"L. E. Modesitt - Recluce 07 - The magic Engineer" - читать интересную книгу автора (Modesitt L E)

VII

THE TALL MAN tethers the horse and locks the brake on the two-seated wagon. The two redheads reach
for their belongings. Shortly, four figures traverse the stone lane that leads gently uphill from
the coastal road. The two redheads bear packs on their shoulders. The two men walk as though they
bear heavier and unseen burdens.
The paved and time-smoothed walk of black stone stretches toward half a dozen black stone
buildings roofed with a gray slate nearly as black as the stone walls. Even the wide windows in
the buildings are framed with dark wood. The grass between the walks and walls and buildings is
dark green, thick, wiry, and short.
The four pass a diamond-shaped garden of blue and silver flowers-set within low walls of the
same black stones. The leaves rustle in the cool fall breeze. In the deep green-blue sky, white
puffy clouds scud westward.
"Where are we going?" asks the sole female, too old to be a girl, too young to be a woman.
' To the black building on the right," responds the tallest figure.
"All the buildings are black."
"Kadara," warns the shorter of the two men.
"This whole place is black."
Dorrin glances from Kadara, who has had the nerve to voice his own feelings, to his father.
"Why is it called the Academy?" He has heard the answer, but knows that Kadara has not, and does
not want Hegl or his father to be critical of her.
Oran's lips quirk before he responds. "Originally, it had no name. It started years ago when a
former Westwind Guard tutored some younger Blacks in self-defense. They paid for the tutoring by
teaching logic and the science of order to what was then the remnant of the Westwind Guard
detachment." Oran pauses, gestures at the building. "The side door, there." He steps forward.
"Someone supposedly called the place the Academy of Useless and Violent Knowledge. It became the
Academy."
They walk up two wide stone steps onto a small covered porch. Kadara tightens her lips, and her
eyes rake over both her father and Oran before coming to rest on Dorrin. Hegl shifts his weight as
he stops.
"Perhaps they can teach me about using a blade," she says mildly.
Oran opens the dark oak door and holds it for the others. The three others remain on the wide
stones of the porch without moving. Finally, Dorrin shrugs and steps inside. A white-haired and
muscular woman a shade shorter than Dorrin appears in the doorway on the far side of a foyer that
measures perhaps seven-cubits on a side.
"Greetings." Her voice is more musical than her stem and ageless face.
Dorrin nods. "Greetings."
"Greetings, magistra," offers Oran.
"I'm still Lortren, you pompous ass," returns the black-clad woman. "You know what I think
about titles between adults."
Oran inclines his head slightly. "This is my son Dorrin, and this is Kadara, the daughter of
Hegl, here."
"Let's go into the study." Lortren turns and steps through the doorway.
Hegl looks quizzically at Oran, who follows Lortren. Dorrin and Kadara follow their parents.
"I might like her," mouths Kadara.
"Maybe." As they step into the next room, Dorrin notes the stacks of freestanding shelves
filled with books-thousands, from what he can tell as they walk down a narrow passageway to the
right of the shelves. Perhaps thirty cubits from the door, the shelves end, and the room opens