"Stephen Lawhead - Dragon King 02 - The Warlords of Nin" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lawhead Stephen)

“Did you feel it too?”
Quentin ignored the question, and they continued on a few more paces.
“Do you think we will ever return to this place?” he asked finally.
“The night is not a time to dwell on such things.”
The two walked silently back to the governor’s palace and made their
way to their rooms. “It will be good to see Askelon again,” said Quentin as
they parted. “And all our friends. Good night.”
“Good night. I will wake you in the morning.”
For a long time Quentin lay on his bed and did not close his eyes. He
heard Toli quietly packing their things in the next room, and the Jher’s soft
footfall as he left to see to the horses before he, too, slept. At last he rolled
over on his side and fell at once to sleep as the moon shone brightly
through his balcony doors, peering in like a kindly face.



TWO
QUENTIN MET Toli in the stables—the grouping of low stone
structures Toli had turned to the purpose of breeding horses. In his time at
Dekra the Jher had become an excellent trainer and breeder of fine horses.
In fact, with the help of Eskevar’s stablemaster, he was developing a
remarkable strain of animals which were a cross between the heavier
warhorses, such as Balder, and lighter, more fleet racing stock which were
the pride of Pelagia. The resulting breed would possess strength and
stamina enough for battle, but would also have the ability to run fast and
far without tiring.
Quentin passed under the wide stone arch and came to stand before
Balder’s stall. The old warhorse whinnied softly when he saw his master
approaching. Quentin held out his hand and patted the horse’s soft muzzle
and stroked the bulging jaw.
“You may stay here this time, old boy. Take care of him, Wilton,” he
called over his shoulder to the youngster who helped Toli. “Give him an
extra carrot now and then.” Then patting the horse’s white-starred
forehead he said, “We will go for a long ride when I come back.”
The stables smelled of sweet fennel and straw and the warm bodies of
the horses. The smell reminded Quentin of traveling, and he reflected that
he was indeed anxious to be off. He crossed to where Toli stood checking
their mounts’ tack and gear.
“Good morning, Kenta. I was just about to come and wake you.”
“As you see I am ready to go; I did not sleep much of the night. Is all
prepared?” He turned to slap a milk-white stallion on the shoulder. “Ho,
there, Blazer! Are you anxious to stretch those long legs of yours?” The
horse tossed its flowing mane and rolled a blue-black eye at Quentin as if
to say, “Away! Let us be gone!”
“I have only to charge Wilton with some final instructions,” remarked
Toli, “then we shall go.”
It amused Quentin that Toli, who considered himself Quentin’s servant-
for-life, was also an object of devotion among the Curatak. The gentle Jher
enjoyed the services of several helpers, whom he treated as well as any
master treated a devoted servant. The simple fact was that Toli was