"Roger Taylor - Nightfall 1 - Farnor" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

apparent. тАШWhatтАЩs the matter?тАЩ he asked, as much man to man as father to son.

Farnor told his tale.

Garren scowled. He had hoped that, the last attack having been some months ago, the dog responsible
would have moved on, but now there would have to be a hunt. There was always the risk that there
might be more than one dog and that raised the spectre of their breeding and thus turning a problem into
a nightmare.

тАШWhat was Rannick doing out there?тАЩ he asked absently as his mind went over what was to be done
next.

тАШI donтАЩt know,тАЩ Farnor replied. тАШI didnтАЩt ask.тАЩ He shied away from describing RannickтАЩs behaviour. тАШI
donтАЩt like him. HeтАЩs strange.тАЩ

Garren wrinkled his nose. тАШHeтАЩs not the most pleasant of men, thatтАЩs true,тАЩ he said. тАШBut some people
are like that. Never content with what they have. Always wanting something else, then still miserable
when theyтАЩve got it. HeтАЩs probably quite a sad soul at heart.тАЩ

Farnor curled his lip in dismissal of this verdict. тАШWell he can be sad on his own, then,тАЩ he said. тАШIt
wouldnтАЩt disturb me if he went on his wanderings and never came back. He makes my skin crawl
sometimes.тАЩ

Garren looked at his son again, considering some reproach for his harsh tone, but the simple openness of
FarnorтАЩs response forbade it and instead he reached out and patted him sympathetically on the arm.

тАШNot a nice sight, is it, a mangled sheep,тАЩ he said. тАШGo inside and make yourself presentable then weтАЩll
go into the village and see old Gryss.тАЩ

****

Old Gryss was the senior elder of the village: the one who got things done. He mended broken limbs and
cracked heads, cured sick animals, extracted teeth, settled quarrels and generally organized the villagers
whenever organization was needed. He was also one of the few villagers who, when younger, had
travelled beyond the valley; been over the hill, seen towns and even, it was said, cities.

тАШNoisy, smelly, and too crowded,тАЩ was all that he would say about such places however, whenever he
was asked directly. Though, in his cups, he would sometimes regale his audience with tales of his
adventures, albeit somewhat incoherently.

The sun had fallen behind the mountains when Garren and Farnor reached GryssтАЩs cottage, and the few
clouds drifting overhead were slowly turning pink. The cottage was not unlike its occupant, having a thick
but rather scruffy thatch lowering over two sparklingly bright, polished windows and a hunched and
slightly skewed appearance due to its original builder having been both wall-eyed and too fond of his ale.

An iron ring hung from a chain by the door. It was attached to a small bell. Garren took hold of it but did
not pull it immediately.

тАШHe brought this back from his travels, you know,тАЩ he said. тАШHeaven knows how many people have
tugged on it through the years, but itтАЩs not shown a scrap of wear. IтАЩd give something for a plough made