"Zelazny, Roger - The 1st Chronicles of Amber - 02 - Guns Of Avalon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Zelazny Roger)

In the morning we kicked dirt over the ashes and rode on. We made it into the mountains that afternoon and passed through them the following day. There were occasional signs of recent passage on the trail we followed, but we encountered no one.
The following day we passed several farmhouses and cottages, not pausing at any of them. I had opted against the wild, demonic route I had followed when I had exiled Ganelon. While quite brief, I knew that he would have found it massively disconcerting. I had wanted this time to think, so much a journeying was not called for. Now, however, the long route was nearing its end. We achieved Amber's sky that afternoon, and I admired it in silence. It might almost be the Forest of Arden through which we rode. There were no horn notes, however, no Julian, no Morgenstern, no stormhounds to harry us, as there had been in Arden when last I passed that way. There were only the bird notes in the great-boled trees, the complaint of a squirrel, the bark of a fox, the plash of a waterfall, the whites and blues and pinks of flowers in the shade.
The breezes of the afternoon were gentle and cool; they lulled me so that I was unprepared for the row of fresh graves beside the trail that came into sight when we rounded a bend. Near by, there was a torn and trampled glen. We tarried there briefly but learned nothing more than had been immediately apparent.
We passed another such place farther along, and several fire-charred groves. The trail was well worn by then and the side brush trampled and broken, as by the passage of many men and beasts. The smell of ashes was occasionally upon the air, and we hurried past the partly eaten carcass of a horse now well ripened where it lay.
The sky of Amber no longer heartened me, though the way was clear for a long while after that.
The day was running to evening and the forest had thinned considerably when Ganelon noted the smoke trails to the southeast. We took the first side path that seemed to lead in that direction, although it was tangent to Avalon proper. It was difficult to estimate the distance, but we could tell that we would not reach the place until after nightfall.
"Their army -- still encamped?" Ganelon wondered.
"Or that of their conqueror."
He shook his head and loosened his blade in its scabbard.
Toward twilight, I left the trail to follow a sound of running water to its source. It was a clear, clean stream that had made its way down from the mountains and still bore something of their chill within it. I bathed there, trimming my new bearding and cleaning the dust of travel from my garments as well. As we were nearing this end of our journeying, it was my wish to arrive with what small splendor I could muster. Appreciating this, Ganelon even splashed water over his face and blew his nose loudly.
Standing on the bank, blinking my rinsed eyes at the heavens, I saw the moon resolve itself sharp and clear, the fuzziness fading from its edges. This was the first time it had happened. My breathing jerked to a halt and I kept staring. Then I scanned the sky for early stars, traced the edges of clouds, the distant mountains, the farthest trees. I looked back at the moon, and it still held clear and steady. My eyesight was normal once again.
Ganelon drew back at the sound of my laughter, and he never inquired as to its cause.
Suppressing an impulse to sing, I remounted and headed back toward the trail once again. The shadows deepened as we rode, and clusters of stars bloomed among the branches overhead. I inhaled a big piece of the night, held it a moment, released it. I was myself once again and the feeling was good.
Ganelon drew up beside me and said in a low voice, "There will doubtless be sentries."
"Yes," I said.
"Then hadn't we better leave the trail?"
"No. I would rather not seem furtive. It matters not to me whether we arrive with an escort. We are simply two travelers."
"They may require the reason for our travels."
"Then let us be mercenaries who have heard of strife in the realm and come seeking employment."
"Yes. We look the part. Let us hope they pause long enough to notice."
"If they cannot see us that well, then we are poor targets."
"True, but I am not fully comforted by the thought."
I listened to the sounds of the horses' hoofs on the trail. The way was not straight. It twisted, curved, and wandered for a time, then took an upward turn. As we mounted the rise it followed, the trees thinned even more.
We came to the top of a hill then, and into a fairly open area. Advancing, we achieved a sudden view that covered several miles. We drew rein at an abrupt drop that curved its way into a gradual slope after ten or fifteen precipitous meters, sweeping downward to a large plain perhaps a mile distant, then continuing on through a hilly, sporadically wooded area. The plain was dotted with campfires and there were a few tents toward the center of things. A large number of horses grazed near by, and I guessed there were several hundred men sitting beside the fires or moving about the compound.
Ganelon sighed.
"At least they seem to be normal men," he said.
"Yes."
"...And if they are normal military men, we are probably being watched right now. This is too good a vantage to leave unposted."
"Yes."
There came a noise from behind us. We began to turn, just as a near by voice said, "Don't move!"
I continued to turn my head, and I saw four men. Two of them held crossbows trained on us and the other two had blades in their hands. One of these advanced two paces.
"Dismount!" he ordered. "On this side! Slowly!"
We climbed down from our mounts and faced him, keeping our hands away from our weapons.
"Who are you? Where are you from?" he asked.
"We are mercenaries," I replied, "from Lorraine. We heard there was fighting here, and we are seeking employment. We were headed for that camp below. It is yours, I hope?"
"...And if I said no, that we are a patrol for a force about to invade that camp?"
I shrugged. "In that case, is your side interested in hiring a couple of men?"
He spat. "The Protector has no need for your sort," he said. Then, "From what direction do you ride?"
"East," I said.
"Did you meet with any -- difficulty -- recently?"
"No," I said. "Should we have?"
"Hard to say," he decided. "Remove your weapons. I'm going to send you down to the camp. They will want to question you about anything you may have seen in the east -- anything unusual."
"We've seen nothing unusual," I said.
"Whatever, they will probably feed you. Though I doubt you will be hired. You have come a bit late for the fighting. Remove your weapons now."
He called two more men from within the trees while we unbuckled our sword belts. He instructed them to escort us below, on foot. We were to lead our horses. The men took our weapons, and as we turned to go our interrogator cried out, "Wait!"
I turned back toward him.
"You. What is your name?" he asked me.
"Corey," I said.
"Stand still."