"Karl Edward Wagner - Cold Light" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wagner Karl Edward)

somewhat ironic dignity, for his duties were few in this town of
ghosts, and prestige only a half-hearted echo of tradition. Gavein
regarded Kane without comprehension when he attempted to
explain his wishes to the mayor, but after a moment he seemed to
awaken from his reverie. There are many empty houses, he told
Kane. Take whatever you require—there are palaces or hovels,
as you please. Most of our city has remained untenanted all these
years since the plague, and only ghosts will take issue with your
occupancy. Food you may purchase here at our market, or raise
what you desire. Our needs are few these days, so you may soon
grow tired of our monotonous fare. This tavern furnishes our
amusements, if you feet inclined to such things. Stay with us then
for as long as your spirit desires. Do as you wish, for no man will
pry into your affairs. We are a dying people here in Sebbei. Our
visitors are rare and few stay for long. Our thoughts and manner
are our own, and we care not what chance brings you among us.
It is our wish only to be left alone with our thoughts. We in turn
leave you with yours. And Gavein tugged the worn folds of his
cloak closer about his thin shoulders and returned to his dreams.
So Kane wandered through the deserted streets of Sebbei,
watched by only an occasional pair of clouded eyes from the few
inhabited dwellings. At length he took residence in an old
merchant's villa, where the rich furnishings appealed to his taste
for luxury, and whose neglected gardens along a small lake
promised solace to his anguished spirit.
But he lived there not alone, for often there came to him a
strange girl named Rehhaile, whom many called a sorceress. Only
Rehhaile among those of Sebbei showed more than distracted
aloofness to the stranger who had stopped in their city. An
outsider herself, Rehhaile spent long hours in Kane's company,
and she ministered to him in many ways.
Thus came Kane to Sebbei in Demornte. Demornte where
death has lain, and life will not linger.




II. Death Returns to Demornte
Death came again to Demornte. Nine gaunt horses beat their
hooves with hollow echo through the silent streets of Demornte,
past the overgrown fields, past the empty, staring houses, past the
mocking smiles of skeletons. Death had returned to Demornte
flying varied standards—idealism, sadism, duty, vengeance,
adventure. New banners, but it was death that marched beneath
them, and the omniscient eyes of the deserted houses, of the
laughing skulls recognized death and welcomed it home.
 Only nine men. Many had started, seasoned mercenaries hired
with Gaethaa's wealth, adventurers drawn by the boldness of the
mission, men of hate with festered scores to settle with Kane. But
the way had been hard, and some had fallen on the trail, others