"Roger Taylor - Hawklan 4 - Into Narsindal" - читать интересную книгу автора (Taylor Roger)

Andawyr gave a resigned sigh. ‘Riddinvolk I presume,’ he said and, without waiting for an answer, he
gathered his cloak about himself tightly and, with an ill grace, stepped out into the howling darkness.

Fortunately the horse was nearby, standing at the edge of the circle of light cast by the tent’s beacon
torch. Andawyr suddenly felt his irritation and concern pushed aside by a feeling of humility at the sight of
the animal standing patiently in the snow-streaked light, head bowed against the storm. Few travelled
these mountains at any time, and none would normally be travelling at this time of year, yet, on an impulse
he had lit his beacon torch; and now it had drawn this lone traveller and his mount here and undoubtedly
saved his life.

He struck his hand torch and walked over to the horse, staggering a little as the powerful wind drove
into him. ‘Come on, Muster horse,’ he said, taking the animal’s bridle. ‘It’s a little more sheltered over
here. Your duties are over for the night. I’ll look after your charge.’

The horse looked at him soulfully for a moment, then yielded to the gentle pressure.

Returning to the tent, Andawyr found the new arrival’s concern unchanged. ‘My horse?’ he asked, his
voice still weak.

‘I’ve thrown a couple of your blankets over him and put him in the lee of some rocks,’ Andawyr said.
‘It’s not ideal, but he should be all right. I’ve given him a fodder bag as well.’

The man relaxed visibly and Andawyr shook his head. ‘You people and your horses,’ he said. ‘You’re
incredible. Now let’s have a look at you.’

The man offered no resistance to Andawyr’s examination.

‘You’re lucky,’ Andawyr said when he had finished. ‘There’s no frost damage to your hands and face,
and judging from your boots I presume you can still feel all your toes?’

The man nodded. ‘I should have stopped sooner,’ he said, still weak. ‘I misjudged the storm.’

‘You’re not alone,’ Andawyr said. ‘Luckily you’re only chilled and exhausted, but it’s a good job you
saw my light. You wouldn’t have made it through the night.’ He moved the tray of radiant stones as far
away from the man as he could, then with a flick of his fingers he made them a little brighter. ‘Keep away
from the stones,’ he said. ‘Just lie still and rest. You’ll soon warm up in here, it’s a well-sealed tent: airy
and snug.’

The man nodded again, sleepily. ‘Thank you,’ he mouthed softly. He made an attempt to say something
else but it turned into an incomprehensible mumble as he succumbed to his fatigue.

Andawyr looked at him closely. He was a heavily built man, in late middle age, he judged, and from the
quality of his clothes, wealthy; definitely not a man one might expect to find roaming the mountains,
especially at this time of year.

Nodding to himself thoughtfully, he lay down again. There would be plenty of time tomorrow to find out
who the man was and why he was there.

Another flick of his fingers dimmed the radiant stones to their original redness. No point using the Old
Power too much. He smiled as he caught the almost reflexive thought. The tent would retain the heat, and