"Gray, Julia - Guardian 01 - The Dark Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

'Where?' Aylor demanded. 'Who were you with?'
Elam struggled to make sense of these questions, his mind still spinning.
'Well?'
'I'm not sure,' he mumbled. 'I didn't know them.'
The Head Warden turned to the watching crowd.
'Did any of you share your cell with this boy?'
No one answered. Terrel thought about speaking up, but it was common knowledge that he and Elam were friends. And he was not sure that Toresh and Rian could be trusted to back him up.
'You were outside,' Aylor stated flatly. 'Were you alone?'
'Yes . . . No. I wasn't outside.'
'You're lying. What were you doing out there? Trying to escape?'
Elam shook his head.
'You're a fool, boy,' Aylor told him. 'You think to deny my authority? The punishment for that is harsh. Just in case anyone else gets any stupid ideas, I'm going to have to make an example of you.'
The dagger appeared in the captain's hand as if by magic.
'No!' Terrel screamed. 'No! It was my idea! I . . .' But his voice was lost among the other cries that Aylor's sudden action had provoked.
And by then it was too late. Aylor struck so fast and with such clinical brutality that no one could doubt that the blow was fatal. Elam looked down at his chest, the expression on his face not one of pain but of sheer surprise. The blade had sunk in up to the hilt, and it was only when the captain wrenched it out again that the boy felt a short-lived shiver of agony. Then his legs gave way altogether and he fell into an endless darkness.
After their initial outburst, the onlookers all fell silent, aghast. Even Ingo looked horrified. Terrel felt as though his own heart had been pierced; he could not move, or breathe, and his mind simply refused to accept what he had just seen. An anguished voice inside his head shouted endless, hopeless denials. Doubling up, his eyes temporarily blind, he shook uncontrollably, his stomach heaving. He did not hear Aylor's terse final words as he told the inmates that this was the justice they could expect, and that security would be tighter from now on. It was only when Aylor had gone and the crowd was dispersing that he was able to move at all. Ignoring the orders of the guards, he staggered over to where Elam's lifeless body had been thrown down on the steps. Terrel wanted to comfort him, to tell him that he loved him, that he was sorry ... to bring him back to life. But before he even got close one of the soldiers grabbed him.
'Where do you think you're going, son?'
'He was my friend,' Terrel gasped, aware for the first time of the tears running down his face.
'Well, he ain't no more,' the soldier said. 'And you'd better not make too much fuss unless you want the same treatment. On your way.'
Terrel stopped struggling then, still staring at the untidy pile of flesh and rags that was all that was left of his friend. And then he glanced up and saw Ingo looking back at him. There was a smile on the warden's face - and in that moment, Terrel knew that at least one person had heard him cry out. His own life was now held in Ingo's treacherous hands.
Terrel expected them to come for him all morning, but it was only when the inmates were allowed a break for their frugal midday meal that his fears were confirmed. The preceding hours had passed in a fog of pain and self-recrimination, but when he saw Ingo in conversation with Toresh and Rian, both of whom looked understandably fearful, he knew his time was up. Ingo and the soldier with him turned away and began to walk towards Terrel - and it was then that he saw what the warden held in his hands. It was Muzeni's journal, the one that had been hidden beneath his pallet.
In spite of his fear, Terrel suddenly felt quite calm. He was in no doubt now that his overnight absence had been discovered and - even though no one could possibly know where the journal had come from - his mere possession of such a book would serve to confirm his guilt. Given recent events, he could expect little mercy from Aylor. Part of him was almost glad. Alyssa's coma and Elam's death had deprived him of both the people he loved; there seemed little left worth living for. But as Ingo and his doom moved closer, such fatalism was replaced by the instinctive need for self-preservation and he glanced around, assessing his chances of escape. The hall was crowded, with all the doorways guarded, so the prospects were not good. There was nowhere to run.
And then an inhuman howling split the air, with a cry that was born in the wild mountains. Many of those in the room clapped their hands to their ears to keep out the fearful din, while others were so startled they almost fell from their benches. At the same time a bowl, full of the thin soup that was the main part of the meal, was hurled at Ingo, splattering him with broth and forcing him to duck aside. A moment later, the source of the awful noise was on the move. With unbelievable agility for one so ancient, Old Timi leapt first onto a trestle table and then from there at Ingo. The madman's hands were curved into claws, and his toothless mouth was open wide in a mad snarl. His moon was full and he was a wolf again.
Ingo tried to swat him away like a bothersome insect, but the wolf possessed a strength that Old Timi did not, and the two men went down in a tangle of limbs. Several other long-term inmates decided to give vent to their own inner demons, shouting or laughing in turn. Many of them climbed up onto the tables, sending crockery flying in all directions. The more recent arrivals were either frightened or bemused by these antics, but most of them stood up too, adding to the confusion. The watching sentries hesitated, unable to make any sense of what was going on, then began to force their way towards the howling at the centre of the disruption.
