"Mercedes Lackey - Flights of Fantasy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lackey Mercedes)

live like thralls, no doubt they will take you on at the farm," he said
stiffly. "But if you have the courage to risk a winter in the wilds, you might
one day share it with me—" Swiftly he explained
how he had been banished by his uncle and aunt, and his plans for revenge.
"You would give us a share in your land?" asked Hogni, the elder of the two.
"I would, or the value of it once it is producing once more."
"And you have not been outlawed?" asked Torstein.
"They do not know what has become of me," Bui gave a mirthless laugh. "I do
not offer you safety, but the chance to do deeds that will be remembered. It
is up to you. I ask only this. If you do not join me, then say nothing of my
presence on the fell. I think you owe me that much for pulling you out of the
sea."
Torstein looked at his brother, and then grinned back at him. "It is clear
that Ran does not want us. Maybe we can earn a place in Odin's warband with
you!"
That seemed likely enough, thought Bui, but he took it as yet another sign
from the god.
With two additional pairs of hands and the scavengings from the boat, they
were able to take three more seals and a quantity of fish to carry back to
Bui's hideaway at the edge of the fell. Once more, the ravens followed. Hogni
and Torstein marveled at the birds, and took to calling their rescuer
Hrafn-Bui.
"You are laughing at me, but I will claim in earnest the name you give in
jest," answered Bui. "The ravens are our allies—you will see."
As the days diminished, the weather worsened, but the warm current that flows
past Iceland's shores kept the temperatures on the south coast relatively
mild, and the hot springs warmed the fugitives when they did begin to suffer
from the chill. They were always hungry, but they never starved, and for this,
they thanked Bui's ravens.
As once the birds had followed him, now Bui and his companions followed the
ravens to food. In those days, folk used to leave their herds to winter in the
woods, for there were no predators large enough to trouble a grown animal, and
sometimes the exiles would find a cow or pony that had wandered off in search
of the dry grasses that grew on the fell. They preyed on wintering waterbirds
and, between the frequent gales, on seals. And leading or following, the
ravens hunted with them, just as they did with the polar bears.
During the long hours of darkness the three young men huddled in the light of
the seal-fat lamp and told tales,
"I'll help you for a time on the farm," said Hogni, "but the sea is all I ever
dreamed of."
"My father loved the sea more than he loved my mother and me," answered Bui,
"and it killed him."
Torstein sighed. "You can die anywhere. Our father took a scratch that went
bad. His arm swelled up, and he burned with fever until he died. What glory
was there in that?"
In his voice was a note that Bui recognized.
Both of them, he thought then, had been abandoned by the fathers who should
have protected them.
"Is that what you want? Glory?" he asked.
"Of course. Don't you?"