"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 05 - The Towers of the Sunset" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

his skin.
"Creslin, is the sword-"
Beside Galen is the young herald who had escorted Creslin and the Marshall the evening before.
"I feel undressed without it. Wearing this . . . bordello outfit is bad enough. Besides, it's
not in a battle harness." Creslin turns toward the boy. "Is there any reason why I can't walk
through the formal garden there?"
"Many of the ... men of your situation do, your grace."
"A diplomatic answer, young man. Well, there's no one there anyway. Lead on." Creslin ignores
the fretful look on Galen's face and opens the door to the hallway. Clunk. He has not meant to
shut the heavy oak door so firmly, but the hinges are well oiled.
For the first dozen steps, neither Creslin nor the herald speak. At last the youth asks, "Is it
true that you wear battle leathers, your grace?"
Creslin laughs softly. "I wear leathers, but so does everyone in Westwind. You'd freeze in
silks like these. Our summers are colder than your winters."
"But how do you grow crops?"
"We don't. We have some mountain-sheep herds for milk, cheese, and meat. We trade for the rest.
We pay for it by maintaining the western trade roads clear of bandits, and-"
"-and hiring out to the western powers?" asks the boy. "Are the guards as good as the Tyrant
says?"
"Probably," admits Creslin, as he follows the herald down the wide stone steps. "But I don't
know what the Tyrant said about them."
"She said that even the wizards of Fairhaven could not stand against them."
"I don't know about that. Wizards don't like cold steel, but the eastern wizards are supposed
to be able to split mountains."
"Each year they move a little closer, they say."
Creslin shrugs. The affairs of a kingdom ruled by wizards on the eastern side of the Easthorns-
two mountain ranges east of the Roof of the World-scarcely seem urgent. "Is this the entrance to
the gardens?"
"This is the east door. There's another door from the men's quarters."
"The men's quarters?" Creslin steps onto the white gravel path. The shadow that has darkened
the garden lifts as a small white cloud drifts away, revealing the white-gold sun, and as the blue-
green of the sky brightens like a fire emerald.
"You know, where the unattached consorts and the other . . . male guests ..."
Creslin raises his eyebrows. "Hostages for good behavior? Sons of suspect houses?"
The herald looks down at the fine and polished white pebbles.
"Never mind. Tell me about the garden."
"It's nearly as old as the palace. The tales say the second Tyrant built it in memory of her
consort. That was Aldron, the last consort to ride in battle. He was killed at Berlitos when the
Tyrant crushed the Jerans."
"Jera is southern Sarronnyn now, isn't it?"
"Yes, your grace. Very loyal. This maze is sculpted from just one creeping tarnitz."
"Just one?"
"That's right. If you look down, you can see how the roots intertwine."
Creslin kneels to study the base of the tarnitz.
"Very clever gardening. We couldn't do this sort of thing at West wind."
"Oh?"
Creslin laughs briefly. "Only the evergreens grow there, and not well. Show me some more of the
garden."
The herald leads Creslin around a series of turns through the maze until they emerge near the