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

said. тАШNot with that dark nature of his. ItтАЩll do neither him nor anyone else any good.тАЩ

And that had been all. But unspoken meanings had permeated the words, and something deep in
FarnorтАЩs unease about Rannick had resonated to them.
тАШIтАЩm tending the sheep,тАЩ he replied to RannickтАЩs question.

тАШNot doing such a good job, are you?тАЩ Rannick retorted, nudging the dead sheep with his foot and
making the flies swarm upwards again. This time they did not travel far, but settled back to their noisome
business almost immediately.

Farnor grimaced but said nothing. He looked at RannickтАЩs angular, unshaven face, his unkempt black
hair and his generally soiled appearance. He was like someone that Yonas might have described as a
bandit or some other kind of a villain in one of his tales.

And yet, even as he watched Rannick examining the sheep, he felt that the man was not without a quality
of some kind: a strange, inner strength or purposefulness. And, too, he noted almost reluctantly, that with
a little cleaning up he might even be quite handsome; that he could perhaps serve as much as a hero as a
villain in such a tale.

Abruptly the flies flew up again, surrounding Rannick. He swore profanely and FarnorтАЩs new vision of
him disappeared. Then Rannick snapped his fingers. Or at least that was what Farnor thought he did,
though the movement he made was very swift and the sound was odd . . . strangely loud, and yet distant.
Almost as if it were in a different place.

For an instant Farnor felt disorientated: as though he had been suddenly jolted awake as sometimes
happened to him when he was hovering halfway between sleep and waking. As he recovered he found
Rannick gazing at him, his eyes searching him intently.

тАШWhatтАЩs the matter?тАЩ Farnor heard him say.

тАШNothing,тАЩ Farnor replied as casually as he could, waving a hand vaguely. тАШI . . . donтАЩt like the flies.тАЩ

Rannick sneered dismissively and, muttering something to himself, turned back to the sheep. Farnor
noticed, however, that the flies were gone from both the corpse and Rannick. They were hovering in a
dark shifting cloud some way away, almost as if they were being constrained there or were too fearful to
venture closer. And he sensed that Rannick was observing him in some way, even though he seemed to
be totally occupied by his examination of the sheep. Briefly, his disorientation returned.

тАШWhat are you looking for?тАЩ he ventured after a moment in an attempt to recover himself. Rannick did
not reply, but bent forward and retrieved something from the sheepтАЩs fleece. He looked at it closely and
then he lifted it to his nose and sniffed at it. It was a peculiarly repellent action. Farnor grimaced.

тАШI . . . IтАЩll have to get back,тАЩ he stammered, stepping back as he felt his stomach beginning to heave.
Only the fear of RannickтАЩs mockery prevented him from vomiting there and then.

Again, Rannick did not reply. Instead he stood up and moved his head from side to side like an animal
searching for a scent. Farnor felt the unseen observation pass from him.

тАШIтАЩll have to get back,тАЩ he said again, continuing to retreat. тАШTell my father whatтАЩs happened. HeтАЩll need
to know. And the others . . . theyтАЩll want to hunt this thing . . .тАЩ