Ironcrown Moon: Part Two of the Boreal Moon Tale. Julian May
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Название: Ironcrown Moon: Part Two of the Boreal Moon Tale
Автор: Julian May
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Героическая фантастика
isbn: 9780007378234
isbn:
‘It would probably work.’ The Supreme Warrior spoke without enthusiasm. ‘But I’d rather leave the groundling here. Let him instruct me in the details.’
‘I won’t agree –’ Beynor began to say.
‘Silence!’ The Conservator of Wisdom gave the command in a voice that was suddenly resounding and steady. ‘Beynor of Moss, step back from the dais and wait by the doors while we Four confer.’
Beynor obeyed. Numbed by the ordeal, he now felt no anxiety nor sense of anticipation as the great trolls murmured interminably among themselves. At long last the Conservator called out, ‘Beynor, come and stand again before us, and receive our decision.’
Kilian. Vra-Kilian Blackhorse. Do you hear? ‘Yes, Beynor.’
We’ve won. A small Salka force will leave for Didion within a few hours, taking me with them. They’ll be led by their Supreme Warrior, a surly savage named Ugusawnn. After slaughtering the royal family, we’re supposed to return to Dawntide Citadel, where I show the Four Eminences how to activate the Potency. They’ve decided to bond it to the Supreme Warrior. He intends to lead an attack on Royal Fenguard immediately, snap up Ulla’s sigils, and conquer the world for the Salka.
‘Heh heh heh! Brilliantly done, my boy. What a pack of simpletons!’
I’m supposed to believe that Ugusawnn will take me along on the invasion of Moss. But I’m fairly certain he intends to kill me as soon as he’s sure that I’ve properly activated the Potency
‘It would be extremely vexing if the monsters did polish you off.’
Ugusawnn is no fool and he has serious doubts about me. Still, it should be easy enough to give him the slip once he and the others have taken care of Honigalus. They have no suspicion that I’m able to impel a small boat with my talent – as if that weren’t one of the first tricks a Mossland magicker learns! Once I’m safely away in Didion, I’ll windspeak the Eminences the revised version of the bargain And we pray that they swallow their outrage and agree to it.
‘Why shouldn’t they? The alternative is custody of a useless dead sigil. How could the Salka possibly suspect that the Potency bonds to no one? That it can be snatched away from this Supreme Warrior and used by anyone at all without causing harm to the taker?’
Such a thing would never occur to them. I wonder why the Potency’s creator made it thus? Not too sensible, was it7 hot that I’m complaining!
‘Consider this: If the Potency doesn’t bond to its activator, then it doesn’t die when the owner does. Unlike all other sigils, the Potency might very well be immortal.’
Interesting – and unsettling, too. God of the Depths! How I wish there were some way of reading that last archive tablet! We need to know why the Potency was made, and why its reputation has always been so dire.
‘After we wipe out the Salka with Darasilo’s Trove, you can return to their citadel and find out.’
Perhaps…Kilian, this conversation must end now. The Supreme Warrior is expecting me to join him. We ‘re inspecting the small boat that will carry me to Didion.
‘Good luck, then, Beynor. May you have a safe voyage.’
I’ll see you in your dreams.
Snudge and his companions broke the first short day of their northward journey shortly before the eleventh hour after noon. The cavalcade had arrived at a little village called Swallowmere, some sixty leagues north of the capital, where there was a tavern of unpretentious but promising aspect. The horses were tired by then, but the young travelers weren’t – not on Solstice Eve, when every man of spirit save those constrained by holy orders was expected to celebrate High Summer.
The Green Swallow Inn proved to be well stocked with extra food and drink for the occasion. Crowded with friendly locals, it featured a three-man band of peasant musicians and plenty of lasses to dance and flirt with. Snudge, his armigers Valdos and Wiltorig, and Sir Gavlock and his squire Hanan joined wholeheartedly in the roistering.
Meanwhile Vra-Mattis, the apprentice windvoice assigned to Sir Deveron by the king, eschewed worldly pleasures as befit a novice in the Mystical Order of Saint Zeth. The night was very warm, so Mat put off his robe and settled down in the inn’s forecourt in his undertunic. He ate a good supper of mutton-dumpling stew and strawberry tarts, rested his saddlesore muscles, and finally fell into a doze on a heap of clean straw, bothered not a whit by the convivial racket coming from inside the tavern.
Some time later, in the wee hours, the novice was jolted awake by an urgent windspoken message from the Royal Alchymist Lord Stergos, intended for Sir Deveron. Its portent was so grave that Mattis hastened to seek out his master without even donning his robe. The interior of the inn was now jam-packed with funseekers, many of them so taken by strong drink that they could barely stand. Skirling pipes, a squawking fiddle, a thumping tabor, laughter and song fairly shook the rafters.
Mattis found his master grinning owlishly as he stomped and shuffled in a drunken round-dance with three cavorting farm-girls. From the sidelines. Sir Gavlok hoisted a cannikin of rustic rotgut and cheered, ignoring the frantic novice who bellowed into his unresponsive ear.
The dance finally ended to raucous applause and Mattis rushed to take Snudge by the arm and pull him in the direction of the inn’s front door. Gavlok trailed along after, protesting his friend’s evacuation.
‘Sir!’ the novice cried. ‘Sir Deveron, can you understand me?’
‘Unhand me, knave,’ Snudge mumbled. ‘Wanna dance!’ He tripped over his own feet and fell to his knees in the dirt courtyard. ‘Feel sleepy. Time f’bed.’
‘Sir, please listen!’ Vra-Mattis attempted without success to haul his master upright. ‘I’ve received an important wind-message from the Royal Alchymist. His Grace the High King commands you to return to the capital immediately.’
‘Booger the king. Booger Stergos. Go ‘way.’ Snudge rolled onto his face.
The dismayed windvoice appealed to the other young knight, who now seemed to be almost sober. ‘What am I to do? We dare not wait until he’s slept off his carouse. Lord Stergos insisted that we leave here at once.’
Gavlok nudged his collapsed friend with his foot. ‘Commander! Arise! Duty calls!’ The only response was a muffled curse. Inside the inn, the music had started up again more loudly and off-key than ever. A fat man staggered out the door and spewed in the shadows.
‘Poor Deveron,’ Gavlok mourned. ‘His very first holiday. Alas – he was having such a fine time, too! But I fear, Brother Mat, that drastic measures are now called for. Assist me, if you please.’ Together, the two men began to drag the inert Snudge across the courtyard toward the stables. A courting couple fled at their approach.
Sir Gavlok Whitfell was aware that Deveron Austrey frequently undertook secret missions for King Conrig, but knew nothing of his friend’s arcane talent. Formerly СКАЧАТЬ