"Justin Stanchfield - Sisterhood of the Stone" - читать интересную книгу автора (Stanchfield Justin)

right hissed. The slipper hen shied, and stood flicking her long tongue
nervously at the tangled undergrowth. Kelly's hands tightened around the
thick, woven reigns.
"Don't worry," Ammons called over his shoulder. "Nothing moves on this
planet by night that's big enough to eat you." He laughed and spurred his own
slipper ahead. "At least not usually."
"What a comforting thought."
Thunder rumbled in the distance. Kells shifted on the slipper's back,
desperate to relieve the cramps in his tired legs. The third moon, pale green
_Aulets_, broke out from behind the clouds and bathed the tree tops in its wan
glow. The forest scent was stronger now, the ripe aroma of decayed leaves and
fallen fruit rotting on the dark, rich soil, overpowering. Kells wrinkled his
nose as another scent intruded. The slipper noticed it too. She flicked her
tongue, tasting the wind.
"Is that smoke?"
"Yes," Ammons said. "There's a travelers stop not far ahead. Take
heart, my friend, we're almost done for the night."
"Thank fate." Kells clung tighter to the hen's back. The beast, sensing
the end of the long night's journey, lurched faster along the narrow trail. A
steep ravine opened ahead as the trail dipped down to a sluggish stream. They
crossed the shallow water and climbed out the other side. The trees opened
onto a small, cleared field. Torches and cook fires cast shadows back and
forth over the trampled ground. Kells's hopes of an inn were dashed as he
surveyed the tents and simple awnings set in the center of the irregular
square.
"Not bad for a first night." Ammons slid off his slipper. He arched his
back, as he rubbed the stiffness from it with his meaty palm. "Sure you want
to go all the way to the Temple?"
"I'm beginning to have my doubts." Kells crawled off his own mount, his
legs so stiff he could barely stand. He glanced overhead. A bright star burned
through the clouds, an incandescent trail left behind as the starship
descended. He sighed. His own ship sat less than thirty kilometers behind him.
It might as well have been a light-year. Aching from the long ride, Kells
followed Ammons toward the cluster of tents. He stumbled in the flickering
shadows, glad to leave his slipper to the wranglers hired in Kenalla to care
for her. Other travelers glanced up from their mats, their expressions
unreadable. A few spoke to Ammons, answering his jovial greetings. Kells tried
to follow, but his grasp of the native dialect was too poor to make out more
than a handful of phrases. Exhausted, he stopped beside a large fire pit.
Pungent smoke rose from the glowing coals, the damp wood snapping and popping
as it burned. He sank gratefully to a log beside it. Ammons sat down beside
him and passed a heavy wineskin into his hand. To Kells's relief, the wine was
sweet and fruity, blissfully strong without a trace of peppers.
"Another gift from the Temple." Ammons took the skin and held it at
arm's length then squirted a long stream down his throat. "The Sisterhood
keeps the largest vineyard on Alkas, though between you and me I prefer the
grapes from the Targassa district...." He smacked his lips and took another
drink.
"You keep talking about the Temple. A temple to who?"
"Ahh, now that is a question." Ammons wiped his beard with a sleeve.