"David Gemmell - Wolf in Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gemmel David)

back soon; I'm worried for him.’I could look for him, if you would like. He
may have fallen from his horse.’He was driving our wagon. Stay and talk, Mr
Shannow; it is so long since we had company. You can give us news of . . .
where have you come from?’From the south and east, across the grass prairies.
Before that I was at sea for two years - trading with the Ice Settlements
beyond Volcano Rim.’That is said to be the edge of the world.’I think it is
where Hell begins. You can see the fires lighting the horizon for a thousand
miles.'Donna eased past him into the main room. Eric was yawning and his
mother ordered him to bed. He argued as all young people do, but finally
obeyed her, leaving his bedroom door ajar.

Shannow lowered himself into the comfort chair, stretch-ing his long
legs out before the stove. His eyes burned with fatigue.

'Why do you wander, Mr Shannow?' asked Donna, sitting on the goatskin
rug in front of him.
 'I am seeking a dream. A city on a hill.’I have heard of cities to the
south.’They are settlements, though some of them are large. But no, my city
has been around for much longer, it was built, destroyed and rebuilt thousands
of years ago. It is called Jerusalem and there is a road leading to it - a
black road, with glittering diamonds in the centre that shine in the
night.'The Bible city?’The very same.’It is not about here, Mr Shannow. Why do
you seek it?'He smiled. 'I have been asked that question many, many times and
I cannot answer it. It is a need I carry - an obsession, if you will. When the
earth toppled and the oceans swelled, all became chaos. Our history is lost to
us and we no longer know from whence we come, nor where we are going. In
Jerusalem there will be answers, and my soul will rest.’It is very dangerous
to wander, Mr Shannow. Especially in the wild lands beyond Rivervale.'The
lands are not wild, Lady - at least, not for a man who knows their ways. Men
are wild and they create the wild lands wherever they are. But I am a known
man and I am rarely troubled.’Are you known as a war-maker?’I am known as a
man war-makers should avoid.’You are playing with words.’No, I am a man who
loves peace.’My husband was a man of peace.’Was?’Donna opened the stove door
and added several chunks of wood. She sat for some time staring into the
flames, and Shannow did not disturb the silence. At last she looked up at him.

'My husband is dead,' she said. 'Murdered.’By Brigands?’No, by the
Committee. They . . .’No!' screamed Eric, standing in the bedroom doorway in
his white cotton nightshirt. 'It's not true. He's alive! He's coming home - I
know he's coming home.'Donna Taybard ran to her son, burying his weeping face
against her breast. Then she led him back into the bedroom and Shannow was
alone. He strolled into the night. The sky was without stars, but the moon
shone bright through a break in the clouds. Shannow scratched his head,
feeling the dust and grit on his scalp. He removed his woollen jerkin and
undershirt and washed in a barrel of clear water, scrubbing the dirt from his
hair.

Donna walked out to stand on the porch and watch him. His shoulders
seemed unnaturally broad against the slim-ness of his waist and hips. Silently
she moved away from the house to the stream at the bottom of the hill. Here