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

“We are grateful for your kindness,” said Quentin as they all moved off
together.
They passed the simple dwellings which crowded one another all along
the path right down to the water’s edge. Quentin saw an occasional
fleeting face at a window or peering from a doorway, but by the time they
reached the great wooden pier which served as wharf for the town’s
fishing boats, most of Malmarby’s citizens were going about their
business as though nothing unusual happened. Many followed them down
to the pier, and many more hailed the regal travelers as they passed.
The boats of Malmarby were broad, boxy things—sturdy enough to
withstand the anger of the harshest seas, which they never faced, since the
bulky boats served but to ply the sheltered inlet from one end to the other
along its length.
Milan’s boat was more than adequate for their need, though the horses
showed some trepidation at being led aboard such a strange-looking
vessel.
With Milan’s son, Rol, at the long stern oar, they waved themselves
away from the throng on the pier. Rol’s strong hands worked the oar, and
soon they had entered a deeper channel where a swift current pulled them
along. They raised the small sail on its stubby mast and drifted smartly
away.
“Where do you wish to land, my Lords?” called Rol from his seat at the
tiller.
“Anywhere you think best, as long as it is west of the Wall” Quentin
paused and regarded the hardy youth with his strong shoulders and thick
thatch of brown hair. He remembered when the good-natured young man
had been a skinny little boy who ran alongside the horses whenever a
traveler passed through the village—such as Quentin and Toli often had
occasion to do.
“What is it the village fears?” asked Quentin, stepping close to Rol.
“What has come to pass since we have last come this way?”
The young man shrugged a muscled shoulder and continued working the
oar. “I do not know. Stories, that is all. It does not take much to frighten
such a small village.”
“What are these stories you speak of? Where do they come from?”
Toli stepped in to hear what Rol had to say.
“This spring some people came to us out of the Suthlands saying they
had been set upon by demons and their homes burned.”
“Demons do not burn homes,” remarked Toli.
Again the tentative shrug. “I do not know if they do or no; that is what
the people said.”
“Hmmmm... that is strange. Did they say what these demons looked
like?”
“They were giants. Fierce. Fire spewed from their mouths, and each one
had ten arms with claws for hands.”
“Where did these demons come from? Did they say?”
“No one knew. Some said they came from beyond the sea. From beyond
Gerfallon. Others said they saw the sign of the Wolf Star on their
foreheads. Maybe they came down from the sky.”
“This is an odd tale,” said Quentin to Toli as they drew aside.