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

crackle like burning logs. This room, this whole building, must catch and return every spark of their
warmth for them to have matured like that. Marvellous, I havenтАЩt seen anything like them in years, if ever.
And these carvings defy description. I must get my old wood chisels out when I get home. IтАЩd almost
forgotten about them, thereтАЩs been so much sourness in the air these last few years, but at the first
opportunity . . .тАЩ He left the sentence unfinished, but beamed a great smile and waved his clenched fist as
a token of his resolution.

Arinndier and Tel-Mindor smiled in return, though Jaldaric seemed a little uncertain about how to handle
this sudden onset of childlike enthusiasm.

As they rested, each felt the calm of the room beginning to unravel the tangles of dire concerns that had
grown over the past months to cloud their hearts and minds. Gradually they all became both silent and
still, until eventually the only sounds in the room were the occasional murmur of the radiant stones and the
muffled echoes of the activities outside as the Castle prepared to receive again its key-bearer and the
many others for whom it was now home. But neither these nor the various people who came in from time
to time to inquire solicitously about their comfort, offered any disturbance to the calm of the four men.

Slowly but perceptibly the noises from outside changed in character, becoming more intense and
purposeful, like a distant wind gathering energy.

Then, abruptly, Hawklan was there.

The large doors of the room flew open and a clatter of laughter and noise cascaded over the four
Fyordyn, swirling the warmth around them, and lifting them out of their reveries. They all stood up
expectantly.

For a moment Hawklan stood motionless, framed in the doorway and gazing around the room. It
seemed to Arinndier that the dancing music that had flooded through the land earlier that day was still
washing around the feet of this strange, powerful man. Then the lean face split into a broad smile and
Hawklan strode forward to greet his guests affectionately. Behind him came Loman and Isloman,
followed in turn by Tirke and Dacu and several others, including Athyr and Yrain. Following them all, like
a dour and watchful shepherdess herding her sheep, came Gulda.

There was a great flurry of introductions and greetings including an alarming bear-hug of forgiveness and
welcome for Jaldaric from Loman. Then the questions that both parties had been quietly fretting over for
the past hours began to burst out, and very soon there was uproar, with everyone talking at once.

Arinndier looked plaintively at Hawklan, who smiled and brought his hands together in a resounding
clap. тАШFriends,тАЩ he said loudly into the surprised silence. тАШWe all have too much to tell for us to learn
anything like this.тАЩ He affected a great sternness. тАШWe must therefore comport ourselves in the Fyordyn
manner, so I shall put our meeting in the hands of the Lord Arinndier. No one may now speak without his
permission.тАЩ

There was a little spatter of ironic applause, but the clamour did not return and as the company settled
itself about the room, some on chairs and settles, some on the floor by the flickering fire, Arinndier rather
self-consciously began relating the events that had occurred in Fyorlund since Rgoric had suspended the
Geadrol.
 As if listening themselves, the torches dimmed a little, and the yellow glow of the radiant stones became
tinged with red and orange.