"Roger Taylor - Hawklan 4 - Into Narsindal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

As the question left his lips, the four riders, line abreast, clattered over the top of a small rise. Arinndier
gasped at the sight before them, and signalled to the group to halt. For a time they were motionless and
the singing rose around them to fill the air so that it seemed to be coming from every conceivable
direction.

Chapter 2

Andawyr dived into his small tent, sealed the entrance and, rubbing his hands together ferociously, swore
roundly, in a manner most unbecoming in the chosen leader of the ancient Order of the Cadwanol.

It was bitterly cold in the tent and his breath steamed out in great clouds, but at least he was now out of
that merciless wind.

Gathering his cloak tight about him, he crouched down and fumbled in his pack. After some muttering he
produced a small bag and immediately began to struggle with its tightly laced mouth. It took him some
minutes of finger blowing and further profanity, together with judicious use of his incisors, to release the
leather thong, but eventually he succeeded and with some relief emptied the contents on to a small tray.

He looked at the radiant stones dubiously. HeтАЩd never been any good at striking these damned things.
And they didnтАЩt look very good either. HeтАЩd bought them very cheaply from a shifty-eyed blighter at the
Gretmearc. Rubbing his still frozen hands together again, he decided now that that might have been a
mistake тАУ a very false economy.

The wind buffeted the tent to remind him where he was and he shrugged his self-recriminations aside;
good or bad, thereтАЩd be something in these things and he must get them lit quickly. Delving into his pack
again, he retrieved the striker and, tongue protruding slightly, scraped it along one of the stones.
Somewhat to his surprise a glowing white line appeared and spread out across the surface of the stone.
Less to his surprise, it faded almost immediately into a dull red. He eyed the stone malevolently and
struck it again, but the result was the same. Turning his attention to the striker he adjusted it and tried
again, but still the stone refused to ignite satisfactorily.

Several minutes later he had made little further progress, though he was a good deal warmer by then,
and his face was redder by far than most of the stones he had managed to strike into some semblance of
life.

He threw the striker down irritably. There was a soft, deep chuckle.

тАШI can do without any of your comments, thank you, Dar,тАЩ Andawyr said testily. тАШItтАЩs all right for you,
snug in your own place. IтАЩm freezing to death here.тАЩ

тАШI never said a word,тАЩ came the injured reply, radiating insincerity. тАШI told you that you should have
brought a proper travelling tent, bu . . .тАЩ

тАШDonтАЩt say that again,тАЩ Andawyr said warningly. тАШItтАЩs hard enough on foot through these mountains
without struggling with a pack-horse.тАЩ He held out his hands over the dull red stones. тАШAnd these things
are useless as well,тАЩ he added.

тАШYou bought them,тАЩ came Dar-volciтАЩs unsympathetic voice. тАШThese were matured stones when I bought
them,тАЩ Andawyr protested unconvincingly. тАШIтАЩll lay odds that that beggar at the Gretmearc switched them
when he bagged them.тАЩ He turned one of the unstruck stones over with an expert expression on his face.