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.Priests went out onto the moor at dawn, sacrificing rabbits andchickens to those same gods, who should even now be waiting for Sybella.The gotsvell was dark, savage.Trial by combat.But she had chosen it, and the ritual would be enacted very soon.Rogan felt the certainty in hisbone marrow.By evening they would see the banners of Morgan Halloran s North-wind Regiment and Shevan Armes Ancients of Lochrain, and he wasaware of a shiver.He would accept the laurels of command from his clansister, and the fortune of every soldier in the north rode on his shoulders.He felt the weight of responsibility there, like a goblin with bloody spurssunk into his sides.The last fires of sunset blazed low in the west but the eastern stars werealready bright when the outriders sighted scouts from Huyuk.Both thecompany s advance riders and the scouts were Shochene.They called toeach other in an impossible language, trading news and casually insultingeach other, and as Rogan s own riders returned to the column, the wholecompany picked up its pace.The Shochene from Huyuk brought Morgan swell wishes and, to Rogan s pleasure, greetings from Talesyn Halloran.Hewas alive, he was well and he would remain that way.Rogan had swornan oath before Damiel.No ill would befall Talesyn.Harness jingled, hooves thudded into the turf as tired horses respond-ed.In the distance was Huyuk.Horses there called out, and animals downthe column answered.The smell of the river was in Rogan s nostrils now,and its wide loop lay off to the east, where aspen and spruce grew in placeswhere the topsoil was thick enough, rich enough, to support trees.And at last, there was Huyuk, a city of pavilions in the horseshoe bendof the river, bright with fires, alive with the orderly chaos of two regimentsand their camp followers.The season was still new, and the fighting herehad been held to a series of frantic skirmishes in the lowlands.Morgan sdispatches reported lightning raids, the ambush of a supply column on theroad, a hunting party that had foraged too far into the wild and was caughtby sniper fire from the hills.Prisoners had already been taken.Pale, dirty, sullen faces looked outof the pens which lined the road into Huyuk.They were almost allEisweg in Hrald Barbansen s people but Rogan saw blue eyes amongthem, ruddy complexions, fair hair.The Eisweg in were usually browneyed and olive skinned, with raven-black hair.The people from the southof Nordheim were yellow haired and blue eyed, like the Leysach in of Sulgaard in the east, the Eshar in from the Dawntide River, in the west.But some of the prisoners in Morgan s stockade were red haired andgreen eyed, or had Tristan s coloring, the night-dark hair, amber eyes andskin like pale gold.Rogan said nothing, but he knew at a glance, Morganhad taken captives from Sheld, Alscod, Ferrush, Delus, and none of themshould have been in the north.In a week or a month, they would be free.They lived in the stockade,slept in sheepskins and mounded hay, ate the same food as the regiment,warmed themselves at their own braziers, until they were needed for anexchange of prisoners.Every chieftain took hostages, in every campaign,and captives were seldom abused.Soon enough they would be bartered asthe price of life and freedom for the same chieftain s friends and brothers.As the company entered the vast compound of Huyuk, its cohortsdispersed in every direction.The pavilions were already up, the air wasrich with the smell of cooking food, and Rogan was looking forward toscalding bathwater, a cup of hot mead, a fire.At the sound of his name, he turned toward the crowd which hadgathered to watch the column ride in, and had to smile.He could havepicked Talesyn Halloran out of any company as Damiel s youngest son.Hewas born when she was just eighteen, and until lately, when the weight ofgrief and responsibility on her shoulders had begun to exhaust her andbring the strands of silver into her hair, she could easily have been a sisterto Talesyn and Julian.Tal shared little in common with his brother, but hewas so like Damiel.His hair was blue-black, long, and worn in a singlethick braid on his shoulder.His skin was still winter-pale, and his eyeswere the same astonishing shade of blue as Damiel s.In the striking cold of late twilight he was wrapped in a dark cloakover a scarlet and gold tunic, slender as many a girl, and more beautifulthan most.Only the fact he was a ricon s son brought him to Huyuk at all.He should have been studying, learning languages, statecraft, music anddance, which were his skills and loves.He was laughing as Rogan swung down out of the saddle.He offeredhis hands, but Rogan ignored them, and swept the youth into an embrace.He was thin and hard, and though his face showed its bones all angles,cheekbones and jaw his eyes were clear.For once he was well, as if thecold mountain air suited him, as it suited Tristan. You look very fine, Rogue, Talesyn