"Jordan, Robert- WOT 6- Lord of Chaos (UC)" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

He glared at the sere, windswept grasslands as he strode from one position to the next. So here he was, hoping the Aiel did not decide to attack despite—or because of—whatever it wSs the Shaido Wise Ones were talking over with Coiren and the others. He suspected there might be enough out there to overrun him even with Aes Sedai help. He was on his way to Cairhien, and he did not know how he felt about that. Coiren had made him swear to hold his mission secret, and even then seemed afraid of what she was saying. Well she might be. It was always best to examine carefully what an Aes Sedai said—they could not lie, but they could spin truth like a top—yet even so, he found no hidden meanings. The six Aes Sedai were going to ask the Dragon Reborn to accompany them to the Tower, with the Younglings, commanded by the son of the Queen of Andor, for an escort of honor. There Could be only one reason, one that plainly shocked Coiren enough that she only hinted at it. It shocked Gawyn. Elaida intended to announce to the world that the White Tower supported the Dragon Reborn.

It was almost unbelievable. Elaida had been a Red before she became Amyrlin. Reds hated the very idea of men channeling; they did not think much of men in general, for that matter. Yet the fall of the once-invincible Stone of Tear, fulfilling prophecy, said Rand al'Thor was the Dragon Reborn, and even Elaida said the Last Battle was coming. Gawyn could hardly reconcile the frightened farmboy who had literally fallen into the Royal Palace in Caemlyn with the man in the rumors that drifted up the River Erinin to Tar Valon. It was said he had hanged Tairen High Lords and let Aiel loot the Stone. He had certainly brought the Aiel across the Spine of the World, for only the second time since the Breaking, to ravage Cairhien. Perhaps it was the madness.

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Gawyn had rather liked Rand al'Thor; he regretted that the man had turned out to be what he was.

By the time he came back to Jisao's group, someone else was in sight coming from the west, a peddler in a floppy hat, leading a slab-sided pack mule. Straight toward the hill; he had seen them.

Jisao shifted, then went still again when Gawyn touched his arm. Gawyn knew what the younger man was thinking, but if the Aiel decided to kill this fellow, there was nothing they could do. Coiren would be less than pleased if he started a battle with the people she was talking to.

The peddler shambled along unconcernedly, right by the bush Gawyn had disturbed with his rock. The mule started cropping desultorily at the brown grass as the man pulled off his hat, sketched a bow that took them all in and began mopping his grizzled face with a grimy neckerchief. "The Light shine on you, my Lords. You're well set up for traveling in these parlous times, as any man can see, but if there's any small thing you need, like as not old Mil Tesen's got it in his packs. Ain't no better prices in ten miles, my Lords."

Gawyn doubted there was as much as a farm within ten miles. "Parlous times indeed, Master Tesen. Aren't you afraid of Aiel?"

"Aiel, my Lord? They's all down to Cairhien. Old Mil can smell Aiel, he can. Truth, he wishes there was some here. Fine trading with Aiel. They got lots of gold. From Cairhien. And they don't bother peddlers. Everybody knows that."

Gawyn forbore asking why, if the Aiel in Cairhien made such good trading, the man was not heading south. "What news of the world, Master Tesen? We're from the north, and you may know what hasn't caught up to us yet from the south."

"Oh, big doings southward, my Lord. You'll have heard of Cairhien? Him that calls himself Dragon and all?" Gawyn nodded, and he went on. "Well, now he's taken Andor. Most of it, anyway. Their queen's dead. Some say he'll take the whole world before—" The man cut off with a strangled yelp before Gawyn realized he had seized the fellow's lapels.

"Queen Morgase is dead? Speak, man! Quickly!"

Tesen rolled his eyes looking for help, but he spoke, and quickly. "That's what they say, my Lord. Old Mil don't know, but he thinks it so. Everybody says it, my Lord. Everybody says

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this Dragon did it. My Lord? Old Mil's neck, my Lord! My Lord!"

Gawyn jerked his hands away as though burned. He felt on fire inside. It had been another neck he wanted in his hands. "The Daughter-Heir." His voice sounded far off. "Is there any word of the Daughter-Heir, Elayne?"

Tesen backed away a long pace as soon as he was free. "Not as old Mil knows, my Lord. Some says she's dead, too. Some says he killed her, but old Mil don't know for sure."

Gawyn nodded slowly. Thought sgemed to be drifting up from the bottom of a well. My blood shed before hers; my life given before hers. "Thank you, Master Tesen. I. ..." My blood shed before hers.... That was the oath he had taken when barely tall enough to peer into Elayhe's cradle. "You may trade with.... Some of my men may need...." Gareth Bryne had had to explain to him what it meant, but even then he had known he had to keep that oath if he failed at everything else in his life. Jisao and the others were looking at him worriedly. "Take care of the peddler," he told Jisao roughly, and turned away.

His mother dead, and Elayne. Only a rumor, but rumors on everyone's lips sometimes had a way of turning out true. He climbed half a dozen paces toward the Acs Sedai camp before he knew it. His hands hurt. He had to look to realize they were cramping from the grip he had on his sword hilt, and he had to force them to let go. Coiren and the others meant to take Rand al'Thor to Tar Valon, but if his mother was dead.... Elayne. If they were dead, he would see whether the Dragon Reborn could live with a sword through his heart!

Adjusting her red-fringed shawl, Katerine Alruddin rose f*om the cushions with the other women in the tent. She almost sniffed when Coiren, plump and pompous, intoned, "As it has been agreed, so shall it be." This was a meeting with savages, not the conclusion of 'a treaty between the Tower and a ruler.

The Aiel women showed no more reaction, no more expression, than when they first arrived. That was something of a surprise; kings and queens betrayed their innermost feelings when faced by two or three Acs Sedai, much less half a dozen; brutish savages surely should be trembling visibly by now. Perhaps that should have been almost no reaction. Their leader—her name

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