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

watched them from her window as she gave her baby his first milk.

"I have forgotten nothing," Hal told her sharply.
 "So he is fated to travel ways far and solitary and strange to us," she said, ignoring the tone. "He will
leave the mother┬мhood of earth, at least for a while; sea and sky will claim him. But I hope not yet. He
dreams because he is young, and he shrinks from the grief that drapes his life these days. Alan is of no
help to him. He is so fogged with bitterness that he scarcely sees beyond his own pain."

"I cannot help him," Hal whispered.

"I know it." Lysse spoke with mindful understanding.

"But the lad," Hal continued. "He flees from more than sorrow, I think."

"You think he flees? From Gwern?"

"Ah, the wyrd," Hal murmured. "There is a portent for you, of great weight. I tell you, Trevyn will be
more important than any of us, more than King, more than Very King. Of all the Kings of Isle and Welas,
I know of none that have had a wyrd."

"Why, what is a wyrd?" Lysse asked curiously.

"More than comrade, more than brother or blood brother, more than second self. Alan was all of those
to me. . . ." Hal floundered. "How I wish I knew. I can only sense dimly that the wyrd is one who will be
sacrificed when the time comes." Hal dosed his eyes. "Suffering and sacrificeтАФthey are required of any
true king. How much more, then, of Trevyn. . . . He will blunder into the teeth of suffering soon."

"I believe he has already begun. But I don't understand." Lysse creased her fair brow. "Who will
sacrifice Gwern? And why?"

"Aene. Or the goddess. For greatness." He stirred slightly, faced her again. "There are marvels to come,
a quickening, new magic, or old magic made new. . . . There are things I could never do, and they will be
done. That mystic sword I found will be thrown in the sea at last; I have seen that. An elfin King must hurl
it away, to end the long shadow of Lyrdion on our land. I was never able to do it; 'twas all I could do to
touch that weapon once, then walk away."



Lysse leaned forward with as much excitement as he had ever known her to show. "What else?"

"Something about unicorns, and the shape where two circles meet, the spindle shape. And the seeress . .
. Trevyn mounted on a cat-eyed steed. Virgins and dragons . . . Do you think it might be a girl he's
running from?"

"It has occurred to me," Lysse snapped. "What was Trevyn doing on such a peculiar horse?"

"Bringing the legends back to Isle, from Elwestrand. To travel to Elwestrand and returnтАФI could never
do that. It has never been done. But he shall do it. Trevyn shall, the young fool. I have seen."

"Mother of mercy," she-murmured, stunned. "You haven't told him!"