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

memories escaped him. The world teemed with visions that drove out the
ordinary details, such as the names of the cities they visited and at times
even the names of his wife and children. That they were his wife and children
he never forgot.
At night when he slept, his dreams took him to strange worlds filled with
stranger spirits. On purple seas he travelled in a barge while a sun of poison
green hung at zenith. Enormous undines followed and held out long grey hands
while they asked him questions in a language he'd never heard. Other nights he
climbed mountains of crystal where the rivers ran with blood, or he would ride
six-legged beasts like emerald insects across sand dunes to the ruins of
cities.
Every dream ended the same way. He would reach his destination, whether a city
of gold by a harbour or a cavern glittering with sapphires and emeralds, and
walk into a building - a temple, perhaps, to unknown gods or a tavern filled
with incense smoke and plangent music. The room would annoy him, and he would
leave it, going from chamber to chamber or down long halls until at last he
would see the door. It was always the same, this door, a solid thing of dark
wood bound with iron. He would remember that in the room behind this door lay
a magical book. If he could read that book, he would once again know who he
was.
When he pushed on it, the door opened easily, but instead of a room, he would
find himself in a large canvas tent, lying on a sleeping mat. Usually sunlight
would glow through the walls, and he would see wealth around him:
brightly-coloured tent bags and carpets, rolled mats, wooden stools, big
pottery jars. Sometimes people with dark skins and black hair would be sitting
nearby. He would find his clothes lying beside him on the floor cloth, and he
would dress, looking round at the objects in the tent and trying to remember
their names while the Wildfolk flocked around him or chased each other back
and forth.
Some while later, he would realize that he was awake.
A city of trees and broad avenues, Myleton lay on the northern seacoast of
Bardektinna, the biggest island in the vast and complex archipelago that
Deverry men call Bardek, lumping all the islands together with a fine
disregard for their inhabitants' politics and geography both. It was a rich
city, too, where the public buildings gleamed with pale marble and the homes
of the prosperous aped them with white stucco walls. Just to the south stood a
public caravanserai with good deep wells and shade trees. After Keeta
bargained with the archon's men - public servants in charge of the campground
- the troupe pulled in and got itself settled. Since the rainy season had
begun, they had the caravanserai to themselves.
'At least there won't be strangers,' Marka said. 'Sometimes when Ebany's
babbling, and there are strangers listening, I just want to die.'
'Now, now, little one,' Keeta said. 'It's no fault of yours, and who cares
what strangers think? I'm more worried about the children, myself. Their
father's madness - it can't be good for them to see him like this.'
'It's not, no. I try to talk with Kwinto, but he just shrugs me off. After
all, he's almost a man now, he keeps things to himself. But Tillya - she's
truly upset. She loves her father so much, and she's old enough to
understand.'
Marka and Keeta were walking through the public bazaar, which, here in winter,