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

тАШSoldiers, eh? So the Orthlundynhave been preparing for war.тАЩ It was Rede Berryn and his tone was
ironic. тАШHow typical of Dan-Tor to tell the truth and make it sound like a lie.тАЩ Then he looked at the
young Orthlundyn again. тАШWho are you preparing for war against, Helyadin?тАЩ he asked.

Fyndal looked at the old man. тАШSumeral, Rede,тАЩ he said simply. тАШSumeral. And all who stand by His
side.тАЩ

The Rede met his gaze and idly rubbed a scar on his forehead. Since Hawklan and Isloman had left his
village with their Mathidrin escort he had heard only rumours and gossip about what was happening in
Vakloss and the rest of the country. Such instructions as he had received told him nothing, and such
inquiries as he made were ignored. The local Mathidrin company was suddenly greatly strengthened and
the patrolling of the Orthlund border increased dramatically. Then a ban they imposed тАУ and enforced тАУ
on virtually all travelling ended any hope he had of obtaining accurate information from such friends as he
had in the capital.

Throughout these happenings Berryn had followed the ancient survival technique of the trained soldier
and kept himself inconspicuous while clinging to what he knew to be right and true. In his darker
moments, he tried to console himself with the thought that this madness must pass; the spirit of the
Fyordyn surely could not be so easily crushed.

And the memory of his brief encounter with Hawklan and Isloman persisted in returning like some kind
of reproach. Hawklan, the strange healer from wherever it was down there, looking every inch the
warrior, yet playing the coward before the crowd until his horse laid Uskal out. And Isloman, revealed
suddenly as one of the Orthlundyn Goraidin. The two of them, alone, seeking out Dan-Tor to demand an
accounting for an incident that could not possibly have happened. Armed Mandrocs marching through
Fyorlund to commit atrocities in Orthlund?

Yet the two men had patently been telling the truth.

The paradox had cost him sleepless nights. He, who could sleep in his saddle in the middle of a forced
march.

Then it was over. First, a flurry of increasingly improbable rumours: Dan-Tor attacked? The King slain?
Rebellion? Then, a dreadful silent lull and, as abruptly as they had come, the Mathidrin had left; the whole
complement riding off secretly one night without a word of explanation. The villagers had scarcely had
time to assimilate this change when Jaldaric and Arinndier had ridden in with a good old-fashioned High
Guard escort, and announced the defeat and flight of Dan-Tor and the Mathidrin.
 But they had brought worse news. Ludicrous news. Dan-Tor was Oklar, the Uhriel. Sumeral had come
again and raised Derras Ustramel in Narsindal. No, Berryn had thought, rebelliously. Lord or no,
Arinndier, youтАЩre wrong. Dan-Tor was a bad old devil, but I canтАЩt accept that kind of nonsense.

And he had resolved to bring himself nearer the heart of this turmoil. Someone had to start talking sense.

Thus when Arinndier had dismissed his escort, fearing that such a patrol might be none too popular in
Orthlund, Rede Berryn had offered the services of himself and Tel-Mindor as guides.

тАШWe know the border area well, Lord,тАЩ he had said. тАШTel-Mindor doesnтАЩt look like much, but heтАЩs
worth the three of us put together. And no oneтАЩs going to be upset by a limping old duffer like me.тАЩ

On the journey, however, Arinndier had talked quite freely of all the events that had happened since the