"Springer, Nancy - Book Of The Isle 05 - Golden Swan v1 0.rtf" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

"Perhaps he will, learn a different sort of valor from you," Trevyn added. "Perhaps that is what he has come here for, to learn from you."
How? I burst out. I cannot talk to him, I can't read or write, even. Any dog could serve him better. Mother of mercy, what am I to do? He will not want meЧ
Trevyn quieted me with a soft glance. We are not very different, you and I, that glance said. We are equals. I stood stunned.
"You will find your way, I am sure of it," he said. "I was a mute, too, for a while, when I was with your mother. Perhaps you are indeed intended to continue what I have begun. Remember the words of the seeress, and await the word of the One."
Chapter Three
Frain ate often during the next several days. When he was not eating, and sometimes as he ate, he talked with Trevyn. I would listen.
"Dair is my son," Trevyn explained when he judged it was time. Frain looked both shocked and dubious.
"But how can that be, my lord? Are you older than you seem? I would have said that you two were nearly of the same age."
"Nay, I am just twenty. And Dan- was born only two years ago. He was a wolf. They mature faster than human young," said Trevyn offhandedly. "There was some magic involved," he added after a moment.
"I should think so." Frain stared hard at me, his face like a mask. "Well, there is magic in Vale as well, though, it is a harsher magic than what I sense here, and there were creatures there that were half beast, and I was not afraid of themЧ"
"Magic, on the mainland?" Trevyn interrupted eagerly.
"I never really thought of Vale as part of the mainland."
He spoke of Vale at some length. It was a place apart, turned inward upon itself because of the mountains that ringed it all around. It was ruled by canton kings and a high kingship of sacred monarchs who often went mad. , Frain's foster brother Tirell was the son of one such king. Two things became clear as Frain spoke: one, that he loved his brother Tirell with a wolfs love, unquestioning. And the other, that Tirell had gone insane and hurt him badly. It was Tirell who had crippled his arm.
On top of that there was the matter of his fostering, of which he had been ignorant, that he had been given away at birth by his own parents. And on top of that there was the matter of Shamarra.
She was very beautiful with a delicate beauty, like crystal, pure and apart, like clear water. "She was the lake," Frain explained. "Or theЧ'being of the lake, the goddess of the lake. And the lake is very deep and shadowy and still, a hidden thing, it lies amid the mountains of death, what we call Acheron, where no one ever goes."
We have seen it, I said. Trevyn glanced at me sharply to hush me, for Frain found my voice disturbing. It took him some while to go on.
He had fallen into ardent love with Shamarra. He had looked into her lake without terror, bathed in it without being dragged down by dark fingers. Thus, all unawares, he had won his immortality. But Shamarra had loved TirellЧI heard the hard undertug of anger in Praia's voice, nearly hidden by the smooth surface flow of his wordsЧthough Tirell wanted only to avoid her. In the end she had offered herself to him, and in his madness he had taken her, savagely.
Raped her? The goddess? Did he really mean that? The words should have been cried out in rage or shock, but they were not. Neither of us knew how to answer Frain's unnatural calm. He stared back at us for a while and then turned away. .
"She went away dishonored, with her hair streaming down over her face," he said, and he would talk no more that day.
How Trevyn knew it of Frain, I am not sure, but it was true. Frain was frightened of the savagery within, of that which comes out in dark and dreams.
Though I had gone human, I was still a night creature by nature, napping by day, restless after dark. I roamed the castle when other folk were abed. And that night as I roamed I met with Frain. He was naked, for all folk slept naked in those days, and one glance told me he was not himself. His fair and gentle face was set in dangerous lines, and he walked like a beast that stalks its prey. As I watched, he crouched and crept his way to the great hall, and from the wall behind the dais he took a long smiting sword, an ornament that had not been used in yearsЧwell, there was no need in Isle. Then he stood there with the weapon in his one good hand and his withered arm dangling. He had to lean against the sword's weight and contort himself for balance. He stood hearkening, but when I made a noise he did not hear me. He was in some other place.
