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

"NO REGRETS?" SILK asked Garion that evening as they rode toward the
sharply rising peaks outlined against the glittering stars ahead.
"Regrets about what?"
"Giving up command." Silk had been watching him curiously ever since
the setting sun had signalled the resumption of their journey.
"No," Garion replied, not quite sure what the little man meant. "Why
should there be?"
"It's a very important thing for a man to learn about himself, Garion,"
Silk told him seriously. "Power can be very sweet for some men, and you
never know how a man's going to handle it until you give him the chance to
try."
"I don't know why you went to all the trouble. It's not too likely that
I'm going to be put in charge of things very often."
"You never know, Garion. You never know."
They rode on across the barren black sands of the wasteland toward the
mountains looming ahead. The quarter moon rose behind them, and its light
was cold and white. Near the edge of the wasteland there were a few
scrubby thornbushes huddling low to the sand and silvered with frost. It
was an hour or so before midnight when they finally reached rocky ground,
and the hooves of their horses clattered sharply as they climbed up out of
the sandy waste. When they topped the first ridge, they stopped to look
back. The dark expanse of the wasteland behind them was dotted with the
watch fires of the Murgos, and far back along their trail they saw moving
torches.
"I was starting to worry about that," Silk said to Belgarath, "but it
looks as if they found our trail after all."
"Let's hope they don't lose it again," the old man replied. "Not too
likely, really. I made it pretty obvious."
"Murgos can be a bit undependable sometimes." Belgarath seemed to have
recovered almost completely, but Garion noted a weary slump to his
shoulders and was glad that they did not plan to ride all night.
The mountains into which they rode were as arid and rocky as the ones
lying to the north had been. There were looming cliffs and patches of
alkali on the ground and a bitingly cold wind that seemed to wail
endlessly through the rocks and to tug at the coarse-woven Murgo robes
that disguised them. They pushed on until they were well into the
mountains; then, several hours before dawn, they stopped to rest and to
wait for the sun to rise.
When the first faint light appeared on the eastern horizon, Silk rode
out and located a rocky gap passing to the northwest between two ocherous
cliff faces. As soon as he returned, they saddled their horses again and
moved out at a trot.
"We can get rid of these now, I think," Belgarath said, pulling off his
Murgo robe.
"I'll take them," Silk suggested as he reined in. "The gap's just ahead
there." He pointed. "I'1l catch up in a couple of hours."
"Where are you going?" Barak asked him.
"I'll leave a few miles more of false trail," Silk replied. "Then I'll
double back and make sure that you haven't left any tracks. It won't take
long."