"Springer, Nancy - Book Of The Isle 3 - Sable Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Springer Nancy)

"What is her name?" Maeve asked as she and Trevyn worked in the kitchen later that night.
"Who?"
"Your sweetheart ."The one you dreamed about sometimes as you lay with me." There was no bitterness in her voice, and she glanced with some surprise at his burning face. "There is no need for shame!"
"Her name is Meg," Trevyn replied slowly. "She is a little peasant who lives by the Forest near Lee. ... I don't know why she cozens my mind so."
"There is no need for a reason." She was packing food for their journey, and Emrist was asleep; his adventure had left him exhausted. On the morrow, he and Trevyn would start toward Kantukal. But Trevyn hardly knew how to take leave of Maeve.

"It is true, I have loved you in my way," she remarked, reading his thoughts again. "But my way is only the way of the wild things that know their seasons. I am bound by nothing, and no one owns me, or is owned. . . . Go from here in all peace, Alberic."
She had made him her king, now. So, since he had nothing to say, he nodded and left her there.

Chapter Four
With first light, Trevyn and Emrist took to the road. Trevyn wore the sword he had won from the robbers, and he carried the wolfish parchment in a fold of leather, gingerly, as if it might burn. As they walked, Emrist explained to him about the cult of the Wolf.
"Wael is chief priest; he speaks for the Wolf." Trevyn nodded in understanding; Hal and Alan had banished such powerful sorcerers from Isle. "So folk raise idols in its honor in Kantukal, and the coffers of its temples grow rich. That is nothing new; there are many such gods. But this one is vile even in the reckoning of Tokarians; its rituals are unspeakable. Human sacrifice is not the worst of it. People live utterly in fear of the Wolf. I have known for months that I must try to-destroy it-"
Emrist faltered to a stop, conscious of the contrast between his slight physique and his brave talk. But Trevyn soberly waited for him to go on. He knew the power and stature of his master.
"So I went to buy a mute," Emrist said at last, "I, who have never bought a slave. I needed someone to stand by me in

case my body failed me, someone who could not ever utter the spells, for they are perilous."
"And yet you did not use me?"
"Nay. . . . You had bled, Freca. . . ." Emrist grimaced, mocking himself. "Of course, Maeve offered to help. Truth is, I could not bear to risk either of you. And I wanted to face Wael myself."
"Wael? But you summoned the Wolf."
"Nay, I summoned Wael," Emrist corrected grimly. "There is no Wolf without Wael."
"But what was that black phantom-"
"A thing of smoke and fire. Your hand passed through it
unharmed. Any sorcerer could make one as fine-though I
confess I was not expecting it last night." Emrist glanced at
Trevyn, half laughing, half angry. "Wael has made a fool of
me." ?
"Wael was there?" Trevyn breathed.
"He was there. You felt the fear?"
"Ay, terrible fear." He shuddered at the memory.
"That was the fear of his living spirit, which I summoned. Without its mask of flesh, the evil of his soul overwhelmed us. That and the shock of something not understood." Emrist shook his head ruefully. "How stupid I was to be so taken in!"
"Well, you will have your chance for revenge," Trevyn muttered. He tripped over a twisting root and scarcely noticed the bump, thinking. "Then that was Wael, too, in the laughing wolf in Isle," he finally said.
"I thought teeth made the occasion for those brands!" Emrist exclaimed. "Ay, I do not doubt it."
"How are we to get the brooch back from him, Emrist? What do you know of Wael?"
The magician sat down on a shady bank to answer. Trevyn sat beside him, restraining his impatience at their slow progress.
"I have often watched him by the power of my inner eye," Emrist said when he was settled. "I have seen him with the king, or in court, or at his vile rites, or alone in his chamber. Rheged places much dependence on him, and his days are full of consultation."

Trevyn peered. "And where does. he keep the brooch during all this consultation?"
Emrist had to smile at his eagerness. "Why, on him, of course," he answered gently. "Or else the spell would not take."
"On him?" echoed Trevyn numbly.
"Ay, even when he sleeps. It must always touch his skin, you see, to draw. He wears it pinned inside his shirt, facing his stony heart. I saw him pin it there."
"Mother of mercy!" Trevyn swore morosely. "I am likely to need this bloody hacking sword."
"Unless it is a magical sword, it will be of small avail against Wael. Nay, we can only face him with our own poor powers. . . . And what an ass he has made of me!" Emrist sighed hugely. "I might have been slain by sheer, foolish fright last night if it had not been for you. I owe you my thanks, Freca." He spoke the name with warm affection.
Trevyn reddened at the words. "You owe me nothing," he said roughly. "The debt is all mine. What about the gold you gave for me?"
Emrist smiled sheepishly. "That was only sorcerer's gold. I would not use it with honest folk. ..."
"Why, what becomes of such gold?"
"It vanishes after a little while. . . ."Trevyn threw back his head and laughed, and Emrist joined in, a laugh from the heart that shook his small frame. "Ay, I would like to have seen those slave merchants drubbing each other for the theft of it!" he gasped.
"Is there any chance you could conjure up some horses for us?" Trevyn asked wistfully. "Or even a donkey for yourself?"
"Nay, that would be dishonor." Emrist rose to his feet with dignity. "I can do what I must without such devices. Come, let us be moving."
They traveled more east than south for the time, working their way through a maze of small valleys between wooded slopes. Eventually, following that direction, they would find the broad Way that ran due south to Kantukal, It would make traveling easier, if no less dangerous. Trevyn carried a quarterstaff of green oak as well as his sword, in case they