"Kerr,.Katharine.-.Westlands.02.-.A.Time.Of.War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

Rhodry made a sputtering sort of noise under his breath.
‘I agree,’ Jill said, grinning. ‘Well now, this may bode ill, or it may bode worse, but I’ll wager it proves interesting. My thanks, lad. That makes a great deal clear.’
‘Answer me somewhat in return,’ Meer said. ‘I take it that you know about this Alshandra creature?’
‘I do, and a goddess she’s not and never will be. You’re right a thousand times about that.’
‘What is she then? A demon?’
‘A meddling bitch,’ Rhodry snarled. That’s what she is.’
‘Whist! Let me finish.’ Jill waved a hand in his direction. ‘She’s not a demon, and neither human nor Horsekin, but a very strange sort of being indeed. Let’s see, how can I explain this clearly?’ She thought for a long moment. ‘I’m not sure I can. She doesn’t live in this world, so in that respect she’s like a spirit of the sort people call demons, but she’s vastly more intelligent. She can move about much more freely than a demon, as well, and when she’s here in our world she can make herself a body of sorts. She can work magic, some truly spectacular magic, in fact, from what I’ve heard, enough so I can see how some people think her a god.’
‘She sounds even more dangerous than I thought her, then.’
‘Unfortunately, that’s very true. What’s even worse is she’s quite mad.’
‘Mad? May the gods preserve us!’
‘I wouldn’t mind their help, truly.’ Jill smiled in a wry sort of way. ‘Now here, did your brother worship this creature?’
Meer nodded, his mouth slack, then bent his head as if he were staring at the floor. His hands rubbed up and down his staff for the comfort of it.
‘The infamy!’ he snarled. ‘That my own brother’s dishonour and sin would lead me to trust strangers who are no doubt no better than he and perhaps a good bit worse! Are you truly a mazrak?’
‘I have no idea,’ Jill turned irritable. ‘If you’d deign to tell me what one is, I might be able to answer.’
‘A shapechanger, one who takes animal form.’
‘Oh. As a matter of fact, I am that.’
She spoke in such an ordinary way that Jahdo shuddered, a long convulsion of terror. Meer growled under his breath and showed fangs.
‘But which one are you? The falcon or the raven? My servant here told me of two.’
‘What?’ Jill hesitated. ‘The falcon’s the form I take. Are you sure you saw another dweomer shape, Jahdo, or were you just scared or suchlike? I wouldn’t blame you, mind, There’s no shame attached, none at all, to being frightened of such things.’
‘I do know I did see it. It were a raven, and it were huge, and I did see it the morning Meer knew his brother was dying, It was flying close over the trees, so I could see how big it were.’
‘Well, well, well, could you, then?’ Jill glanced Rhodry’s way. ‘You didn’t happen to see any birds that looked unnaturally large, did you? When you were riding to fetch Meer and Jahdo, I mean.’
Rhodry shook his head no. He’d gone white about the mouth.
"But all those weeks ago, when you and Yraen were riding to Cengarn, you saw a raven, didn’t you?’
‘So we did,’ Rhodry said. ‘It was just when we stumbled across that farm the raiders destroyed, the one where that poor woman was lying dead and her unborn babe with her. Ye gods! I made a jest about the wretched bird, teasing Carra, like, and saying it was a sorcerer, most like.’
‘Were you really only jesting?’
Rhodry grinned, briefly.
‘Not truly. Are you telling me I was right, and a dweomermaster it was?’
‘I’m not telling you anything. But I begin to think it likely.’
‘Ah, infamy and abomination!’ Meer whispered at first, but slowly and steadily his voice grew louder, till it rumbled in bardic imprecation. ‘O Thavrae, how could you, brother who is no longer no brother of mine! May your spirit walk restless through all the long ages of ages! May the gods turn you away from their doors! May their gardens be forbidden you! May you never drink of their drink, may you never taste of their food! That you could commit such sin, such perfidy! That you could break every law of every god! A brother’s curse fall upon you! And in the end, if ever our mother should learn your evil, may her curse pierce your spirit as you writhe in the thirteen pairs of jaws of many-headed Ranadar, the Hound of Hell!’
