"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 1 - Lure Of The Basilisk" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

sizes, but he quickly realized that that was impractical and settled on a
single cage big enough for a large cat or small dog, but with a wire mesh so
fine it would hold most insects or spiders. Should his quarry prove to be
larger, he had several ropes and chains of various weights, and a short bolt
of gray cloth which could be used for binding or muzzling. He had determined
to make do with his usual three weapons, axe, sword, and dagger, rather than
weigh himself and his mount down any further with more specialized gear; as
with restraints, he could only hope he was not being sent after a dragon.
 Besides these special preparations, he of course made the usual ones,
checking and refilling his canteen and water-cask, obtaining food that would
not spoil, and making certain that both he and his beast were as well fed and
healthy as he could contrive.
The Forgotten King watched all these preparations in silent amusement,
refusing to offer any advice or assistance other than a repetition of the
original charge and directions for reaching Mormoreth, which were absurdly
simple inasmuch as an old highway ran almost directly thither from Skelleth's
East Gate, requiring only that a traveler know which fork to take at each of
three turnings. He also consumed, at Garth's expense, an amount of food and
wine astonishing for one so old and thin. But prices being what they were in
Skelleth, this did little to deplete the overman's supply of gold.
While these preparations were being made, there was some stir in the
village over a local event that did not strike Garth as being in any way
relevant to himself; a man named Arner had been sentenced to decapitation by
the Baron, who was said to be in an even fouler temper than was customary in
the spring and to be behaving most erratically. When Garth overheard this,
whispered by villagers torn between excitement at the prospect of a public
execution and anger at the harshness of the decision, he shrugged it off as
yet another manifestation of the difference between the cultures of Skelleth
and Ordunin, an event that could only happen among humans. Unfamiliar as he
was with human emotions, he did not notice the resentful glances invariably
cast in his direction when the subject came up. He remained calmly unconcerned
about the entire matter, riding through the village streets and out the gate
unaware of the hate-filled glances he received, most especially from the
Baron's guards, the companions of the doomed man. The hatred of his own kind
was never visible in face or manner, but only in words and actions, so that he
was utterly incapable of seeing the human emotion for what it was. Nor would
he have cared if he did recognize it, for he thought little better of men than
he did of dogs.
His journey was uneventful at first, a peaceful ride down a well-used
highway where the snow had been pounded flat and hard by the feet of farmers
and caravans and was only beginning to show signs of melting into the muddy
slush it would soon become. But with his turning at the first fork, the way
became much worse, as no trade passed along the road to Mormoreth and he was
beyond all but the furthest farms. The road here was buried in largely
untrodden snow, its presence discernible only because of the relatively large
spaces between the struggling trees, the greater-than-elsewhere number of
tracks, both human and animal-the human, as often as not, made by bare feet;
the locals must be either very poor or very barbaric, Garth thought-and the
irregularly spaced milestones, which were often buried, only a mound or small
drift in the even snow cover indicating their presence.