"Julia Gray - Guardian 04 - The Red Glacier" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

him talking. If he did not, the boy knew that one of the women would soon come
and drag him back to their world, to the tedium of lessons, of cooking and
sewing, of building fires and weaving cloth. Yarek preferred the world of
adventure and battle, and ever since his father had been killed, his
grandfather represented his only direct link to that world.
'Can I fetch you a drink, jokull?' he asked, using the term that denoted
respect for an elder. Literally, it meant 'ice-wisdom', implying that the
person had a great deal of experience and was known for the proven worth of
his advice.
Takkara nodded his assent and watched as the boy scurried away. Sometimes, as
with most children, his motives were transparent, but there were other times
when it was clear that Yarek's mind worked on several different levels.
Watching him now, as he dipped the ladle into the mitral cauldron and filled a
metal cup, Takkara could not help wondering about his grandson's future. Yarek
had always been good-natured, but recently there had been something disturbing
about the intelligence hidden behind that deceptively cherubic face. Someone
so young should not question things as much as he did. Takkara was about to
say something to this effect when Yarek beat him to it — and in doing so,
deepened the old man's disquiet.
'But it's not really true, is it?' he asked, as he handed over the cup. 'I
mean, the sword is just a myth, isn't it?'
'Myths can be real. They have to begin somewhere. And there are some things we
just have to accept on faith.'
'Why?'
'Because that is what it means to be a soldier,' the inspirator replied
awkwardly. 'And you'll be a soldier soon, like your father.'
That silenced the boy for a while, and Takkara felt a wave of sadness envelop
them both. He reminded himself that his son had died in glory, that he now
strode across the Great Plain, but the pride he felt in Borgar's sacrifice did
not wholly counteract the ache of his absence. Nor did it quell the old man's
anger.
'What if I become a wizard instead?' Yarek asked eventually.
Takkara laughed, glad that the boy had returned their conversation to the
future rather than dwelling on the past — even if his question was ridiculous.
'You mean a neomancer. That would be good too. You could—'
'No. A wizard,' Yarek stated with solemn persistence.
'That's impossible!' the old man snapped, angry now. 'And you know it.'
The boy retreated into silence again, realizing that he'd gone too far this
time. A short while later, Takkara's curiosity overcame his misgivings.
'Do you think you have talent?' he asked tentatively. 'Enough to gain a
sizarship?'
'I hope so,' his grandson replied, though he sounded less confident now.
'Life under the pyramids is not easy,' Takkara told him. 'And any glory you
may earn will be at second-hand. You may never see the results of your work.
Are you sure that's what you want?'
Yarek didn't answer and Takkara took a sip of his mitra, which was growing
cool now. As always, the infusion of herbs tasted bitter, but he was used to
that. Their scent filled the house almost constantly - which was only right
and proper. He watched his grandson over the rim of the cup, wishing he could
tell what the boy was thinking.