"Moon, Elizabeth - Deed Of Paksenarrion - 02 - Divided Allegiance V1" - читать интересную книгу автора (Moon Elizabeth)

In die darkness the first elf mistook her snow-covered body for a drift of snow, and stumbled over it. His muffled curse disturbed the pony, huddled in a thicket nearby, and she snorted.
Quickly die next elves found die pony and soothed her, whisking die snow from her back and running deft hands over rhe pack straps. Meanwhile die first elf felt what was under the drift, and called for more light. Torches flared in die windy darkness.
"A human." Contempt laced the silver voice.
"A robber by die look of it—her," said another, holding out die patched cloak.
"Robber indeed," said one of die elves near Star. "Tnis Htde one is loaded with such treasure that she can hardly walk. And more than that, it comes from die banast taig.'
"Mother of Trees! I had not thought even die humans bold enough to rob there. Or skilled enough to escape." The leader of the group looked at a dagger and sheath from die pack and shook his head. "With such to carry, it must not DC escape, but something worse."
"She is alive," said the first elf, after finding a pulse.
"Not for long," said the leader. "We may not be able to challenge that evil, but we can deal with its minions. We can leave—"
"Look at this," said one of those going through the pack. He held out to the leader the sealed message from the Halveric. "Is this stolen as well?"
"We must know what we have here, before we decide what to do," added the one at Pak's side. "I feel no great evil in her." He had brushed the snow off her, and now caught his breath as he saw the rings on her hand. He worked off the one with the Duke's seal, and read the inscription inside. "This is no common robber, cousins. Here is a ring given for honor to a soldier of the Duke Phelan—Halveric's friend, and—"
"And we all know of Kieri Phelan. Yes. If she did not steal that as well. We shall wake her, then, and see what she says. I doubt that any fair tale can be told resulting in such a one bringing treasure out of the banast taig. But we shall see."
Pales was vaguely aware of voices talking over her head before she woke fully. They were strange-sounding voices, musical and light but carrying power nonetheless. Light glowed through her eyelids. She struggled toward it, and finally managed to raise her heavy lids.
"You waken at last," said one of the strange beings before her. He turned to speak to another, and Paks saw torchlight play over the planes of his face. It was clearly unhuman, and in it she saw full strength the strangeness that Macenion had shared. These must be elves. He looked back at her, his expression unreadable. "You were very cold. Can you speak now?"
Paks worked her jaw around, and finally managed to say yes, weakly.
"Very well. We have many questions for you, human warrior. It would be well for you to answer truthfully. Do you understand?"
"Who—are you?" Paks had no idea of elven politics, if any.
"Do you not know elves, human, when you see them?"
"I thought—elves—but who?"
Arched eyebrows rode up his forehead. "Do humans now concern themselves with the genealogy of elves, having so little themselves? If you would know, then, I am of the family of Sialinn—do you know what that means?" Paks shook her head. "Then you need know no more of my family. Who are you, and what lineage gives you the right to question elves?"
Paks remembered now Macenion's pride, and how Bosk had always said elves were haughty and difficult.
"I am Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter," she began. "Of Three Firs, far to die north and west—"
"Far indeed," said one of the other elves. "I have seen that place, though not for many years. Is there a birch wood, a day's ride west of it, in the side of a hill?"
"I don't know, sir; I never traveled so far before leaving to join the Duke's Company. Since then, I have never been home, or near it."
"Whose company was this you joined?"
"Duke Phelan s. He has a stronghold in northern Tsaia, and fights in Aarenis."
"A red-haired man?" Pals nodded, and the elf went on. "This packet sealed by the Halveric, in your baggage: how came you by that?"
"1 was given it, by the Halveric, to take to his home." Even as she spoke, Paks felt the cold darkness rolling over her again. One of the elves exclaimed, and she felt an aim under her shoulders. A cold rim touched her tips, and fiery liquid trickled into her mouth. She swallowed. Warmth edged its way along her bones.
