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

Agreth started at the sudden flare of light, his face suddenly fearful.

‘I’m sorry,’ Andawyr said. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. There’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s just . . .’

‘I know what it is,’ Agreth interrupted. ‘It’s the same power that Oslang knocked Drago down with.
The same power that Oklar used on Vakloss.’ He looked distressed. ‘You saved my life and I feel no
harm in you – nor does my horse, and he’s a far better judge than I am – but Iam afraid of that.’ He
pointed to the stones. ‘It’s terrifying.’

Andawyr stared into the warm comfort of the stones. The sudden tension inside the tent was almost
palpable. Only the truth could ease it, he knew. ‘Yes, you’re right,’ he said after a long silence. ‘It is
terrifying. But not here, not in this tent. Here it’s warmth and light. You don’t need to be told that the
essence of a weapon lies in the intention of the user, do you?’

He looked up at Agreth, his face stern. ‘We’ve hard times ahead of us, Muster rider,’ he said. ‘We must
learn to see things the way they are, with our fear acknowledged, but bound by our judgement. Fear this
power as you would any other weapon; when it’s used against you by your enemies, not when it brings
you aid and comfort in the darkness.’

Agreth was unconvinced. ‘My head accepts what you say, but here . . .’ He patted his stomach and
shook his head. His face contorted unhappily as he searched for an explanation. ‘I don’t understand what
it is,’ he said finally. ‘And how can I defend myself against such a power when it is used as a weapon?’

Andawyr looked into his eyes, and then returned his gaze to the stones. Again, only the truth was safe.
‘You can’t, Agreth,’ he said quietly after another long silence. ‘You can’t. Only I and my brothers can
protect you.’

Agreth stared at the prosaic little man with the squashed nose; the little man who made snowmen in the
middle of nowhere and who was nervous on a horse.

‘Are you enough?’ Agreth said after a brief hesitation.

Andawyr shrugged. ‘Who can say?’ he replied. ‘But that’s a two-edged question. Are you enough in the
Muster to protect us against the swords and arrows of Sumeral’s mortal army, when we’re extended to
our full protecting you against His Power and that of His Uhriel?’

Agreth looked at him intently, then he too shrugged.

Andawyr leaned forward. ‘We’ll all have our separate parts to play,’ he said. ‘And we’ll all be
dependent on one another as well. We must learn each others’ strengths and weaknesses – what we
each can and can’t do – and we must learn to trust where full understanding is not always possible. What
else do we have?’

Agreth nodded pensively and the tension seemed to ease. ‘I suppose you’re right,’ he said. ‘Oslang said
more or less the same.’
 Despite himself, Andawyr chuckled. ‘I should imagine he did,’ he said. ‘A Goraidin’s knife at your
throat could breed great eloquence, I’m sure. Poor Oslang.’

Agreth stared thoughtfully at the radiant stones. ‘It’ll take some getting used to,’ he said. ‘But you are
right. Without your power, we’d be having a very uncomfortable night tonight, even maybe at risk of