"Robert Jordan - The Wheel of Time 02 - The Great Hunt" - читать интересную книгу автора (Jordan Robert)

never again make a weapon for one man to kill another. Every Aes Sedai swore it, and every woman of
them since has kept that oath. Even the Red Ajah, and they care little what happens to any male.

"One of those swords, a plain soldier's sword" — with a faint grimace, almost sad, if the Warder could
be said to show emotion, he slid the blade back into its sheath — "became something more. On the other
hand, those made for lord-generals, with blades so hard no bladesmith could mark them, yet marked
already with a heron, those blades became sought after."

Rand's hands jerked away from the sword propped on his knees. It toppled, and instinctively he
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grabbed it before it hit the floorstones. "You mean Aes Sedai made this? I thought you were talking
aboutyour sword."

"Not all heron-mark blades are Aes Sedai work. Few men handle a sword with the skill to be named
blademaster and be awarded a heron-mark blade, but even so, not enough Aes Sedai blades remain for
more than a handful to have one. Most come from master bladesmiths; the finest steel men can make, yet
still wrought by a man's hands. But that one, sheepherder . . . that one could tell a tale of three thousand
years and more."

"I can't get away from them," Rand said, "can I?" He balanced the sword in front of him on scabbard
point; it looked no different than it had before he knew. "Aes Sedai work."But Tam gave it to me. My
fathergave it to me . He refused to think of how a Two Rivers shepherd had come by a heron-mark
blade. There were dangerous currents in such thoughts, deeps he did not want to explore.

"Do you really want to get away, sheepherder? I'll ask again. Why are you not gone, then? The sword?
In five years I could make you worthy of it, make you a blademaster. You have quick wrists, good
balance, and you don't make the same mistake twice. But I do not have five years to give over to
teaching you, and you do not have five years for learning. You have not even one year, and you know it.
As it is, you will not stab yourself in the foot. You hold yourself as if the sword belongs at your waist,
sheepherder, and most village bullies will sense it. But you've had that much almost since the day you put
it on. So why are you still here?"

"Mat and Perrin are still here," Rand mumbled. "I don't want to leave before they do. I won't ever — I
might not see them again for — for years, maybe." His head dropped back against the wall. "Blood and
ashes! At least they just think I'm crazy not to go home with them. Half the time Nynaeve looks at me
like I'm six years old and I've skinned my knee, and she's going to make it better; the other half she looks
like she's seeing a stranger. One she might offend if she looks too closely, at that. She's a Wisdom, and
besides that, I don't think she's ever been afraid of anything, but she . . ." He shook his head. "And
Egwene. Burn me! She knows why I have to go, but every time I mention it she looks at me, and I knot
up inside and . . ." He closed his eyes, pressing the sword hilt against his forehead as if he could press
what he was thinking out of existence. "I wish . . . I wish . . ."

"You wish everything could be the way it was, sheepherder? Or you wish the girl would go with you
instead of to Tar Valon? You think she'll give up becoming an Aes Sedai for a life of wandering? With
you? If you put it to her in the right way, she might. Love is an odd thing." Lan sounded suddenly weary.
"As odd a thing as there is."