"Tirell," he breathed into the darkness. "Come and meet your doom, Tirell, for what you have done to me. Fabron, you deceiving bastardЧ"
Fabron was his father who had given him away. Frain stood taut and naked holding the great sword, cursing Fabron and Tirell with every sort of punishment he or his gods could visit on them. The hatred in those curses chilled me, that and the blind stare of those clear brown eyes in the night. I fled to get Trevyn.
"Sleepwalking," he said as soon as I had told him about Frain. He came with me, lacing his breeches as we ran. "He has been having trouble sleeping, so tonight they gave him a draught, and now he is sleeping with a vengeance. Where is he?"
Frain had left the great hall. After a few minutes we found him prowling catlike down one of the corridors. "Tirell, you coward, where are you?" he asked the night. The tone was full of threat. The sword was raised.
"I have to disarm him," Trevyn said. "Dair, go get me one of the wooden practice swords from the barracks."
He'll slice it right off, I protested.
"I think not. That sword is old, dull of edge. A wooden sword will do."
I brought it as quickly as I was able. Even so, Frain had stalked through a quarter of the castle by the time I got back, with Trevyn never far from his side, warning the guards out of his way. Frain had come out to a platform when I found them. Trevyn and a cluster of guards whispered nearby. Frain stood, no longer the coolheaded hunter, his anger pulsing hot, blood heat.
"Tirell!" He shouted the challenge, it rang from the stone walls. He had forgotten Fabron, it seemed.
Trevyn took the wooden sword from me and stepped forward to meet him. At the first touch of the mock blade to his own, Frain lunged forward, filled with lust to kill.
"Mothers!" Trevyn exclaimed, but it was not Frain's passion that surprised him. Frain was a master swordsman.
He was splendid, deadly. Even I could see that. The guards gasped, watching him. Trevyn was skillful, he had been well trained, but weapons had never been his main love. Dreaming had, and peace. There was no room for dreaming in that night.
"What am I to do with him?" Trevyn wondered aloud, breathing hard.
He had two good hands, and Frain had only one. Trevyn was trying to engage Frain's sword with his wooden one while he used his other hand to wrench it away. But it was all he could do to parry Frain's blows, far less get hold of that hilt. Frain was lightning fast, brilliant, murderous. Trevyn could not stand his ground. He gave way, circling back, feeling for advantage.
"Coward," Frain taunted.
Hardly a coward, who faced him with a mock weapon. The guards eyed each other, wondering if they could help Trevyn without breach of honor, without hurting his pride.
"Surround him, you fellows," Trevyn panted, forgetting pride for the time.
The guards-moved to obey. But before they reached Frain the wooden sword broke with a horrible snap. I shouted with fearЧFrain's sword flashed straight for Trevyn's head! He fell. But as the guards lunged forward a movement of his hand stopped them. And Frain stood still and lowered his long sword, breathed one last curse and walked away.
Trevyn waited until he was well down the corridor before he got up.
I thought you were as good as dead! I told him, shaking. There was a welt on his head. He smiled at me.
"Praise be, I caught the flat of it. And Frain is satisfied with his revenge. At least I hope he is."
He was. He went back to his bed and fell sound asleep. Some time later we slipped in and stole the sword away from him to take it back where it belonged. Trevyn went to see him first thing the next morning.
"What happened to you?" Frain demanded, staring. There was a bright red mark across the left side of Trevyn's forehead.
"I lost a bout to a better," Trevyn said wryly. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"
"IЧno. Please, my lord, no more draughts. I slept, but I had the mostЧterrible dream."
"No more draughts," Trevyn agreed readily, seating himself. "What was the dream?"
"IЧ" Frain looked down, uncomfortable. "I wasЧ quarreling with my brother."
"Oh?" said Trevyn, prodding for better truth. Quarreling was hardly the word.
"Really, my lord, it was nothing, it was of no significance. Dreams are unaccountable things." Frain looked quite pained. Trevyn had mercy on him, or a partial mercy.