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

"Nay, the elves are real. But all of them except my mother have sailed to Elwestrand, a land beyond the
western sea." A faraway look filled Trevyn's eyes. "Hal sang of Elwestrand long before he knew it
existed anywhere but in his mind."
Meg grappled in vain for an answer to this. Trevyn had that look sometimes that can make a woman
weep, sad eyes and a smiling mouth. . . . But other times he had the look of eagles. After a moment he
went on.

"When Iscovar died, Hal and his followers ousted the evil lords, and my mother gave up her immortality
to marry my father. Those were strange times for him; he had never expected to be a King. But when Hal
found out they were brothers, he found Father his crown. Hal had never wanted power anyway, though it
was fated on him."

"How so?" Meg sat agape at this matter-of-fact talk of elves and destinies.

"It was written in The Book of Suns, the prophecies of the One. The Book made their kinship clear, and
told them that Hal would have no heir."

"I saw him once, and Queen Rosemary, as they rode to Celydon," Meg remarked. " Tis a shame they've
no children. But ye're lucky ye've no cousins or brothers to fight ye for the throne."

"I wish I had a dozen," Trevyn grumbled. "And they could have the throne, and welcome."

"Why?" asked Meg, not at all disconcerted.

"Never mind." Trevyn smiled in spite of himself. "Save your breath to cool your porridge, Meg."

"And let ye spend yers to swell yer wings of fancy? Ye're so bursting with portents and mysteries, how is
a poor girl to know the way of it?"

He had to laugh at her. It was a relief to see his forebodings as nonsense, even for a moment. Meg's
teasing was a balm on spirits too often darkened since the fight with the wolves.

Meg had long since learned that fellows liked her best if she jested with them. When she did it well, they
could forget that she was a skinny, plain-faced maid and treat her simply as a



friend. So she had no sweethearts, but at least she had male

company at the occasional social affairs of the countryside.

Her brave show fooled no one, not even herself. But she

made the best of what she had: a quick mind and a droll wit.

And when the Prince came, she bantered with him as was her

wont.

He had known no such easy companionship from the youths and maidens of Laueroc. They had shied