"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 07 - A Time Of War" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

‘If you want to go see, lad, I’ll keep the food here and cool for you.’

Leaving the boat behind, Jahdo made his way to shore on foot, hopping from log to log. He arrived at
the edge of the crowd just as the gates swung wide and a line of men and mules began to file through.
Since he was the shortest person in the crowd, Jahdo couldn’t see a thing. For a few minutes he trotted
this way and that, hoping to find a way to squeeze through to the front, decided that he might as well give
it up, then heard muttering and oaths from the front of the crowd. The press began to surge backwards,
men swearing and stepping back fast though without turning to look where they were going. Jahdo tried
to run, nearly fell, nearly panicked, and cried out.

‘Here, lad!’ Lael grabbed him. This be a bit dangerous for someone your size. Hang on, and I’ll lift you
up.’

‘Da! I didn’t even see you.’

‘Ah, but I did see you, and I was heading your way.’

Riding secure on his father’s shoulders jahdo at last discovered the cause of the commotion. A pair of
merchants on horseback, a pack of ordinary guards and a string of heavily laden mules had all marched
by when, at the very end of the line, a man-like figure strode in, leading an enormous white horse laden
with sacks and bundles. It was one of the Gel da’Thae, swinging a stout staff back and forth and side to
side in front of him as he walked, as if he were clearing something out of his path.

He stood perhaps seven feet tall, roughly man-shaped with two short-ish but sturdy legs, a long torso,
two long arms, and a face with recognizable man-like features - but he was no man nor dwarf, either. His
skin was as pale as milk in the places where it appeared between the lacings of his tight leather shirt and
trousers, but his black hair was as coarse and bristling-straight as a boar’s. At the bridge of his enormous
nose his eyebrows grew together in a sharp V and merged into his hairline. His hair itself plumed up, then
swept back and down over his long skull to cascade to his waist. Here and there in this mane hung tiny
braids, tied off with thongs and little charms and amulets. The backs of his enormous hands were furred
with stubby black hair, too. His cheeks, however, were hairless, merely tattooed all over in a complex
blue and purple pattern of lines and circles.

As lie walked, he turned his head this way and that, to listen rather than look, because where eyes
should have gleamed under his furred brows were only empty sockets, pale and knotted with scars.

‘Oh!’ Jahdo spoke without thinking, in his piping boy’s voice that cut through the noise of the crowd.
‘He be blind.’

With a toss of his maned head the Gel da’Thae stopped walking m front of Lael and swung toward the
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sound of Jahdo’s voice. He bared strong white teeth, with more than a hint of fang about the incisors.

‘Do you mock me, lad?’ Although he spoke in the language of the Rhiddaer, his voice growled out and
rumbled, echoing back and forth like the waves of a storm slapping off a pier.