"David Eddings - Belgarath the Sorcerer (2)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Eddings David)

"What are you talking about?"

"What you just said about Belar. He's the God of the Alorns, and


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you're an Alorn, aren't you?"

"Whatever gave you that peculiar notion? I'm no more an Alorn than you
are."

"I always thought you were. You've certainly spent enough time with
them."

"That wasn't my idea. My Master gave them to me about five thousand
years ago. There were a number of times when I tried to give them
back, but he wouldn't hear of it."

"Well, if you're not an Alorn, what are you?"

"I'm not really sure. It wasn't all that important to me when I was
young. I do know that I'm not an Alorn. I'm not crazy enough for
that."

"Grandfather!" Garion protested.

"You don't count, Garion. You're only half Alorn."

They reached the door of the cottage and carefully stamped the snow off
their feet before entering. The cottage was Aunt Pol's domain, and she
had strong feelings about people who tracked snow across her spotless
floors.

The interior of the cottage was warm and filled with golden lamplight
that reflected from the polished surfaces of Aunt Pol's copper-bottomed
pots and kettles and pans hanging from hooks on either side of the
arched fireplace. Durnik had built the table and chairs in the center
of the room out of oak, and the lamplight enhanced the golden color of
the wood.

The three of them immediately went to the fireplace to warm their hands
and feet.

The door to the bedroom opened, and Poledra came out.

"Well," she said, "did you see them off?"

"Yes, dear," Belgarath replied.