"Lawrence Watt-Evans - Ethshar 5 - Taking Flight" - читать интересную книгу автора (Watt-Evans Lawrence)

hated to admit it, it looked just about as drab and dreary as his sisters had
always said it was. It wasnt just the family farm that was tedious, as he had
always thought; it was, it now appeared, the entire World.
And he should have guessed that, he told himself, from his previous
expeditions.
The first time he had run away had been the week after his visit to Zindré the
Seer at the village market. He had only been twelve.
That had been rash, and he had been young; Zindré had never implied that he
would begin his journey so young.
Kelder had had reasons, though. His father, determined to keep the family farm
in the family and having let all three of Kelders older sisters arrange to
marry away, had adamantly refused to arrange an apprenticeship or a marriage
for Kelder; Kelder was going to inherit the farm, whether he wanted it or not,
and settling the legacy on him meant no apprenticeship, no arranged marriage.
It had meant that Kelder was expected to spend the rest of his life on that
same piece of ground, seeing nothing of the World, learning nothing of
interest, doing no good for anyone, but only carrying on the family
traditions. That was hardly roaming free and unfettered, as the seer had
promised, or being a champion of the lost and forlorn.
Kelder had notwanted to spend the rest of his life on that same piece of
ground carrying on the family traditions.
So, frustrated and furious, he had left, convinced excitement and adventure
must surely wait just across the ridge. He had wandered off that first time
without so much as a stale biscuit in the way of supplies, and had crossed the
ridge, only to find more dismal little farms much like his own familys.
He had stayed away a single night, but his hunger the following morning had
driven him back to his mothers arms.
The next time he left, when he was thirteen, he had packed a lunch and stuffed
a dozen bits in iron into his belt-purse, and had marched over not just one
ridge, but a dozen or morefour or five miles, at least, and maybe farther. He
had known that soldiers were said to march twenty or thirty miles a day, but
he had been satisfied; he hadnt hurried, had rested often, and the hills had
slowed him down.
And when darkness had come spilling over the sky, he had spent the night
huddled under a haystack. He had continued the following daybut around noon,
when his lunch was long gone and he had still seen nothing but more ridges and
more little farms, he had decided that the time of the prophecys fulfillment
had not yet come, and he had turned back.
The spring after that, at fourteen, he had plotted and planned for a month
before he set out to seek his fortune. He had carried sensible foods, a good
blanket, three copper bits and a dozen iron, and a sharp knife.
He had made it to his intended destination, Shulara Keep, by noon of the
second day, and he had done so without much difficulty. But then, after the
initial thrill of seeing a genuine castle had faded somewhat, and the
excitement of the crowds in the market square had dimmed, he had found himself
unsure what to do next. He had not dared to speak to anyonethey were all
strangers.
Finally, when the castle guard had shooed him out at sunset, he had given up
and again headed home.
At fifteen he had decided to try again. He had again gone to Shulara Keep, and