"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Dus 4 - Book of Silence" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

the slope. The shrine itself was an open pavilion, ringed with pillars that
supported its spiraling cone of a roof; it faced onto a small plaza, from
which five roads led off in various directions. A handful of small, tidy,
thatchroofed cottages stood on each of the roads, and a larger structure that
might have been an inn, with a roof of red tile, occupied one corner.
The plaza was paved with tessellated stone, and a small fountain played
in its center. As Garth's warbeast neared the pavement, a breeze tinkled its
way through miniature bells that hung from the eaves of the temple, joining
the hiss and splash of the fountain and the soft steps of sandaled feet.
The villagers stopped and stared at Garth's approach, and the footsteps
ceased. Then someone turned and ran for the inn, and the streets cleared
almost instantly.
Garth found himself alone in the center of the square, looking about at
the five roads with no idea which one he should take. It was time, he decided,
to ask for directions. Getting himself and his beast a meal wouldn't be a
mistake, either, he thought. Koros was already drinking from the fountain,
which reminded Garth that he, too, was thirsty.
He dismounted and stepped up to the fountain, where he filled his hands
with water and drank.
A sound behind him caught his attention; he let the rest of the water
drop and whirled, his hand falling automatically to the hilt of his sword.
The door of the inn had opened again, and several people were emerging.
A white-haired man stepped forward from the group and addressed him.
"Greetings, my lord overman!"
"Greetings, man." This human, Garth thought, unlike the one he had met
on the road to the village, at least had the grace to speak politely.
"My I ask, my lord, what brings you to our humble village?" The man's
manner was almost fawning.
"I have come to slay your dragon, to save you from its depredations,"
Garth replied, making an effort to sound casual.
 The spokesman hesitated, then said, "My lord, do not think us
ungrateful, but we ask that you turn back. We do not wish to see another great
man...ah, I mean, another great warrior such as yourself die fighting the
monster. Too many have perished already."
"I have no intention of dying, man."
"Do you suppose that any of the dragon's victims did? Please, my lord,
turn back. You can do nothing for us. You would only throw your life away."
Garth was becoming annoyed by this manifest lack of faith in his
prowess. "My life is my own, to throw away should it please me to do so," he
said. "I have come to fight your dragon and I am not to be turned aside so
readily, frightened by mere words."
The spokesman bowed in acknowledgment of Garth's words, but said, "We do
not seek to frighten you, my lord, only to advise you. It would be foolish to
waste your life in battling the monster."
Garth's temper, already frayed, gave way. "You are the fools," he
called, "to refuse a chance of freedom from this menace! I am Garth, Prince of
Ordunin, Lord of the Overmen of the Northern Waste, who brought the White
Death to the black city of Dûsarra, who stole the sword of a god, who has
fought the beasts of Death himself! I have come here to slay the dragon and I
will have no one tell me that I must not!" He realized, as he finished his