‘So be it,’ Jill said, and her own voice boomed like a priest’s. ‘May the gods be his witness.’
The room seemed to ring for a long long moment. As he crouched beside Meer and watched the dweomer light swirling over the walls, Jahdo felt a peculiar intuition, that this moment marked a great change for more than the few individuals in this chamber, that some mighty thing, a destiny indeed, had begun to rouse itself from some age-long sleep, or that some vast night had begun to turn toward day - he could not find words, not even for himself, but he knew, he knew.
‘You look solemn, lad,’ Jill said. ‘What ails you?’
He stared up at her, then rose, laying one hand on the back of Meer’s chair.
‘I just felt - I don’t know -’ The moment was passing, the insight fading, even as he struggled to grab it and pin it down. ‘That some great thing will happen, and I be glad Tin here to see it.’
Meer swung his head round and grunted.
‘Have you gone daft?’ he snapped.
‘I have not. You were right, that’s all, when you did tell me that great things were on the move. This be all real important, bain’t it, Jill?’
‘It is, truly, or so the omens tell me. Great things or evil things, or, most like, a fair bit of both.’
Although by then the evening was growing late, by the light of candle lanterns Gwerbret Cadmar lingered at the head of the table of honour with Lord Gwinardd sitting at his right hand. Nearby a bard waited, drowsing over his harp, in case his lord should ask him to sing. Across the great hall the riders’ tables were mostly deserted, and a few servants sat yawning by the empty hearth. Jill hesitated in the doorway for some moments. She’d been hoping that she’d find his grace alone. Matyc at least was gone. Although she herself had nothing against Matyc, she trusted Rhodry’s judgement in such matters. If he said he smelt festering meat, then doubtless something had died under the stairs. On the other hand, no one had ever said a word against young Gwinardd, and she refused to keep silent and send Meer and his boy back to the dungeon for the night.
When she approached the table, Cadmar greeted her with a smile and a wave, calling for a servant to bring up another chair so that she could sit nearby without displacing Gwinardd from his honoured position. The lord rose, bowing her way, then sitting down again rather than leaving. As usual, Gwinardd looked puzzled at the honour in which his grace held this common-born old woman, even though he knew that her herbcraft had saved the gwerbret’s life the winter past. She wondered if he suspected her other skills as well.
‘Well, Jill,’ Cadmar said. ‘Have you spoken with those prisoners yet?’
‘I have, Your Grace, and it’s about them, in fact, that I’ve come. Spies they’re not, as you might expect with one of them blind. That Gel da’Thae is a bard and here on a tragic errand indeed. I’d like to treat them as guests - well, guarded guests, if you take my meaning - and put them in a chamber here in the broch. Is that possible?’
‘And have I ever turned away a man who deserved my hospitality? But-’
‘I’ll explain, Your Grace,’ Jill went on. ‘When these raiders first showed up in your lands, I thought they were after the usual sort of booty. Do you remember the talk we had about that, what they wanted, I mean, after you tracked down and destroyed the raiding party?’
‘I do, not that you told me much in the way of hard fact.’ Cadmar allowed himself a smile. ‘You were starting to get a different idea, you said, but you didn’t tell me what you meant.’
‘Well, my apologies, but my idea sounds far-fetched, you see, so much so that Tin still not sure of it. I do think, though, that Meer can tell me what I need to know, that he’s got the missing piece of this puzzle, somewhere in his stock of bard lore. But if we don’t treat him well and show him some trust, he’s not going to trust me enough in return to tell me one word of what he might know.’
‘That’s quite true.’ Cadmar snapped his fingers at a serving girl. ‘Run fetch the chamberlain. Tell him that we have a guest to accommodate and him a travelling bard at that.’
The lass curtsied and hurried away. Gwinardd was staring, as shocked by this ready acquiescence as young jahdo had been by her dweomer light.
‘My thanks.’ Jill rose, nodding his way in lieu of a bow, since she was wearing brigga and thus had no skirt to curtsey with. ‘May I have your leave, Your Grace?’
‘Of course. But where is this sudden guest, then?’