"Elizabeth Vaughan - Chronicles Of The Warlands 02 - Warsworn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Vaughan Elizabeth)

"A few hours yet, Warprize. Hisself will keep us moving until we lose the light."

"Why is he in such a hurry?"

"Hisself has his reasons. You're to be confirmed when we reach the Heart of the Plains, and
the sooner the better." Marcus's tone was a clear indication that the topic was now settled.

I looked about for a different distraction, and caught a glimpse of Epor reaching over to tug on
Isdra's braid. "Epor seems sweet on Isdra."

"Eh?" Marcus growled. "Sweet? What means this?"
I floundered for the unfamiliar words. "That he cares for her."

There was an unnatural pause. I leaned forward. "Marcus?"

"They are bonded." He spoke grudgingly, almost as if the words caused him pain. "Do you not
see the ear spirals?"

"Bonded? Is that the same as married?" I twisted about, trying to get a better look at their
ears, but Marcus had apparently grown weary of me.

"Ask Epor. Or Isdra." His tone was curt and he whistled, somehow catching Prest's attention.
Prest raised a hand, and started to move back toward us. Because I was a burden on the horse,
I was traded off every hour so as not to tire any one animal. The elements forbid that a horse
be over-tired. I was starting to feel like a package in a trading caravan.

Marcus spoke as Prest moved into position. "Joden is a good man, Lara, valued for his
wisdom. He is heard in senel, although he holds no rank, and even by the Elders when he
appears before their councils. He will make a great Singer once he is recognized as such."

Prest drew closer, preparing to transfer me to his horse, but I ignored his outstretched hand. I
leaned closer, trying to figure out what Marcus was talking about.

"If you can't confide in anyone else, you can confide in a Singer." Marcus's voice was so soft,
it was almost a whisper. "Words spoken to a Singer are held to his heart, where they cannot be
pried free. Talk to Joden, Lara. Please."

With that, they transferred me to Prest's horse without breaking stride, and Marcus faded
back and away into the crowd.

Prest was a full head taller than Marcus and easily twice as broad. I rather dreaded riding with
him, since I couldn't see over his shoulders. That meant my stomach would be upset by the time
I left his horse.

Prest also wasn't much of a talker, which left me free to dwell on my miseries. If Atira were
here, I might be able to confide in her, but she'd been left in Water's Fall, under the care of Eln.
Her leg would heal true, but the break would not let her travel. Even surrounded by thousands
of warriors, I felt terribly alone. Keir had been absent now for two days, and part of me feared
he'd decided that this Warprize no longer interested him. Maybe I could talk to Joden, confide
in him. Joden had helped me so much when I'd been taken to the camp. He'd been the one to