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

reply was a bit surly.
"That might be a good sign, you know."
"Maybe." Garion looked around. Off to the west there was a range of low
hills. Rearing above them stood a vast pile of rock.
"The Algar Stronghold," Durnik told Garion, pointing.
"Are we that close?"
"That's still a good day's ride."
"How high is it?" Garion asked.
"Four or five hundred feet at least," Silk told him. "The Algars have
been building at it for several thousand years. It gives them something to
do after the calving season."
Barak rode up. "How's Belgarath?" he asked as he approached.
"I think he might be improving just a little," Garion answered. "I
don't know for sure, though."
"That's something, anyway." The big man pointed toward a gully just
ahead. "You'd better go around that," he told Durnik. "King ChoHag says
that the ground gets a bit rough through there."
Durnik nodded and changed the wagon's direction.
Throughout the day, the Stronghold of the Algars loomed higher and
higher against the western horizon. It was a vast, towering fortress
rearing out of the dun-colored hills.
"A monument to an idea that got out of hand," Silk observed as he
lounged idly atop the wagon.
"I don't quite follow that," Durnik said.
"Algars are nomads," the little man explained. "They live in wagons
like this one and follow their herds. The Stronghold gives Murgo raiders
something to attack. That's its only real purpose. Very practical, really.
It's much easier than looking for them all over these plains. The Murgos
always come here, and it's a convenient place to wipe them out."
"Don't the Murgos realize that?" Durnik looked a bit skeptical.
"Quite possibly, but they come here anyway because they can't resist
the place. They simply can't accept the fact that nobody really lives
here." Silk grinned his ferretlike little grin. "You know how stubborn
Murgos are.
Anyway, over the years the Algar clans have developed a sort of
competition. Every year they try to outdo one another in hauling rock, and
the Stronghold keeps growing higher and higher."
"Did Kal Torak really lay siege to it for eight years?" Garion asked
him.
Silk nodded. "They say that his army was like a sea of Angaraks dashing
itself to pieces against the walls of the Stronghold. They might still be
here, but they ran out of food. That's always been the problem with large
armies.
Any fool can raise an army, but you start running into trouble around
suppertime."
As they approached the man-made mountain, the gates opened and a party
emerged to greet them. In the lead on a white palfrey rode Queen Silar
with Hettar close behind. At a certain point they stopped and sat waiting.
Garion lifted a small trapdoor in the roof of the wagon. "We're here,
Aunt Pol," he reported in a hushed voice.