"Dan Parkinson. The Gates of Thorbardin ("DragonLance Saga Heroes II" #2) (angl)" - читать интересную книгу автора

ined them. He looked around and there was no one
there. He was alone.
"It might very well have," he told himself. "This might
once have been a forest fire, and all the old trees burned
and the ones here now grew later."
"Much later," something seemed to say.
"I beg your pardon?" The kender turned full circle,
holding his forked staff at the ready. There was no one
there, nor any sign that anyone had been there - at least
in a very long time. The only sound was the fitful breeze
rustling the treetops. He squatted, peering under the
nearby bush, then walked in a wide circle, looking be-
hind trees and under stones. There was no one anywhere
about.
Perplexed and curious, he went on, turning often to
look behind him. He wasn't sure at all that he had heard
anything, but he didn't remember thinking the words
that he had seemed to hear until after he seemed to hear
them. Talking to himself was nothing unusual for Chess.
As a traveler, he was often alone, and even in company
he often preferred to talk to himself. But he didn't recall
ever not being in complete charge of one of his own
conversations.
The younger forest - he thought of it now as After-

burn Woods - rose away before the kender, and he kept
traveling more or less northward, recalling from time to
time that his original purpose - at least the most recent
one - had been to go east across the valley with Chane
Feldstone, to see if the dwarf could find his dream-
helmet.
The forest thickened, then broke away, and the black
road was before him, curving in from the east to wind
northward again. The path almost immediately lost it-
self in the forest as it curved once more, again to the east.
"I wonder what it's trying to stay away from now," the
kender muttered.
"Death and birth," something nearby seemed to say.
Chess spun around. As before, there was no one there.
"Death and birth?" he repeated.
"Birth and death," something almost certainly said.
This time Chess strolled about, squinting as he peered
upward. Maybe the talking bird has come back, he
thought. But there was no sign of it anywhere. Besides, it
had talked - clearly and without mistake. Whatever was
talking here just kind of seemed to talk. It wasn't the
same.
With a grunt of exasperation, he put his hands on his
hips and asked, 'Whose birth and death?"
"Mine and theirs," something seemed to respond.