"David Eddings. Pawn of prophecy queen of sorcery magician's gambit (The Belgariad, Part one)" - читать интересную книгу автора

eye, he found quite easily a dozen confederates willing to sack her
kitchen in exchange for a single story.
Lamentably, among his most able pupils was the boy Garion. Often,
driven to distraction by the necessity of watching at once an old thief
and a fledgling one, Aunt Pol would arm herself with a broom and drive
them both from her kitchen with hard words and resounding blows. And the
old storyteller, laughing, would flee with the boy to some secluded place
where they would feast on the fruits of their pilferage and the old man,
tasting frequently from a flagon of stolen wine or beer, would regale his
student with stories out of the dim past.
The best stories, of course, were saved for the dining hall when, after
the evening meal was over and the plates had been pushed back, the old man
would rise from his place and carry his listeners off into a world of
magical enchantment.
"Tell us of the beginnings, my old friend," Faldor, always pious, said
one evening, "and of the Gods."
"Of the beginnings and the Gods," the old man mused. "A worthy subject,
Faldor, but a dry and dusty one."
"I've noticed that you find all subjects dry and dusty, Old Wolf," Aunt
Pol said, going to the barrel and drawing off a tankard of foamy beer for
him.
He accepted the tankard with a stately bow. "It's one of the hazards of
my profession, Mistress Pol," he explained. He drank deeply, then set the
tankard aside. He lowered his head in thought for a moment, then looked
directly, or so it seemed, at Garion. And then he did a strange thing
which he had never before done when telling stories in Faldor's dining
hall. He drew his cloak about him and rose to his full height.
"Behold," he said, his voice rich and sonorous, "at the beginning of
days made the Gods the world and the seas and the dry land also. And cast
they the stars across the night sky and did set the sun and his wife, the
moon, in the heavens to give light unto the world.
"And the Gods caused the earth to bring forth the beasts, and the
waters to bud with 6sh, and the skies to flower with birds.
"And they made men also, and divided men into Peoples.
"Now the Gods were seven in number and were all equal, and their names
were Belar, and Chaldan, and Nedra, and Issa, and Mara, and Aldur, and
Torak."
Garion knew the story, of course; everyone in that part of Sendaria was
familiar with it, since the story was of Alorn origin and the lands on
three sides of Sendaria were Alorn kingdoms. Though the tale was familiar,
however, he had never before heard it told in such a way. His mind soared
as in his imagination the Gods themselves strode the world in those dim,
misty days when the world was first made, and a chill came over him at
each mention of the forbidden name of Torak.
He listened intently as the storyteller described how each God selected
a people---for Belar the Alorns, for Issa the Nyissans, for Chaldan the
Arends, for Nedra the Tolnedrans, for Mara the Marags which are no more,
and for Torak the Angaraks. And he heard how the God Aldur dwelt apart and
considered the stars in his solitude, and how some very few men he
accepted as pupils and disciples.