"David Gemmell - Drenai Saga 04 - Quest For Lost Heroes" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

'It's not important,' replied the innkeeper. 'There's a pitcher of ale by the barrel. You're welcome to it - and there'll be no charge for your
drinks this evening."
'That's good of you,' said the man. 'Here, let me give you a hand with him.' Between them they hauled the ugly man upright and carried
him through to a room at the rear of the inn, where a lantern burned brightly and a bed was ready, the sheets drawn back. They laid the
unconscious warrior on the bed and the innkeeper sat beside him. He looked up at his helper; all the man's anger had disappeared.
'Go and enjoy your ale,' said the innkeeper. 'My wife will bring it to you.'
After the man had gone the innkeeper checked his friend's pulse. It was beating strongly.
'You can stop pretending now,' he remarked. 'We are alone.'
The ugly man's eyes opened and he eased himself up on the thick pillows. 'I didn't want to have to kill anyone,' he said, smiling
sheepishly and showing a broken tooth. 'Thanks for stopping it, Naza.'
'It was nothing,' Naza told him. 'But why do you not let it rest? The past is gone.'
'I was there, though. I was on the mountain. No one can take that from me.'
'No one would want to, my friend,' said Naza sadly.
The ugly man closed his eyes. 'It wasn't what I dreamed of,' he said.
'Nothing ever is,' replied Naza, standing and blowing out the lantern.
Later, after Naza and his wife Mael had cleared away the tankards, pitchers and plates, and locked the doors, they sat together by the
dying fire. Mael reached over and touched her husband's arm; he smiled and patted her hand.
'Why do you put up with him?' asked Mael. 'That's the third fight this month. It's bad for business.'
'He's my friend.'
'If he was truly your friend, he would not cause you so much grief,' she pointed out.
He nodded. 'There's truth in that, Mael my love. But I feel his sadness; it hurts me.'
Moving from her seat, she leaned over to kiss his brow. 'You are too soft-hearted. But that is one of the reasons I love you. So I won't
complain too much. I just hope he doesn't let you down.'
He pulled her into his lap. 'He will; he can't help it. He climbed the mountain, and now he has nowhere to go-'
'What mountain?'
'The worst kind, Mael. The kind that first you climb - and then you carry.'
'It is too late for riddles.'
'Yes,' he agreed, surging to his feet and holding her in his arms. 'Let me take you to bed.'
'Which bed? You put your drunken friend in ours!'
'The upper guest room is free.'
'And you think you're still young enough to carry me there?'
He chuckled and lowered her to the floor. 'I could - but I think I'll conserve what little strength I have for when we get there. You go up
and light the lantern. I'll be with you in a little while.'
He wandered back to his own room and pulled the boots from the sleeping man. A second knife clattered to the floor. Covering his friend
with a blanket, he crossed the room.
'Sleep well,' he whispered, pulling shut the door behind him.
 CHAPTER ONE
Seventeen people watched the duel, and not a sound could be heard above the whispering of the blades and the discordant music of steel
upon steel. The Earl rolled his wrist and sent a lancing stroke towards the face-mask of his opponent, but the man dropped his shoulder and
swayed aside, flashing a riposte which the Earl barely parried. For some minutes the two duellists were locked in a strategic battle, then the
Earl launched a blistering attack. His opponent - a tall, lean man wearing the grey habit of a monk beneath his mask and mail-shirt - defended
desperately. With a last hissing clash the swords came together, the Earl's blade sliding free to touch the monk's chest.
The duellists bowed to one another, and a light ripple of applause came from the spectators. The Earl's wife and his three sons moved out
on to the floor of the hall.
'You were wonderful, Father,' said the youngest, a blond-headed boy of seven. The Earl of Talgithir ruffled the boy's hair.
'Did you enjoy the exhibition?' he asked.
'Yes, Father,' the boys chorused.
'And what was the move by which your father defeated me?' asked the monk, pulling off his mask.
'The Classic Chare,' replied the eldest.
The monk smiled. 'Indeed it was, Lord Patris. You are studying well.'