"David Eddings. Castle of wizardry enchanters' end game (The Belgariad, Part two)" - читать интересную книгу автора

walls of the room had a large crack in it, and part of the ceiling had
collapsed as a result of the earthquake that had convulsed Rak Cthol.
Eight of the evil old men looked surprised and frightened; the ninth one
had fainted. The darkness surrounding Aunt Pol disappeared.
"What are they doing?" Silk asked him.
"They're trying to break through Aunt Pol's shield," Garion replied. "I
gave them something to think about." He felt a little smug about it.
Silk looked at him, his eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Don't overdo things,
Garion," he advised.
"Somebody had to do something," Garion protested.
"That's usually the way it works out. All I'm saying is that you
shouldn't lose your perspective."
The broken wall of peaks that marked the western edge of the waste land
was clearly visible as the light began to creep up the eastern sky. "How
far would you say it is?" Garion asked Durnik.
The smith squinted at the mountains ahead. "Two or three leagues at
least," he judged. "Distances are deceiving in this kind of light."
"Well?" Barak asked. "Do we take cover for the day here or do we make a
run for it?"
Garion thought about that. "Are we going to change direction as soon as
we get to the mountains?" he asked Mandorallen.
"It would seem better mayhap to continue our present course for some
little distance first," the knight replied thoughtfully. "A natural
boundary such as that which lies ahead might attract more than passing
scrutiny."
"That's a good point," Silk agreed.
Garion scratched at his cheek, noticing that his whiskers had begun to
sprout again. "Maybe we should stop here then," he suggested. "We could
start out again when the sun goes down, get up into the mountains a way
and then rest. When the sun comes up tomorrow morning, we can change our
route. That way, we'll have light enough to see any tracks we leave and
cover them up."
"Seems like a good plan," Barak approved.
"Let's do it that way then," Garion decided.
They sought out another ridge and another ravine, and once again
concealed it with their tent canvas. Although he was tired, Garion was
reluctant to lose himself in sleep. Not only did the cares of leadership
press heavily on him, but he also felt apprehensive about the possibility
of an attack by the Hierarchs coming while he was asleep. As the others
began to unroll their blankets, he walked about rather aimlessly, stopping
to look at Aunt Pol, who sat with her back against a large rock, holding
the sleeping Errand and looking as distant as the moon behind her
shimmering shield. Garion sighed and went on down to the mouth of the
ravine where Durnik was attending to the horses. It had occurred to him
that all their lives depended on the well-being of their mounts, and that
gave him something else to worry about.
"How are they?" he asked Durnik as he approached.
"They're bearing up fairly well," Durnik replied. "They've come a long
way, though, and it's beginning to show on some of them."
"Is there anything we can do for them?"