The Shining Ones. David Eddings

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СКАЧАТЬ Sparhawk shouted at him.

       ‘What?’

      Sparhawk sighed. ‘Why don’t we go out and get drunk?’ he suggested, giving up entirely.

      It was cloudy the following morning. It was a low, dirty-gray cloud-cover which seethed and tattered in the stiff wind aloft. It was one of those peculiar days when the murk raced overhead, streaming in off the gulf lying to the west, but the air at the surface was dead calm.

      They set out early and clattered along the narrow, cobbled streets where sleepy-eyed shopkeepers were opening their shutters and setting out their wares. They passed through the city gates and took the road that followed the north coast of the gulf.

      After they had gone a mile or so, Vanion leaned over in his saddle. ‘How far do we have to go?’ he asked Flute, who nestled, as always, in her sister’s arms.

      ‘What difference does it make?’ the Child Goddess shrugged.

      ‘I’d like to know how long it’s going to take.’

      ‘What does “how far” have to do with “how long”?’

      ‘They’re the same thing, Aphrael. Time and distance mean the same thing when you’re traveling.’

      ‘Not if you know what you’re doing, they don’t.’

      Sparhawk had always admired Vanion, but never quite so much as in that moment. The silvery-bearded preceptor did not even raise his voice. ‘All I’m really getting at, Divine One, is that nobody knows we’re here. Shouldn’t we keep it that way? I don’t mind a good fight now and then, but would bashing our way through crowds of drunken Edomish peasants serve any real purpose right now?’

      ‘You always take so long to get to the point, Vanion,’ she said. ‘Why didn’t you just come right out and tell me to speed things up?’

      ‘I was trying to be polite. I think we’ll all feel much better about this when Sparhawk’s got Bhelliom in his hands again. It’s up to you, though. If you want the road from here to wherever it is you’ve got Bhelliom hidden awash with blood and littered with corpses, we’ll be happy to oblige you.’

      ‘He’s hateful,’ Aphrael said to her sister.

      ‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that.’

      ‘You wouldn’t. Sometimes you two are worse than Sparhawk and Ehlana.’

      Sparhawk moved in rather quickly at that point. Aphrael was coming very close to saying things which she shouldn’t be saying in the presence of the others. ‘Shall we move right along?’ he suggested quite firmly. ‘Vanion’s right, Aphrael, and you know he is. If Rebal finds out that we’re here, we’ll have to wade through his people by the score.’

      ‘All right,’ she gave in quite suddenly.

      ‘That was quick,’ Talen said to Khalad.

      ‘I thought she was going to be stubborn about it.’

      ‘No, Talen,’ she smirked. ‘Actually, I’m sort of looking forward to hearing that vast cry of chagrin that’s going to echo from every mountain in Daresia when our enemies hear the sound of Anakha’s fist closing around Bhelliom again. Just lean back in your saddles, gentlemen, and leave the rest to me.’

      Sparhawk awoke with a start. They were riding along the brink of a windswept cliff with an angry sea ripping itself to tattered froth on the rocks far below. Sephrenia rode in the lead, and she held Flute enfolded in her arms. The others trailed along behind, their cloaks drawn tightly around them and wooden expressions of endurance on their faces. The wind had risen, and it pushed at them and tugged at their cloaks.

      There were some significant impossibilities involved here, but Sparhawk’s mind seemed somehow numb to them. Normally, Vanion rode protectively close to Sephrenia, but Vanion didn’t seem to be with them now.

      Tynian, however, was. Sparhawk knew with absolute certainty that Tynian was a thousand leagues and more away, but there he was, his broad face as wooden as the faces of the others and his right shoulder as functional as ever.

      Sparhawk did not turn round. He knew that another impossibility was riding behind him.

      Their horses plodded up the winding trail that followed the edge of the long, ascending cliff toward a rocky promontory which thrust a crooked, stony finger out into the sea. At the outermost tip of the promontory stood a gnarled and twisted tree, its streaming branches flailing in the wind.

      When she reached the tree, Sephrenia reined in. Kurik walked forward to lift Flute down. Sparhawk felt a sharp pang of bitter resentment. He knew about Aphrael’s need for symmetry, but this went too far.

      Kurik set Aphrael down on her feet, and when he straightened, he looked Sparhawk full in the face. Sparhawk’s squire was unchanged. His features were rugged, and his black beard, touched with silver, was as coarse as ever. His bare shoulders were bulky, and his wrists were enclosed in steel cuffs. Without so much as changing expression, he winked at his lord.

      ‘Very well, then,’ Flute said to them in a crisp voice, ‘let’s get on with this before too many more of my cousins change their minds. I had to talk very fast and even throw a few tantrums to get them to agree, and many of them still have grave doubts about the whole notion.’

      ‘You don’t have to explain things to them, Flute,’ Kurik told her in that gruff voice of his, a voice so familiar that Sparhawk’s eyes filled with sudden tears. ‘Just tell them what to do. They’re Church Knights, after all, so they’re used to following orders they don’t understand.’

      She laughed delightedly. ‘How very wise you are, Kurik. All right, then, gentlemen, come with me.’ She led them past the gnarled tree to the brink of the awful precipice. Even though they were very high above it, the roaring of the surf was much like heavy thunder.

      ‘All right,’ Aphrael told them, ‘I’m going to need your help with this.’

      ‘What do you want us to do?’ Tynian asked her.

      ‘Stand there and approve.’

      ‘Do what?’

      ‘Just approve of me, Tynian. You can cheer if you like, but it’s not really necessary. All I really need is approval – and love, of course – but there’s nothing unusual about that. I always need love.’ She smiled at them mysteriously.

      Then she stepped off the edge of the cliff.

      Talen gave a startled cry and plunged after her.

      The Child Goddess, as unconcerned as if she were only taking a morning stroll, walked out across the empty air. Talen, however, fell like a stone.

      Oh, bother!’ Aphrael exclaimed peevishly. She made a curious gesture with one hand, and Talen stopped falling. He sprawled in mid-air, his limbs straddled, his face pasty-white, and his eyes bulging with horror. ‘Would you take care of that, Sephrenia?’ the little girl said. ‘I’m busy right now.’ Then she glared down at Talen. ‘You and I are going to have a talk about this, young man,’ she said ominously. Then she turned and continued СКАЧАТЬ