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

"I didn't—and I don't believe it." But Paks was already half convinced.
"Where did you get it?"
"It was—my commander gave it to me, after a battle."
"As a reward?"
"Yes."
"Was it part of the loot from Siniava's army?"
"Yes."
"Well, then. He and his captains used magic devices often, so I heard. Perhaps your commander didn't know. It is magic and it is how you controlled Windfoot. You can prove it—call him now, with the ring. Don't say anything, or move, but touch the ring and think that you want him to come."
Paks looked across the meadow to see Windfoot and Star grazing side by side. She clenched her hand around the ring, and thought of Windfoot. She didn't like the idea that a ring—a ring she had received from the Duke—could have such power. She had always liked horses; horses had always liked her. She thought of Windfoot: his speed, his elegance. A quick thudding of hooves made her look up. Windfoot came at a long swinging trot, breaking to a canter. Star followed, her shorter stride syncopating the beats. Windfoot stopped a few feet away, and came forward, ears pricked.
"All right," said Paks quietly, holding up her hand for Windfoot to sniff. Star pushed in and shoved her head in Windfoot's way. "But I didn't call Star—"
"No, she came for company, 1 think. But that is definitely a magic ring, with the power to summon animals. See if you can make Windfoot go away."
Paks wrinkled her brow. It did not seem fair to control Windfoot this way. She flipped her hand, and the horse threw up his head and backed.
"Not that way," said Macenion, annoyed.
"Yes." Paks pushed Star's head away. "Go on, horses! Go eat your own dinners." She stood up. "1 believe you; it's magic. But I don't like the idea."
"You'd rather have the power in yourself?"
"Yes. No—I don't know. It just doesn't feel right, to be able to call and send them like that."
"Humans!" snorted the elf. Paks glared at him, and he modified it. "Non-magicians don't understand magicians, that's all. Why involve right and wrong in it? The ring is magic, it's useful magic, and you should use it."
Paks had had no idea what a mountain pass would be like. Macenion told her that the pass at Valdaire wasn't really a mountain pass at all. Now, as they climbed past the forested slopes to open turf and broken rock, she wondered how, in this jumble of stone, anyone could find the way. It was a gray morning, and she felt the cold even through her travel cloak. Macenion pointed out marking cairns.
"But it's just another pile of rock."
"No, it's not just a pile of rock. It's a particular pile of rock. Look—do you see anything else like that?"
Paks looked. Rocks everywhere, but nothing that tall and narrow. "No."
"Now, look here." He pointed to a smaller pile on one side. "This is the direction."
"What is?"
"This—Paksenarrion, pay attention. The big pile tells you that this is the trail, and the little pile tells you which way is downhill."
"But are we across the pass? Aren't we going uphill?" Then she realized the simple answer, and felt her face burning. "I see," she said quickly, before Macenion could tell her. "I know. We go the other way."
"Yes. And we know it's the right trail because of the runes."
"Runes?"
"Look at this." He lifted the top rock of the small pile and turned it over. On the under fece were angular marks gouged in the rock. "That's the rune for silver, which means that this is the way to Silver Pass."
"Oh." Paks looked around again. "But that only says what's downhill. Can we tell where this will come out?"
"Easily." Macenion's smile was as smug as ever. He turned over the top rock of the big pile and showed her another rune. "This means gnomes, and means that this trail ends at the rock shelter on the border of Gnarrinrulk, die gnome kingdom south of Tsaia."
"I didn't know there was one."
"Gods, yes. And you don't want to wander in there without leave." Macenion replaced the stones carefully. "It's simple, really. The big pile points uphill and has the uphill trailend rune, and the small one points downhill and has the downhill trailend rune. Can you remember that?"
"Yes," said Paks shortly.
"Good. Let's hurry. I don't like the smell of this weather." Macenion looked at die sky above the peaks, which was, as they had often seen from below, thickened into cloud. As if his words had been a signal, a cold rain began to leak down, thin at first. They started upward.
