ahead. "More than twenty miles from one side to the other." She spread her arms wide. "At least two hundred miles from end to end."
He sat on the rim, letting his feet dangle in the emptiness. "I think I could stay here for a year and never tire of looking upon this."
"It's not even full light yet. Wait until you see it then. The view, especially the colors, change from hour to hour. The very shapes of the rocks and hills seem to alter with the passing day."
"I am glad that I came to see this. I would have missed something glorious otherwise." Below him, huge ledges
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sprouted brush thickets and even small forests. Animals grazed and browsed among the growths, insectlike in the distance.
"Where do we go from here?" he asked, tearing his gaze away reluctantly.
"About five miles to the east there is a trail that descends to the floor of the Canyon. It will take most of the day to reach the bottom."
"I am surprised that it can be done in one day."
They returned to the campsite and retrieved their belongings and their mounts. Fyana led them to a rock-lined pond fed by a tiny stream and they let the animals drink. Then they mounted and rode east along the rim of the Canyon.
"I've seen no sign of people," Ansa noted.