"Sorcerer's Son" - читать интересную книгу автора (Phyllis Eisenstein)

“Yes, my lord,” said Gildrum, and after she got the notebook she pulled up the tall stool, foreseeing a long session ahead. She sighed. Rezhyk found the deciphering of ancient lore fascinating, but she found it tedious; she had no talent for such things, and her contribution was usually limited to a nod of her head or murmur of agreement or, at most, a reminder to the sorcerer of something he had already said. Rezhyk insisted this was all useful, and so he bade her sit by while he worked.

She sat, and if her mind was elsewhere, he did not notice. She thought of the skeleton in the lava—a woman’s skeleton, she decided, too delicate for a man’s, the hips too broad in proportion to the shoulders and rib cage. Many women had died with Ushar. Gildrum wondered if this one had been old or young, dark or fair, ugly or beautiful: Beautiful, she resolved, as all women should be—tall and brown-haired and beautiful. Unbidden, the image of Delivev rose in the demon’s mind—beautiful and melancholy enough to tear the heart from any man’s breast. Heartless in any anatomical sense, Gildrum still felt a pang deep within her being—not the human form worn like a mask upon the truth, but the demon essence, the intangible, inhuman reality. As her eyes could almost see Delivev, so her ears could almost hear the music drifting upward from Spinweb’s garden. Her fingers interlaced tightly upon her lap, as if that tension could drive the memories from her. Resolutely, she turned her mind to thoughts of Cray, upon the road to Falconhill.

Upon his quest for a knight who never existed.



Cray and Feldar Sepwin arrived at the third fork in the road.

“We’re to turn south here,” said Cray, “and then we must ask directions of some local, for I have no further knowledge of the route.”

Sepwin nodded, squinting up at the sky. “Does it look like rain to you? Perhaps we should seek shelter.”

Cray glanced up at the clouds bunched gray about the sun. “No rain for a few hours yet, I’d say. Let’s go on.”

The sky grew no darker, but in a short time they were forced to stop anyway because Gallant began to limp. Sepwin examined the favored hoof, found a sharp stone lodged there, and carefully removed it with the point of Cray’s knife. He said, “He shouldn’t walk on this foot anymore today.”

“There’s a hut up ahead,” Cray said, gesturing with one hand. “I saw it from the last rise.

We can stop there and be sheltered if the rain comes.”

“Unless it’s abandoned and has no roof,” said Sepwin.

“Do you always think of the worst possible eventuality, Master Feldar?”

“For beggars, that is the usual one,” Sepwin replied.

“But you are not a beggar any more. Come along. I predict that not only does the hut have a sturdy and weatherproof roof, but it is inhabited and we will find a hot supper there.” He took Gallant’s reins and walked ahead, the horse trailing after, still limping.

Pulling his own mount along, Sepwin fell into stride with Cray. “What is the source of this prediction, Master Cray? Wishful thinking?”

“Look at the grass encroaching on the road. Someone has cut it back recently, someone uses this road. Who more likely than the folk who live in yonder hut? We’ve seen no other dwelling in many miles. ”

“Perhaps the lord of .this land sends his men to keep the roads clear,” said Sepwin.

“Always the worst possible eventuality, as I said. Would you care to wager on it?”

“With what, Master Cray? My rags?” He halted abruptly. “Wait—I see smoke rising from that hut. Perhaps you are right after all.” He lifted one hand to his face, covered his right eye with it. “Have you a rag, Master Cray? A scrap of something?”

“I have a kerchief. I’m sure that will do.”

Sepwin nodded. “Quickly, before someone sees us.”

Cray found the fine linen square in one of his saddlebags. It was embroidered with his initials.

“Rather an elegant eye patch,” said Sepwin, folding it into a bandage and tying it at the back of his head.

“It does make a bit of a contrast with your other clothing,” remarked Cray. “For one thing, it’s clean, Well, perhaps we can do something about that while we wait for Gallant’s hoof to heal.”