"Ann Maxwell - Concord 3 - Name of a Shadow" - читать интересную книгу автора (Maxwell Ann)

“Yes, Sharnn. It’s one of the few things I am sure of about that accursed planet.”
“Why is the song forbidden?”
“I don’t know,” snapped Kayle. Then, less harshly, “I once asked a Malian.” Kayle flipped back the
sleeve of his robe to reveal a long scar down his forearm. “F’n’een almost killed me. I never mentioned
the song again.”
“But not out of fear,” said Ryth, looking at the Nendleti with an intensity that should have been
frightening. “You respected the Malian F’n’een, in spite of your hatred for Malians as a race. Perhaps
you even loved her.”
“The Carifil told you more than I would have.”
“No one told me anything. Except where to find you.”
“Am I that easy for you to read?” said Kayle, sparks of anger leaping deep within his eyes.
“Easy? Not at all. But she was Malian, and an aristocrat.”
“She was F’n’een,” said Kayle simply, as though no other explanation was required. “But that
doesn’t help you, does it?” Kayle made an abrupt gesture. “Just what is it that you want, pattern-man?”
“Maran’s Song.”
“Why?”
“A Sharnn game. I doubt if you would understand it. I don’t.”
“Teach me.”
Ryth’s green gaze turned inward, and when he spoke, it was in the tones of a man choosing words
from a language that was impossibly limited.
“I might have ... lost ... something. If I did, it probably can be discovered on Malia.” Ryth hesitated,
then shrugged, a muscular movement of his torso that made his cape ripple like water. “Until I know just
what I’ve lost—if I’ve lost anything at all—I can’t explain more clearly.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, pattern-man.”
The edge of Ryth’s cape lifted restlessly, moving over itself with a sound like silk rubbing over amber.
“My pattern instinct works best when I’m not personally involved,” said Ryth. “But I am involved in
this ... game.”
Kayle smiled, showing two rows of small, bright teeth. “You’re human, then. I’m relieved.”
Ryth smiled ironically. “The Carifil said the same thing. Then they told me what they knew about
Malia and Malians. It wasn’t enough.”
“For what?”
“For a Sharnn conception.”
Kayle made a frustrated noise. “The more you talk, the less you say.” He stared narrowly at the
supple man whose cape still moved restlessly, “Can you prove that you’re more than a mouthful of
baffling phrases?”
“Yes—if you let me go to Malia.”
“You know that Malia is under secondary proscription?”
“Yes.”
“You know that primary will begin in no less than seven Centrex days and could begin sooner,
without warning?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll risk your life for a Sharnn game—a concept?”
“What are Carifil and Concord if not aspects of a concept?” countered Ryth.
Kayle looked at Ryth for a long moment. Both men were so still that the sound of Ryth’s restive
Sharnn cape seemed loud in the room.
“You irritate me, Sharnn,” Kayle said finally. “But not enough to let you die. I can’t recommend
opening Malia to you. The Carifil can’t play a game where neither the rules nor the stakes are known to
us.”
“If,” said Ryth slowly, “I told you that I could lead you to a finder whose gift was not limited by time
or space, would that be a stake worth Carifil risk?”