mocked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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.Priests went out onto the moor at dawn, sacrificing rabbits andchickens to those same gods, who should even now be waiting for Sybella.The gotsvell was dark, savage.Trial by combat.But she had chosen it, and the ritual would be enacted very soon.Rogan felt the certainty in hisbone marrow.By evening they would see the banners of Morgan Halloran s North-wind Regiment and Shevan Armes Ancients of Lochrain, and he wasaware of a shiver.He would accept the laurels of command from his clansister, and the fortune of every soldier in the north rode on his shoulders.He felt the weight of responsibility there, like a goblin with bloody spurssunk into his sides.The last fires of sunset blazed low in the west but the eastern stars werealready bright when the outriders sighted scouts from Huyuk.Both thecompany s advance riders and the scouts were Shochene.They called toeach other in an impossible language, trading news and casually insultingeach other, and as Rogan s own riders returned to the column, the wholecompany picked up its pace.The Shochene from Huyuk brought Morgan swell wishes and, to Rogan s pleasure, greetings from Talesyn Halloran.Hewas alive, he was well and he would remain that way.Rogan had swornan oath before Damiel.No ill would befall Talesyn.Harness jingled, hooves thudded into the turf as tired horses respond-ed.In the distance was Huyuk.Horses there called out, and animals downthe column answered.The smell of the river was in Rogan s nostrils now,and its wide loop lay off to the east, where aspen and spruce grew in placeswhere the topsoil was thick enough, rich enough, to support trees.And at last, there was Huyuk, a city of pavilions in the horseshoe bendof the river, bright with fires, alive with the orderly chaos of two regimentsand their camp followers.The season was still new, and the fighting herehad been held to a series of frantic skirmishes in the lowlands.Morgan sdispatches reported lightning raids, the ambush of a supply column on theroad, a hunting party that had foraged too far into the wild and was caughtby sniper fire from the hills.Prisoners had already been taken.Pale, dirty, sullen faces looked outof the pens which lined the road into Huyuk.They were almost allEisweg in Hrald Barbansen s people but Rogan saw blue eyes amongthem, ruddy complexions, fair hair.The Eisweg in were usually browneyed and olive skinned, with raven-black hair.The people from the southof Nordheim were yellow haired and blue eyed, like the Leysach in of Sulgaard in the east, the Eshar in from the Dawntide River, in the west.But some of the prisoners in Morgan s stockade were red haired andgreen eyed, or had Tristan s coloring, the night-dark hair, amber eyes andskin like pale gold.Rogan said nothing, but he knew at a glance, Morganhad taken captives from Sheld, Alscod, Ferrush, Delus, and none of themshould have been in the north.In a week or a month, they would be free.They lived in the stockade,slept in sheepskins and mounded hay, ate the same food as the regiment,warmed themselves at their own braziers, until they were needed for anexchange of prisoners.Every chieftain took hostages, in every campaign,and captives were seldom abused.Soon enough they would be bartered asthe price of life and freedom for the same chieftain s friends and brothers.As the company entered the vast compound of Huyuk, its cohortsdispersed in every direction.The pavilions were already up, the air wasrich with the smell of cooking food, and Rogan was looking forward toscalding bathwater, a cup of hot mead, a fire.At the sound of his name, he turned toward the crowd which hadgathered to watch the column ride in, and had to smile.He could havepicked Talesyn Halloran out of any company as Damiel s youngest son.Hewas born when she was just eighteen, and until lately, when the weight ofgrief and responsibility on her shoulders had begun to exhaust her andbring the strands of silver into her hair, she could easily have been a sisterto Talesyn and Julian.Tal shared little in common with his brother, but hewas so like Damiel.His hair was blue-black, long, and worn in a singlethick braid on his shoulder.His skin was still winter-pale, and his eyeswere the same astonishing shade of blue as Damiel s.In the striking cold of late twilight he was wrapped in a dark cloakover a scarlet and gold tunic, slender as many a girl, and more beautifulthan most.Only the fact he was a ricon s son brought him to Huyuk at all.He should have been studying, learning languages, statecraft, music anddance, which were his skills and loves.He was laughing as Rogan swung down out of the saddle.He offeredhis hands, but Rogan ignored them, and swept the youth into an embrace.He was thin and hard, and though his face showed its bones all angles,cheekbones and jaw his eyes were clear.For once he was well, as if thecold mountain air suited him, as it suited Tristan. You look very fine, Rogue, Talesyn mocked [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]