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

unspoken concerns greatly. The people apparently held no ill-will towards the Fyordyn who had
inadvertently brought such trouble to their land. Even the chill wind seemed to lose some of its edge.

After they had passed through Perato, Berryn remarked on the absence of young people from the
villages.

‘They must all be with this army of theirs in the mountains. It must be a civilian militia,’ he said. No one
disputed this conclusion and the Rede nodded to himself. ‘I know there aren’t many Orthlundyn,’ he
went on, ‘but if those villages are typical, then they’ve got a big army, and if they’re all in the mountains,
then they’re having to deal with a big problem.’

Arinndier looked at him. It was a valid deduction, but still it made no sense. Who could threaten the
Orthlundyn from the east? The chilling thought occurred to him that while Fyordyn had been looking
towards Vakloss, some army had swept down the Pass of Elewart to overwhelm Riddin and was now
moving against Orthlund prior to attacking Fyorlund’s southern border.

And we sent Sylvriss there!

The panic-stricken thought nearly made him voice his fear, but it was followed immediately by the
memory of the faces of the villagers they had met. These were not the faces of a people facing imminent
destruction at the hands of an army powerful enough to have overcome the Riddin Muster.

Nonetheless, the Rede’s comments had given him a problem that would not be set lightly aside, and at
the next village he asked directly what the army was doing.

The villagers made reassuring noises. ‘Don’t you worry yourself about that, young man,’ came the reply
from a man whom Arinndier judged to be somewhat younger than himself. ‘It’s just a little trouble with
the Alphraan. I’m sure Loman and Memsa Gulda will sort it out soon. Not many things argue with
Memsa Gulda for long.’

This last remark brought some general laughter from the group that had gathered around the new
arrivals, but Arinndier sensed an undertow of concern that was more serious than the levity indicated.

‘Who in the world are the Alphraan?’ he asked his companions as they continued on their way. The
name was vaguely familiar but he had been loath to show his ignorance to the villagers.

Jaldaric was frowning. ‘The only Alphraan I’ve ever heard of are in . . . children’s tales,’ he said
awkwardly. ‘Little people . . . who live underground and . . . sing.’ Rede Berryn and Tel-Mindor both
nodded.

Arinndier looked at them sternly, then his own memory produced the same image from somewhere in his
childhood. He cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps the word means something different down here,’ he said.

Tel-Mindor laughed softly. ‘Perhaps Fyndal’s sent more than one message to the villagers,’ he said
significantly.

The following day the wind had eased, but it was still cold, and the winter chill in the air was
unequivocal. And as if to emphasize this, many of the already snow-capped mountains to the east were
whiter than they had been on the previous day.