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

Watching him, Agreth’s uncertainty returned. This was the man that Oslang called his leader? What was
he doing?

Finally, Andawyr bent down, made a snowball, placed it carefully on top of his handiwork and stood
back to admire the result – a tiny snowman.

‘There,’ he said, beaming. ‘Isn’t that splendid?’ He saluted the small figure. ‘Enjoy the view little fellow.
Enjoy the peace and quiet. No one will disturb you when we’ve gone. Have a happy winter. Light be
with you.’

Brushing the caked snow from his arms, he turned to Agreth who was struggling to keep his doubts from
his face. Andawyr laughed. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’m still here. But the day I can’t appreciate being
eight years old, will be a sad one for me.’

Then he was off again, as briskly as the snow would allow. ‘Come on,’ he shouted over his shoulder.
‘We’ve a long way to go yet.’

Agreth patted his horse hesitantly, as if for reassurance, then set off after him.

Later in the day, the snow stopped falling and the sky lightened a little, bringing more distant peaks into
view, which Andawyr dutifully identified for Agreth on his map. They walked on slowly and carefully,
sometimes talking, sometimes in silence, sometimes just concentrating where they were putting their feet
as they negotiated steep and treacherous slopes.

As they walked, however, they moved gradually downwards, away from the colder heights, and the
snow became less deep. Eventually, reaching the valley floor, Agreth announced that they could ride for a
spell, and Andawyr found himself astride the horse in front of the Muster rider.

‘Feel like an eight-year-old again?’ Agreth asked, laughing.

Andawyr looked down nervously at the snow-covered ground passing underneath his dangling feet. It
was much further below than he had imagined when he had been looking up at the horse. ‘It’ll take me a
little time,’ he said dubiously.

Agreth laughed again.

Being able to ride from time to time enabled them to make good progress, and late in the afternoon
Andawyr professed himself well pleased. Towards nightfall, however, the snow started to fall again, and
the wind rose suddenly, obliging the two men to make their camp in some haste. As they pitched
Andawyr’s tent, the landscape around them slowly began to disappear in a whirling haze.

At last, Andawyr ushered Agreth into the tent and then struck the beacon torch with some relish. As he
joined him inside he found that the Muster rider was examining one of the radiant stones.
‘Thesehave been baked, without a doubt,’ he said in a tone of irritated regret, throwing the stone back
with the others. ‘You should have a word with whoever does your buying.’

‘I will,’ Andawyr replied, a little more tersely than he had intended, then without hesitation he ignited the
stones as he had the previous night.