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

“No?”

“Not even the horses could break down these walls, Master Feldar.”

“I see.” He was silent a moment, in the darkness, then he said, “What if I wanted to get out?”

“And face the insects? I can hear them humming already. Listen.”

The sound was soft, but increasing, a high-pitched buzz rising all about them, and once more Sepwin’s horse shifted uneasily and had to be soothed.

“Well, I don’t want to go out now, of course,” said Sepwin, “but just for the sake of argument, if I wanted for some reason to go out, how would I do it?”

“I thought you weren’t afraid of spiders, Master Feldar. Or have you decided you’re afraid of me?”

“Oh, no… but if something should happen to you. To be quite blunt, Master Cray, I don’t fancy being locked in here forever.”

Cray laughed. “Always worrying, Master Feldar. Well, let me assure you that even magic webs don’t last forever. Especially my magic, which is of a very inferior kind. It would fall apart within a few days, and you would emerge none the worse except for a bit of hunger.” He yawned. “But I don’t plan to die or desert you right now, so why don’t you go to sleep? We’ll want an early start in the morning. I don’t want to spend more time than absolutely necessary in this swamp.”

In the morning, he gathered the spiders into his sleeves, and the webs broke apart at his touch, like any spiderwebs, letting the companions out into the sunshine. After a quick breakfast, they rode on. Deeper in the swamp, there were ever fewer trees and more coarse grass, more open water, and ever more waterfowl; about noon Cray netted a brace of ducks and hung them from his saddle for later. Shortly after that, the companions found themselves facing a wide sheet of water. They could see the road continuing on the far side, but on the near it ended at a pair of wooden posts.

“So much for the accuracy of the map,” said Sepwin.

Cray dismounted to examine the wood, to pick at it with his fingers. “There was a bridge here. A fairly old bridge. I’d like to think that it washed away since the map was made.”

“If there was a bridge,” said Sepwin, “then the water is too deep to wade.”

“I would presume so. We’ll have to swim it.”

“Swim? I don’t know how to swim.”

“Neither do I, but the horses probably do.”

“Probably?”

“It should be easy. The current looks slow enough. You won’t be swept away. Just hang on tight.”

“Not I,” said Sepwin.

“Don’t be afraid.”

“Easy for you to say.”

Cray shook his head. “Have we come all this way to balk at a little water?”

“Can’t we go around it?”

“If there had been an easy route around it, the road would go that way instead of crossing. Come along now. Or shall I leave you here to face the insects alone tonight?”

Sepwin stared at the water. “I’m really frightened Master Cray. We don’t know how deep the water is.”