Terrel didn't know what had brought on this lunatic demonstration, but he wasn't going to wait to find out. Instead, he dived to the floor and began to crawl on all fours through the melee towards the nearest exit. When he reached the door it was unguarded and he slipped out, hobbling as fast as he could down the corridor. He had no idea where he was going, and only wanted to put as much distance between himself and Ingo as possible - so it came as something of a surprise when he bolted through another open doorway and found himself in the kitchens.
'I might have known it'd be you causing all that commotion,' Ahmeza remarked. She was standing in front of him, with her arms folded and a fierce look in her eyes. Having discharged her most recent duty, she was alone, her domain otherwise deserted for the time being. 'They're going to kill me,' Terrel gasped. The cook's eyes hardened. She had not witnessed Elam's execution, but she'd heard all about it, and the news had only confirmed her opinion of Captain Aylor.
'Then you'd best not let them catch you,' she said. 'In here.' She pulled the lid off a barrel, normally used for storing apples but empty now, the fruit having gone to feed the many extra mouths.
Terrel hesitated, staring first at the barrel, then at the cook, wondering why she had decided to help him. 'Come on!' she snapped. 'Get in.' He did as he was told, and squashed himself down inside the sweet-smelling wooden struts. As Ahmeza replaced the lid the darkness was almost complete, and the heady scent of fruit was overwhelming. Trying to still his convulsive shaking, Terrel listened hard for any signs of pursuit, but all he could hear was the thumping of his own heart. It was so loud that he thought the soldiers must hear it if they came too close. However, the next activity in the kitchens came not from the militiamen searching for the fugitive but from Ahmeza's helpers returning with dirty plates and bowls, and the usual bustle was restored. Terrel remained perfectly still, even though his muscles were beginning to cramp, and prayed to all the moons and stars for deliverance.
Some time later he heard voices raised above the clatter of pots and pans, and knew that the soldiers had come. Their search did not last long under Ahmeza's scolding tongue.
'You think I wouldn't know if he was in my own kitchens?'
When they had gone Terrel relaxed a little, and for the first time began to wonder what he was supposed to do next. If he stayed at the haven he would soon be captured, and so it seemed that he had no choice but to try to escape to the outside world. This thought frightened him Almost as much as that of facing Aylor - and he had no idea how to make such an attempt.
Time passed and, drunk on fermented apple fumes, Terrel dozed. The kitchens grew quieter again, and then Ahmeza greeted a newcomer.
'Jon! About time too!'
'Hello, sister,' the man replied. 'I came as fast as I could.'
'I'm glad you're here,' she told him, with as much warmth in her voice as Terrel had ever heard. It had never even occurred to him that the cook must have a family somewhere.
'Did you bring all I asked for?' she said.
'Almost. Come and see.'
The voices retreated for a while, then returned.
'As soon as the unloading is complete, take the ponies and the cart over to the stables,' Ahmeza told her brother. 'It's too late for you to head back tonight, so you'd better stay here and head out in the morning.'
'All right.' Jon sounded reluctant, but obviously saw the sense of the idea.
'I'm sorry I couldn't get Aylor to meet your full price,' she added. 'We'll all starve before that man sees sense.'
'It's not so bad, if I get the firewood we agreed on,' he replied.
'It's the one thing we have plenty of,' Ahmeza said. 'Till the winter, at least. I'll get some of the lads to load the cart up tonight, so you can leave at first light.'
'Fair enough.'
'Just make sure none of the loonies try to leave with you,' the cook advised him, laughing. 'Our captain doesn't like anyone who breaks his precious rules.'
Hidden in his fragrant refuge, Terrel realized that the cook had staged the conversation near the barrel for his benefit.
'They're looking for one poor kid now,' Ahmeza went on. 'Going through the whole house, room by room. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes when they find him. Come on, let's find you a bed for the night.'
That was as clear a warning as he was ever going to get, Terrel thought. He had to get out of the house soon, because even the kitchen could not remain a safe refuge for much longer. He needed to hide somewhere in the grounds, and then - somehow - get himself aboard Jon's cart in the morning. It sounded simple enough, put like that, but the frightened boy had no idea how to go about it.
Where could he go - always assuming that he was able to leave the kitchens undetected? The observatory? That seemed like tempting fate, and the memories of his disastrous visit there with Elam were still painfully fresh in his mind. Could he hide in the stables? No, that was too obvious, too risky. Where then? The woods? Down the well? Don't be absurd, he told himself angrily. When it came to him at last, the answer was frightening, but he knew it was his best chance. No one would think of looking for him there - if only he could make it that far.
The kitchens had been quiet for some time now, but Terrel knew they would not remain so for long. If he was ever going to leave, it had to be now. He carefully pushed the lid of the barrel aside and stood up, almost crying as the pain lanced through his stiff legs. Climbing out proved difficult, especially as he was terrified of making a noise, but he managed it, and then limped over to the door that led out to the gardens and peered through. It was dusk, with a light drizzle falling from a leaden sky, and no one seemed to be about. So Terrel forced his protesting limbs into action again and ran crookedly into the cover of the vegetable patch. Crouching there among the tomatoes and beans, he heard no sound of any alarm. So far, so good.