"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 10 - The Black Raven" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

'Bardek's a richer country than the Westlands.'
'Just so, but your father's getting on in years. He desperately wants to see
you. He worries about you, too, off in this far country. And now I see that he
has grandchildren, and here he doesn't even know it.'
At that Marka made a little whimpering sound, quickly stifled. Salamander
glanced her way.
'If he dies without seeing you,' Marka started, then let her voice fade away.
'And then there's your brother.' Evandar leaned forward, smiling at Kwinto, to
press his advantage. 'Did you know you have an uncle, boy? In far-off Deverry?
His name is Rhodry Maelwaedd, and he's a great warrior, one that poets make
songs about.'
Kwinto's eyes widened. Salamander held up a hand to keep him silent.
'My father's concern,' Salamander said, and he could hear the bitterness in
his own voice, 'my father's concern comes a bit late. When I rode with him at
home all he ever felt for me was contempt.'
His voice drained all the colour from the tent and the people in it. He saw
them all turn grey and as stiff as those little drawings a scribe makes in the
margins of a scroll. The wind lifted the tent flap, and Devaberiel walked in
to stand with his thumbs hooked in his belt. Salamander got to his feet.
'What are you doing here?' he snapped. 'Evandar just said you were back in
Deverry.'
His father ignored the question and stood looking around the tent with a
little twisted smile. He was a handsome man, Devaberiel, in the elvish manner,
with moon-beam pale hair, and tall, walking round with a warrior's swagger as
he looked over the tent and its contents.
"You could at least talk to me!' Salamander took one step toward him.
Devaberiel yawned in complete indifference.
'Curse you!'
'Oh please!' Marka rose to her knees and grabbed the edge of his tunic.
'Ebany, stop it! There's no one there!'
She was right. His father had disappeared. No - he'd never really been there,
had he? Salamander turned toward Marka and found her weeping. He could think
of nothing to say, nothing at all, but he sat down next to her and reached out
a hand. She clasped it in both of hers while the tears ran down her face. In a
rustle of wind the Wildfolk crept into the tent and stood round the edge like
a circle of mourners. Am I dead then? he thought.
At the thought he felt his consciousness rise and drift free of his body.
Although the light turned bluish and dim, he could see his body slump and fall
forward, spilling plates and cups alike. He could also see that he now
occupied a strange silver flame-like shape, joined to that body by a mist of
silver cord. Marka clasped her hands to her mouth to stifle a scream; Kwinto
leapt to his feet. Evandar got up more slowly.
'Follow the cord,' he said, 'Follow the cord back.'
With a rush of dizzy fall Salamander felt himself descend and slam back into
the flesh so hard he groaned aloud. He lay on his back amid spilled food and
stared at the peak of the tent's roof, which seemed to be slowly turning.
'This is terrible,' Evandar was saying. 'What's happened to him?'
'He's gone mad,' Marka said. 'It's been coming on for a long time, but now -
it's - it's taken him over.'
Salamander watched the roof spin and tried to think. He could hear Marka and