"Andre Norton - WW - Estcarp Cycle 04 - Warlock of the Witch World" - читать интересную книгу автора (Norton Andre)

new war. But this time we must fight or be utterly ground
into powder between the millstones of the Dark.

Now came an in-gathering of all who were of the light,
that we might plan against aroused evil. Ethutur had called
this Council and we sat there, a strange mixture of peoples
—or should I say, living creatures; for some in that assembly
were not men at all—neither were they beasts.

Ethutur spoke for the Green People. To his right was a
Renthan, who could and did bear men on occasion on his
back, yet spoke with a voice when there was need, and
captained a band of wily fighters—and that was Shapurn.
On a large rock squatted a jewel-scaled lizard who used its
front feet as hands and now fingered in its claws a cord
on which were knotted at irregular intervals silver beads,
as if these were reminders of points to be made in any
discussion.

Beyond the lizard's rock was a helmed man whose like
I had seen many times, and to his right and left sat a
man and woman in stately cloaks-of-ceremony. This was
Lord Hervon, who had come from the holding Kyllan had
found in the hills, the Lady Christwitha, and his Leader-
of-forces, Godgar. Then there were Kyllan and Kaththea
and Dahaun. Perched on another rock—thus giving him more
presence in a company which towered above him physi-
cally—was Farfar the Flannan, with feathered, human shaped
body, spreading bird wings, clawed feet. The Flannan was
there for reasons of prestige only, since his people lacked
the concentration to be reckoned among a fighting force,
although they made good messengers.

On the other side were the newcomers. There was another
bird-like form, but it had the head of a lizard, narrow,
toothed of jaw, covered with red scales which glittered in
the sun, in bright contrast to its blue-gray feathers. From ,
time to time it spread its wings uneasily, darting the head
from side to side, eyeing the company with sharp measure-
ment. This was a Vrang from the Heights and Dahaun
had greeted it with ceremony as "Vorlong, the Wing Beat-
er."

Beyond that strange ally was more human appearing
company, four of them. These were, we had been told
before their arrival, descendants of the Old Race who had
fled long ago into the hills and managed there to exist
and carve out some small pockets of safety. Chief among them
was a tall man with the dark, familiar features of the true
blood. He had the seeming of a young man, but that could