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

the stones, baked or not, would take back any excess and mature a little.

‘I’ll keep out of sight until we’re sure of this one,’ came Dar-volci’s deep voice softly. Andawyr
muttered his approval, then allowed himself a brief smugness as he closed his eyes; it had been a good
day.

The next morning he was wakened by a gentle shaking. He sat up jerkily, scratching himself and
yawning. His guest was holding a bowl of food out to him.

‘I took the liberty of making some breakfast for you,’ he said. His voice was quite deep, and rich with
the sing-song Riddin lilt. ‘It’s from my own supplies,’ he added hastily.

Andawyr squeezed the remains of his broken nose. ‘Thank you very much,’ he said. ‘That was kind of
you. I’m afraid it’s a meal I’m apt to neglect.’

‘No, no,’ the stranger said. ‘It’s I who must thank you for looking after my horse and taking me in.’

Andawyr smiled behind his bowl and paused. Typical Riddinvolk, he thought. Horse first, rider second.
Without asking, he knew that the man would have been out to check on the animal before attending to his
own needs.

The man misunderstood Andawyr’s hesitation. ‘Is the food not warm enough?’ he asked, his voice
concerned. ‘I had a little difficulty with your stones; they’re not very good, I’m afraid. They look as if
they’ve been baked to me.’

Andawyr shot the stones an evil glance then returned to his guest. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘The stones could be
better – bad bargain I’m afraid. But the food’s fine.’

‘My name’s Agreth,’ the man said, sitting down heavily and extending his hand. ‘Don’t do the travelling I
used to,’ he added, then flicking a thumb upwards, ‘This lot wouldn’t have caught me out once.
Judgement’s going, I’m afraid,’ he added.

‘I’m not so sure,’ Andawyr said. ‘It’s unseasonal to say the least, and it came on very suddenly.’ His
face became intent.

‘Agreth?’ he said, testing the name until its familiarity brought it into place. ‘You’re one of Ffyrst
Urthryn’s advisers aren’t you?’ He was about to name Agreth’s House and Decmill by way of a brief
cadenza, but he remembered in time that the Riddinvolk enthusiasm for lineage and family was not
something to be lightly released, and he held his tongue.

Agreth smiled. ‘Indeed I am,’ he said. ‘Though when he finds out I nearly froze to death like some
apprentice stable lad, he might be looking elsewhere for advice.’
 Andawyr laughed and, laying his bowl down, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘And what’s
one of the Ffyrst’s advisers doing alone in the middle of the mountains, halfway to Orthlund, if I might
ask?’ he asked jovially. ‘Morlider come back again?’

He noted the flicker of reaction in Agreth, though it barely reached the man’s eyes before he had it under
control. ‘No, no,’ the man replied, with a hint of surprised amusement. ‘Just some private business in
Orthlund.’