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

convenient; instead, he lengthened each leg of it, riding on into the morning
until he was too weary to want to go farther, then sleeping on past sunset
until he awoke naturally and fully rested. He did, however, follow the high
road; the plains were still muddy from melted snow and spring rain.
He finally came within sight of Skelleth around noon, but he had been
awake since midnight, so that as far as he was concerned, it was late in the
day and he was ready to rest. He had bought a goat for Koros the previous
morning and eaten well himself, at a small farm he had passed, but he had had
nothing since, save for a handful of dried fruit and salted beef; his
provisions were beginning to run low. He was tired and hungry and looking
forward to cold ale and hot food at the King's Inn, followed by a soft bed in
the house he had rebuilt for himself from the ruins at the edge of town.
The prospect of a good rest, and his lingering good mood, put a smile on
his face. He glanced down at the clockwork gull he kept on the saddle before
him; he had not cared to pack it away where it might be damaged by bumping
against his other belongings. It gleamed golden in the thin, dreary light that
seeped through the thick clouds overhead. The weather had been good throughout
his trip, but he knew that could not last much longer; indeed, the sky looked
very much as if there would be rain before nightfall.
When he glanced up from the metal bird, Garth noticed that something or
someone stood outside the town wall, beside the highway he rode upon. His
smile faded. The last time he had ridden up this highway, someone had been
waiting upon it, an overman named Thord; he had been posted there as part of
an inept siege laid by Garth's chief wife Kyrith, and it had been that siege
which had led to the sacking of Skelleth. Garth did not much care to be
reminded of that.
He wondered whom or what he was seeing; the distance was such that he
could not yet make the figure out. He hoped that, whatever it was, it was not
the harbinger of more trouble.
The thing stood about the height of an overman, Garth judged, or perhaps
an unusually tall human, but the shape seemed slightly wrong. He rode on.
When he had drawn somewhat nearer, he saw that it was, indeed, an
overman, or something very much like one, but slumped forward, and with
something projecting upward at the back of its neck.
Another of the warbeast's long strides allowed Garth to determine that
the overman-if such it truly was was hanging from a post or stake, apparently
lifeless.
Garth was confused; he had no idea what this thing could signify, what
overman could be there, or why. He did not like it. The figure was utterly
lifeless, and Garth wondered whether perhaps it was an effigy of himself, put
there by some enemy, a townsman, perhaps, who had never forgiven him his part
in Skelleth's destruction.
The other possibility, that it was a real overman's corpse hung up as a
warning of some kind, was much less appealing.
He rode closer and began to perceive details. Black hair hung down
limply, hiding the face; the hands were pulled back, out of sight, presumably
tied to the pole or to each other. The figure faced directly toward him. A
blue tunic covered the torso, and brown leather riding breeches the legs, with
mudspattered boots on its feet. There was a disturbing familiarity to it.
The possibility that it was just an effigy grew dimmer with each step