"Allen, James - Unicorn Trade, The" - читать интересную книгу автора (Allen James)

The Unicorn Trade
Stillness and warmth pressed down out of a sky where no clouds were, only a hawk whose wings shone burnished. The air had a scorched smell. Gorse and scrub trees grew around strewn boulders, save where the heights plunged sheer. Afar and below was a forest canopy, richly green, and beyond it the Ilwen estuary gleamed like a drawn blade. He could just discern the city, walls, towers, ruddy-tiled roofs, temple spire, Scholarium dome, Hall of Worthies and palace of the Lord Mayor, warehouses and a couple of ships at the Longline, all tiny at this distance and not quite real. It was as if Lona were a dear dream from which he had been shaken awake.
His glance traveled westward. The sun cast a blaze off the rim of the world yonder—the bay, and behind it the ocean. Despair lifted overwhelmingly in him. That dream was also lost. Everything was lost.
How he had implored Sir Falcovan! "I proved myself a good fighting man in the war, one who can lead other men, did I not? Your colony may well need defenders. It will certainly need explorers, surveyors, hunters, and you know I can handle such matters too. As for a regular business, well, I'd be ill at ease on a plantation, but the trade in timber, furs, gold, ores—Take me, my lord!"
The great adventurer twirled his mustachios. "Most gladly, son," he answered, "if you can outfit yourself and engage whatever underlings you require, as well as help pay our mutual costs. Two hundred and fifty aureates is the price of a share in the enterprise. The Company
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cannot take less, not in justice to those who've already bought in. And you'll need another hundred or so for your own expenses."
That much money would keep a family in comfort for some years, or buy a large house or a small shop here at home. "My lord, I—I'll have to borrow."
"Against prospective earnings?" Sir Falcovan raised his brows. "Well, you can try. But don't dawdle. The ships have begun loading at Croy. We must sail before autumn."
"My ... my wife, the wife I'll have, she's strong and willing the same as I," Arvel begged. "We've talked about it. We'll go indentured if we can't find the money." Lona had resisted that idea violently before she gave in, and he misliked it himself, but passage to the New Lands, to a reborn hope for the future, would be worth seven years of bondage.
The knight shook his head. "No, we've no dearth of such help—nigh more than we can find use for, to be frank. It's capital we still need: that, and qualities of leadership." His weathered visage softened. "I understand your feelings, lad. I was your age once. May the gods smile on you."
They had not done so.
Abruptly Arvel could no longer stand in place. He spun about on his heel and resumed his flight.
The weariness that he sought, he won after a few more hours. He staggered up Cromlech Hill and flopped to the ground, his back against the warm side of a megalith. A forgotten tribe had
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The Unicorn Trade
raised this circle on the brow of this tor, unknown millennia ago, and practiced their rites, whatever those were, at the altar in the middle. Now the pillars stood alone, gray, worn, lich-enous, in grass that the waning summer had turned to hay, and held their stony memories to themselves. People shunned them. Arvel cared nothing. He thought that he'd welcome a bogle or a werewolf, anything he could rightfully kill. The heat, the redolence, a drowsy buzzing of insects, all entered him. He slept.
Chill awakened him. He sat up with a gasp and saw that the sun was down. Deep blue in the west, where the evenstar glowed lamplike, heaven darkened to purple overhead. It lightened again in the east, ahead of a full moon that would shortly rise, but murk already laired among the megaliths.
"Good fortune, mortal." The voice, male, sang rather than spoke.
Arvel gaped. The form that loomed before him was tall, and huge slanty eyes caught what luminance there was and gave it back as the eyes of a cat do. Otherwise it was indistinct, more than this dimness could reasonably have caused. He thought he saw a cloak, its flaring collar suggestive of bat wings, and silvery hair around a narrow face; but he could not be sure.
He scrambled to his feet. "Joy to you, sir," he said in haste while he stepped backward, hand on sword. His heart, that would have exulted to meet an avowed enemy, rattled, and his gullet tightened.
