"Kate Elliott - Crossroads 01 - Spirit Gate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Elliott Kate)

against her face caught her words and flung them into nothing. Not that Flirt could understand her words,
only shading and emotion. Smart as pigs, the great eagles were, but no smarter than that no matter what
the old legends said.

That was the first thing you learned when you were marked out for a reeve: limits. A reeve could do so
much and no more, just like her eagle. In the old days, so the story went, the reeves had had more power
and been treated with more respect, but not any longer. Shadows had been creeping over the Hundred
for a long time but it was only now they seemed to be gathering strength.

She shook away these dusty and useless thoughts. Today had been good so far: Just after dawn in the
hamlet of Disa Falls she'd successfully mediated a dispute over the stones marking the boundary between
two fields. She'd allowed the local arkhon to offer a haunch of sheep as a snack for Flirt, enough to keep
her going until a real hunt. So it went, a typical start to a reeve's day.

Flirt banked and shifted position as the air currents altered because of a notch in the higher hills up to the
east. Below, the woodland frayed into the patchwork of saplings and underbrush stretching between
broad swaths of mature beech that betrayed human hands at work. Soon enough she saw a pretty green
valley nestled between the hills. It was mostly trees and meadows, but there was a village with a small
boat dock built out into the river and a few houses on the far bank beside new fields cut into the forest.
The summit road dipped down from the east to run by the village, which had probably grown up as a
wayfaring stop for travelers and merchants.

As she flew over, surveying the lay of the land, she was surprised to see a man actually in the act of
running a red eagle banner up the message pole set in the village square. She circled Flirt around and with
a swell of wings and a thump they landed on the stony beach. She hitched her legs out of the harness and
leaped down, absorbing the landing by bending her knees. A dozen villagers and more children had
gathered at a prudent distance outside the low stockade that kept woodland predators and pesky deer
out of their gardens and homes. She slipped her staff out of the harness and sauntered over. The staff in
her hand, the short sword rattling along her right thigh, and the quiver slung over her back weren't nearly
as daunting as Flirt. The eagle's amber stare, her massive claws, and her sheer, shocking size—bigger
than a surly cart horse and twice as mean—were enough to concern anyone. The eagle fluffed up her
feathers, whuffed, and settled down to wait.

"How can I help you folks?" Marit asked.

They weren't scared of her at any rate. They stared right at her boldly enough, maybe surprised to see a
woman.

"Go get the reeve some ale, and bread and cheese," said the man who still stood with the rope in one
hand. The banner snapped halfway up the pole.

In answer, a girl about ten years of age trotted, backward, toward an inn whose low barracks-like
building took up one entire side of the village square. The girl just could not rip her gaze away from the
eagle. Naturally, after a few steps, she stumbled and fell flat on her rump.

An older girl yelled, "Turn round, you ninny! That beast ain't going nowhere yet.

Others laughed as the girl got up and dusted off her bright red tunic and pantaloons, then bolted through
the open door of the inn. The sign creaking over the porch bore fresh paint and the cheerful visages of a
quintet of happy, drinking fellows: three men and two women. One of the painted men had an outlander's