"Douglas Hill - Blade of the Poisoner" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hill Douglas)

PART ONE

Gathering of Talents

1

Death in the Wellwood

Jarral Gullen slid noiselessly forward through the brush. Gripping his spear
firmly, he fixed his gaze on his quarry, feeding unaware in the sunlit glade.
One more silent step forward... then one more....

But an unseen briar, snagging his bare ankle, brought JarraPs game abruptly to
a halt. "Ow!" he said, stumbling sideways. Three twigs snapped under his feet
and a sapling threshed as he fell against it. His prey, a small, tufty-tailed
rodent, swept up a tree with a volley of chittering abuse as JarraPs spear
clattered harmlessly against a lower branch.

Jarral stepped out of the thicket, glanced up at the foliage where the little
animal had disappeared, then gazed round at the great trees of the Wellwood,
the forest that gave his village its name. The trees and shrubs still
displayed the freshness of their early summer greening. Even the glade's
carpeting of coarse grass was glowing with new green, dotted here and there
with tiny wildflowers bright as jewels.

Jarral ambled across the glade to retrieve his weapon—a thin, slightly crooked
stick that was a spear only in his imagination. Idly he used it to prod

3

4 BLADE OF THE POISONER

a small anthill, then squatted to watch the insects scurry. He was just twelve
years old, an ordinary boy from the tiny forest village. He was of average
height and weight for his age, with plain brown hair and brown eyes and a
plain, cheerful face, simply dressed in shirt, short trousers, and sturdy
shoes.

He glanced around the glade again. The day was wearing on towards
mid-afternoon, and the overcast sky had begun to darken slightly as heavier
clouds moved above the forest, bringing the murky threat of a thunderstorm.
That did not trouble Jarral, for the weather was very often gloomy, with
frequent swirls of storm clouds and mutters of thunder. In that land, sunlit
days tended to be rare. But with the humid heaviness of the air, Jarral
decided that what he wanted was a cool drink from the great spring-fed well on
the fringe of the forest, around which clustered the villagers' cottages.

He set off at an easy jog toward the well. After his drink he supposed he
should go and see if his cousins had any chores for him. He did not feel at
all like doing chores, but he knew that his life would be a little more