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Yet the stranger made no threatening move, but remained as quiet in the dusk as the cromlech. "Have no fear of me, Arvel Tarabine," he -^enjoined. "Right welcome you are."
The man wet his lips. "You have the advantage of me, sir," he croaked. "I do not think I have had the pleasure of meeting you erenow."
"No; for who remembers those who came to their cradles by night and drew runes in the air above them?" A fluid shrug. "Names are for mortals and for gods, not for the Fair Folk. But call me Irrendal if you wish."
Arvel stiffened. His pulse roared in his ears. "No! Can't be!"
Laughter purled. "Ah, you think Irrendal and his elves are mere figures in nursery tales? Well, you have forgotten this too; but know afresh, from me, that the culture of children is older than history and the lore which its tales preserve goes very deep."
Arvel gathered nerve. "Forgive me, sir, but I have simply your word for that."
"Granted. Nor will I offer you immediate evidence, because it must needs be of a nature harmful to you." The other paused. "However," he proposed slowly, "if you will follow me, you shall perceive evidence enough, aye, and receive it, too."
"Why—what, what—?—" stammered Arvel. He felt giddy. The evenstar danced in his vision, above the stranger's head.
Graveness responded: "You are perhaps he for whom the elvenfolk have yearned, working what poor small magics are ours in these iron
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The Unicorn Trade
centuries, in hopes that the time-flow would guide him hither. You can perhaps release us from misery. Take heed: the enterprise is perilous. You could be killed, and the kites and foxes pick your bones." A second quicksilver laugh. "Ah, what difference between them and the worms? We believe you can prevail, else I would not have appeared to you. And if you do, we will grant you your heart's desire."
There being no clear and present menace to him, a measure of calm descended upon Arvel. Beneath it, excitement thrummed. "What would you of me?" he asked with care.
"Twelve years and a twelvemonth ago," related he who used the name Irrendal, "an ogre came into these parts. We think hunger drove him from the North, after men had cleared and plowed his forest. For him, our country is well-nigh as barren; unicorn, lindworm, jack-o'-dance, all such game has become rare. Thus he turned on us, not only our orchards and livestock but our very selves. Male and female elf has he seized and devoured. Worse, he has taken of our all too few and precious children. His strength is monstrous: gates has he torn from their hinges, walls has he battered down, and entered ravening. Warriors who sought him out never came back, save when he has thrown a gnawed skull into a camp of ours while his guffaws rolled like thunder in the dark. Spells have we cast, but they touched him no deeper than would a springtime rain. To the gods have we appealed, but they answered not and we wonder if those philosophers may be right who declare that the gods
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are withdrawing from a world where, ever more, men exalt Reason. Sure it is that the Fair Folk must abide, or perish, in whatever countrysides they have been the tutelaries; we cannot flee. Hushed are our mirth and music. O mortal, save us!"
A tingle went along Arvel's backbone. The hair stirred on his head. "Why do you suppose I can do aught, when you are helpless?" he forced forth.
"For the same reason that the ogre has not troubled your race," Irrendal told him. "You have powers denied those of the Halfworld— power to be abroad by daylight and to wield cold iron. Uha, so named by the Northerners, knows better than to provoke a human hunt after him. We elves have already tried to get aid from men, but too much iron is in their homes, we cannot go near; and in these wilds we found none but stray peasants, who fled in terror at first sight of one like me. You do not. Moreover, you are a fighting man, and bear steel."
His voice rang: "Follow me to Una's lair. Slay him. You shall have glory among us, and the richest of rewards."
"Unless he slays me," Arvel demurred.
"Aye, that could happen." Scorn flickered. "If you are afraid, I will not detain you further. Go back to your safe little life."
The rage, that had smoldered low in the man, flared anew, high and white-hot. An ogre? Had he, Arvel, not wished for something to attack? "Have done!" he shouted. "Let's away!"
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The Unicom Trade
"Oh, wonder of wonders," Irrendal exulted. And the moon rose.