"Dark Rising 4 - The Grey King" - читать интересную книгу автора (Cooper Susan)

'He let me know how amusing it was to see me stuck. And some things about a disagreement we have. Of no importance. And asked who you were.' Rhys spun his spanner, loosening the wheel-bolts, and glanced up with a shy conspiratorial grin. 'A good job our mothers were not listening, I was not polite. I said you were my cousin and none of his bloody business.'

'Was he cross?'

Rhys paused reflectively. 'He said - We shall see about that.'

"Will looked up the valley road where the van had disappeared. "That's a funny thing to say.'

'Oh,' Rhys said, 'that is Caradog. His hobby is to make people feel uncomfortable. Nobody likes him, except his dogs, and he doesn't even like them.' He tugged at the injured wheel. 'Sit still up there now. We shan't be long.'

By the time he climbed back into the driving seat, rubbing his hands on an oily rag, the fine drizzle had turned to real rain; the dark hair was curling wet over his head. 'Well,' Rhys said. 'This is nice old weather to greet you, I must say. But it won't last. We shall have a good bit of sun yet, off and on, before the winter bites down on us.'

Will gazed out at the mountains, dark and distant, swinging into view as they drove along the road crossing the valley. Grey-white cloud hung ragged round the highest hills, their tops invisible behind the mist. He said, "The cloud's all tattered round the tops of the mountains. Perhaps it's breaking up.'

Rhys looked out casually. 'The breath of the Grey King? No, I'm sorry to tell you. Will, that's supposed to be a bad sign.'

Will sat very still, a great rushing sound in his ears; he gripped the edge of his seat until the metal bit at his fingers. 'What did you call it?'

'The cloud? Oh, when it hangs ragged like that we call it the breath of the Brenin Llwyd. The Grey King. He is supposed to live up there on the high land. It's just one of the old stories.' Rhys glanced sideways at him and then braked suddenly; the Land-Rover slowed almost to a halt. 'Will! Are you all right? White as a ghost, you look. Are you
feeling bad?'

'No. No. It was just -' Will was staring out at the grey mass of the hills. 'It was just ... the Grey King, the Grey King ... it's part of something I used to know, something I was supposed to remember, for always... I thought I'd lost it. Perhaps - perhaps it's going to come back...'

Rhys crashed the car back into gear. 'Oh,' he called cheerfully through the noise, 'we'll get you better, you just wait. Anything can happen in these old hills.'



Part One: The Golden Harp
Cadfan's Way

'You see?' said Aunt Jen. 'I told you it would clear up.'

Will swallowed his last mouthful of bacon. You wouldn't think it was the same country. Marvellous.'

Morning sunshine streamed like banners through the windows of the long farmhouse kitchen. It glinted on the blue slate slabs of the floor, on the willow-pattern china set out on the enormous black dresser; on the shelf of beaming Toby jugs above the stove. A rainbow danced over the low ceiling, cast up in a sun-spell from the handle of the glass milk-jug.

'Warm, too,' said Aunt Jen. 'We are going to have an Indian summer for you. Will. And fatten you up a bit too, my dear. Have some more bread.'

'It's lovely. I haven't eaten so much for months.' Will watched small Aunt Jen with affection as she bustled about the kitchen. Strictly speaking, she was not his aunt at all, but a cousin of his mother's; the two had grown up as close friends, and still exchanged quantities of letters. But Aunt Jen had left Buckinghamshire long before; it was one of the more romantic legends in the family, the tale of how she had come to Wales for a holiday, fallen shatteringly in love with a young Welsh farmer, and never gone home again. She even sounded Welsh herself now - and looked it, with her small, cosily plump form and bright dark eyes.

'Where's Uncle David?' he said.

'Out in the yard somewhere. This is a busy time of the year with the sheep, the hill farms send their yearlings down for the winter... he has to drive to Tywyn soon, he wondered
if you would like to go too. Go to the beach, you could, in this sunshine.'

'Super.'

"No swimming, mind,' said Aunt Jen hastily.

Will laughed. 'I know, I'm fragile. I'll be careful... I'd love to go. I can send Mum a card, saying I got here in one piece.'