As they climbed, forty paces at a time, Paks watched the stones near the trail darken in the rain. Instead of die rustle of rain on leaves, the water tinkled, as if a thousand thousand tiny bells rang in the stillness. The slopes around them closed in, and the trail became steeper. It was more like a stairway than a trail. When they stopped for rest, Paks looked up. The clouds seemed lower. She looked back down the trail. The cairn had disappeared into a hollow behind and below them. She was surprised at how fer they had climbed.
Macenion shivered beside her. "It's getting colder—we'd better keep climbing. There's no good place to stop until we're over the top."
"You mean, this is the actual pass?"
"Yes—didn't you know? What I'm afraid of is snow—it can snow all year up here. We've been lucky with weather so far, but this rain—and if it gets colder—'
"What if it does?"
"Then we keep going. There are some undercut ledges near the top, but they aren't good shelter. We won't stop if we can possibly make it through."
But as mountain weather changes from minute to minute, so it thickened around them. Rain changed to sleet which coated their cloaks and the horses' packs, and made the trail treacherous. Paks did not even suggest stopping to eat. She fumbled a strip of meat from under her cloak and chewed it as they climbed. Wind began to funnel the sleet, now mixed with snow, down the trail. Macenion showed Paks how to wrap a cloth around her face to keep it from freezing.
All too soon the rocky slopes around them whitened as snow flurried past. They climbed higher, leaving clear tracks that filled quickly behind them. Rocks disappeared under the snow. Macenion had to shout in Paks's ear that he thought the snow had been falling at this height for more than a day. As they came around a shoulder of mountain on their right, the pitch flattened. Paks expected a change to a downhill slope, but instead met a blast of wind that nearly took her off her feet. Macenion, ahead of her, disappeared in a white fog of snow. She stumbled, and forcea her way on, dragging Star behind her.
Paks finally found Macenion by stumbling into him. Windfoot was sideways to the wind, trying to turn. Macenion grabbed her arm and yelled into her ear.
"Paks! We can't go any farther this way. Drifts! Go back!"
"Back!" He pushed her a little, and Paks turned carefully, bracing against the wind. Star had already turned, and Paks followed her back the way they had come. At least, she hoped it was the way, for nothing remained of their tracks. With the wind at her back, shoving her along like a giant hand, she could see a little way. A dark smudge to one side caught her eye; before she could ask, Macenion's arm on her shoulder pushed her that direction. "It's one of those overhangs," he yelled in her ear.
Star and Windfoot shouldered their way to the bade of the shelter and stood, heads down and together, their breath making a cloud in the gloom. Paks swiped the snow off Star's pack and rump, and wiped the pony's face clear. Ice furred her eyelashes and muzzle. Both animals were quivering with cold and exhaustion. Macenion, meanwhile, was doing what he could for Windfoot. When he had the saddle off, he turned to Paks.
"We need to block the ends of this completely," he said. "Snowdrift will help, but we'll have to work hard before we dare rest."
Paks groaned inwardly; she wanted to fell on the ground and sleep. She looked where he pointed. Snow blocked most of the uphill end of the overhang, but some blew in above the drift. Wind roared through the gap, swinging the horses' tails wildly and freezing their sweat.
"Well use the cover off your pack," Macenion went on. "Anchor it with rocks—" He was picking rocks off the floor of the shelter as he spoke. "If we re lucky, we won't have to compress the snow much—that's the hardest work." Paks began wrestling the pack off Star, and tried to unwrap the cover. The knots were frozen, and the rope stiff as iron, but she dared not cut it. She took off her gloves to 6ght with it, and muttered a curse as the rope scraped her fingers raw.
"Here—" said Macenion suddenly. "Let me help with that. Get your gloves on; you don't need frozen hands." Paks sat back. Macenion glared at her and she backed farther away. He moved his body between her and the pack, and said a few words she did not know. When he stepped back, the knots were untied, and the ropes were supple again. Paks shook out the pack cover, and Macenion reached for it.