Not too much of that," said the first elf who had spoken to her. "In case we must—" He broke off and looked at her again. "You have come to a strange place, soldier of Duke Phelan and messenger of the Halveric. You have come to a strange place, anoyou seem—forgive me—weaker than I would expect such a soldier to be. Give us now an account of how you came here, and what you were doing in the valley of the banast taig."
Paks found it difficult to tell a coherent story. Events and places were tangled in her memory, so that she was hard put to distinguish the encounters of the last day or so from those in the past. Still she managed to convey the call she and Macenion had received, and the outline of their adventures undergound. The elves listened attentively, interrupting only to ask for clarification. When she finished, they looked at each other in silence. Then a burst of elven; it sounded to her like an argument. The leader turned to her again.
"Well, Paksenarrion Dorthansdotter, you have told an unlikely tale, to be sure. Yet on the chance that it is true, I am sending one of my party into the banast taig to find out. Should he not return, or return in jeopardy, it will go hard with you."
In the snowy darkness, Paks could not tell how long the elf was gone. She lapsed into a doze, hardly aware of her surroundings. She was roused by a hand on her shoulder.
"Awake, warrior. You will need this—" and a hot mug pressed against her lips. She swallowed, still half asleep, and found the taste strange but pleasant. Slowly her drifting mind came back to her. She tried to sit up on her own, but was still too weak. The elves had pitched a shelter over her, and a tiny fire flickered in one corner, under a pot.
"You still need healing," said the elf leader. "I admit surprise, Paksenarrion. I would not have believed such a thing without proof. The banast taig freed to be the elfane taig again, and the pollution gone from its heart! We rejoice to know that. But you have taken more damage from that combat than you know: humans cannot fight evil of that power unscathed. Without healing, you would die before daylight."
Paks could not think what to say. She felt weak, and a little sick, but no worse than that. As the elf seemed waiting for something, she finally asked. "Was—did you find out about Macenion?"
"Macenion!" It was very nearly a snort. "That one! The elfane taig buried him cleanly with his orcish murderers; he is well enough."
"But he was an elf—half-elf, I meant. I thought you would—"
"Macenion a half-elf? Did he tell you that?" Paks nodded, and the elf leader frowned. "No, little one, he was not hatf-elven—not a quarter elven, either. He had so much elvish as might your pack pony have of racing blood."
"But he said—" Paks broke off. It was hard to talk, and she realized that Macenion's behavior made more sense the less elven he was.
"He lied. What did he tell you, Paksenarrion, to get you into that valley?"
"That—his elven cousins—denied him his rights to elvish things. That he knew of—treasure there—that should be his."
"Did he not warn you of evil at all?"
"Yes—but he said his magical talents could fight that; he needed a warrior for protection against—physical things. Like the ores."
"I see that you speak truly. I apologize, Paksenarrion, for the untruth of this distant cousin; it shames me that any elven blood could lie so."
"That's—all right." Paks felt as if she were slipping down a long dark slope.
"No! By the gods of men and elves, we shall redeem the word of our cousin." And the elf shook her again, lifting her up until she could drink from a cup one of the others held. The darkness crept back. The elven faces came back into focus. Then one of them laid his hand on her head, and began to sing. She had never heard anything like that, and in trying to follow the song she forgot what was happening. Suddenly she felt a wave of strength and health surge through her. The elf removed his hand, and smiled at her.
"Is that better now?"
"Yes—much better." Paks sat up, and stretched. She felt well and rested, better than she'd felt in days.
"Good. It will be day, soon, and we must be going. We have much to say to you in the few hours left us."
The snow had stopped before dawn. A light wind tore the last clouds to shreds and let the first sunlight glitter on the snowy ground. In daylight the elves bade her farewell, and Paks saw their beauty clearly. She felt ashamed to have thought Macenion elvish-looking. One of them caught her thought, and laughed, the sound chiming down the long slope.
"No——don't be sorry, fair warrior. Your eyes saw truly, to find what was there in so little. Remember what we have told you, and fere well."