The Demon Cycle Series Books 1 and 2: The Painted Man, The Desert Spear. Peter V. Brett

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      Soon after, the boys were wandering through the crowded marketplace surrounding the main square of Miln. Arlen spent a silver star to buy meat pies from a vendor, and then, their faces coated with grease, he handed over a few copper lights for a pocketful of sweets from another.

      ‘I’m going to be a Jongleur one day,’ Jaik said, sucking on a sweet as they made their way to the place where the children gathered.

      ‘Honest word?’ Arlen asked.

      Jaik nodded. ‘Watch this,’ he said, pulling three small wooden balls from his pockets and putting them into the air. Arlen laughed a moment later, when one of the balls struck Jaik’s head, and the others dropped to the ground in the confusion.

      ‘Still got grease on my fingers,’ Jaik said as they chased after the balls.

      ‘I guess,’ Arlen agreed. ‘I’m going to register at the Messengers’ guild once my apprenticeship with Cob is over.’

      ‘I could be your Jongleur!’ Jaik shouted. ‘We could test for the road together!’

      Arlen looked at him. ‘Have you ever even seen a demon?’ he asked.

      ‘What, you don’t think I have the stones for it?’ Jaik asked, shoving him.

      ‘Or the brains,’ Arlen said, shoving back. A moment later, they were scuffling on the ground. Arlen was still small for his age, and Jaik soon pinned him.

      ‘Fine, fine!’ Arlen laughed. ‘I’ll let you be my Jongleur!’

      ‘Your Jongleur?’ Jaik asked, not releasing him. ‘More like you’ll be my Messenger!’

      ‘Partners?’ Arlen offered. Jaik smiled and offered Arlen a hand up. Soon after, they were sitting on top of stone blocks in the town square, watching the apprentices of the Jongleurs’ guild cartwheel and mum, building excitement for the morning’s lead performer.

      Arlen’s jaw dropped when he saw Keerin enter the square. Tall and thin like a redheaded lamppost, the Jongleur was unmistakable. The crowd erupted into a roar.

      ‘It’s Keerin!’ Jaik said, shaking Arlen’s shoulder in excitement. ‘He’s my favourite!’

      ‘Really?’ Arlen asked, surprised.

      ‘What, who do you like?’ Jaik asked. ‘Marley? Koy? They’re not heroes like Keerin!’

      ‘He didn’t seem very heroic when I met him,’ Arlen said doubtfully.

      ‘You met Keerin?’ Jaik asked, his eyes widening.

      ‘He came to Tibbet’s Brook once,’ Arlen said. ‘He and Ragen found me on the road and brought me to Miln.’

      ‘Keerin rescued you?’

      ‘Ragen rescued me,’ Arlen corrected. ‘Keerin jumped at every shadow.’

      ‘The Core he did,’ Jaik said. ‘Do you think he’ll remember you?’ he asked. ‘Can you introduce me after the show?’

      ‘Maybe,’ Arlen shrugged.

      Keerin’s performance started out much as it had in Tibbet’s Brook. He juggled and danced, warming the crowd before telling the tale of the Return to the children and punctuating it with mummery, backflips, and somersaults.

      ‘Sing the song!’ Jaik cried. Others in the crowd took up the cry, begging Keerin to sing. He seemed not to notice for a time, until the call was thunderous and punctuated by the pounding of feet. Finally, he laughed and bowed, fetching his lute as the crowd burst into applause.

      He gestured, and Arlen saw the apprentices fetch hats and move into the crowd for donations. People gave generously, eager to hear Keerin sing. Finally, he began:

       The night was dark

       The ground was hard

       Succour was leagues away

       The cold wind stark

       Cutting at our hearts

       Only wards kept corelings at bay

       ‘Help me!’ we heard

       A voice in need

       The cry of a frightened child

       ‘Run to us!’ I called

       ‘Our circle’s СКАЧАТЬ