"Nancy Springer - Isle 03 - The Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

a while, but no one slept. Alan had often heard Hal sing to the tune of his plinset, in manor halls or
alehouses or by a lonely campfire; but he had never known him to cast such a spell as he did that night.
Hearing him, or even looking at him, Alan wept. It was as if a silver magic flew on the notes of the music,
moved in his face with the mood of the song, flickered in his gleaming eyes. By daybreak, old Einon's
arms lay bare of gold, his jerkin stripped of jewels. He moved at last, stepped down from his dais, took
off his golden collar, and fastened it around the Sunset King's neck.

"More," he begged softly.

But Hal silently held up his fingers; the tips were bleeding. Einon's face crumpled.

"Minstrel," he whispered, "I have given to you as you have given to me. But now my wealth is spent.
What can I give you to sing for me?"

"For the sake of that blond-haired fellow there beside you," Hal answered quietly, "one more song."



"Him!" Einon burst out. "He is a lazy, useless, conniving Islender. What do you want with him? I'd rather
give you a horse."

"I already have a horse," Hal replied, and played his last lay. It was the story of Leuin of Laueroc, who
had died of torment in the" Dark Tower at Nemeton, and even Einon sensed that Hal had given his all in
giving that. The day brightened. Hal packed his instrument, gathered up his rewards, and rose to leave.

"Will you go with him, fellow?" Einon asked Alan roughly.

"Go with him!" Alan retorted. "I'd follow him into the sea! Good health to you, my lord." The two of
them walked out into daylight with Einon blinking after.

They rode off, both of them on Arundel. "I hope you're satisfied, Alan," Hal croaked when they were a
good distance away. "My throat will be sore for a week, my fingers are raw to the bone, and I never did
get my supper." So Alan brought out a packet of food he had stolen from the table.

"That's how they were," Trevyn concluded. "Faithful comrades ..." He fell silent, frowning.

"What did they do about Einon?" Meg asked after a while.

"What? Oh, nothing. They had the worth of ten years' tribute in gold and jewels, and what would have
been the use of telling him so? They let him alone, and when he died at an irascible old age, they found
him a more amiable heir."

"They are marvels, the Sun Kings," Meg said softly. Though she, like Trevyn, had never known the bad
times before Hal's reign.

"Faithful comrades," Trevyn muttered, still scowling at the ground. It had been many months, he realized,
since he had heard Hal sing. The Sunset King hardly stirred from his tower; he looked more often than
ever toward the west. An uneasy ache filled Trevyn at that thought.

The moon sent prickles of light through the tangled trees, and on the north wind rose the hunting cry of