"Patricia C. Wrede - Stronger Than Time" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wrede Patricia C)

hair was evidence of mere age and not infirmity.
"A traveler," the man said softly without moving. His voice was
tired, bone tired, and Arven wondered suddenly whether he was
older than he appeared. Twilight could be more than kind to a man
or woman approaching middle age; Arven had known those who
could pass, at twilight, for ten or fifteen fewer years than what the
midwife attested to.
"Why are you here?" Arven demanded. "The road to Prenshow is six
miles to the east. There's nothing to bring a traveler up on this
mountain."
"Except the keep," said the man in the same soft tone.
Arven took an involuntary step backward, raising his ax as if to ward
off a threat. "I have nothing to do with the keep. Go back where you
came from. Leave honest men to their work and the keep to
crumble."
The man climbed slowly to his feet. "Please," he said, his voice full
of desperation. "Please, listen to me. Don't send me away. You're the
only one left."
No, I was mistaken, Arven thought. He's no more than twenty,
whatever the shadows hint. Such intensity belongs only to the young.
"What do you mean?"
"No one else will talk about the keep. I need—I need to know more
about it. You live on the mountain; the keep is less than half a mile
away. Surely you can tell me something."
"I can only tell you to stay away from it, lad." Arven set his ax
against the wall and looked at the youth, who was now a grey blur in
the deepening shadows. "It's a cursed place."
"I know." The words were almost too faint to catch, even in the

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evening stillness. "I've… studied the subject. Someone has to break
the curse, or it will go on and on and… Tell me about the keep.
Please. You're the only one who might help me."
Arven shook his head. "I won't help you kill yourself. Didn't your
studies teach you about the men who've died up there? The briars are
full of bones. Don't add yours to the collection."
The youth raised his chin. "They all went alone, didn't they? Alone,
and in daylight, and so the thorns killed them. I know better than
that."
"You want to go up to the keep at night?" A chill ran down Arven's
spine, and he stared into the darkness, willing his eyes to penetrate it
and show him the expression on the other's face.
"At night, with you. It's the only way left to break the curse."
"You're mad." But something stirred within Arven, a longing for
adventure he had thought buried with Una and the worn-out rags of
the embroidered linen shirt he had worn on their wedding day. The
image of the keep, shining golden in the autumn sun, rose