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Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress: 2-Book Collection. David EddingsЧитать онлайн книгу.

Belgarath the Sorcerer and Polgara the Sorceress: 2-Book Collection - David  Eddings


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11

       Chapter 27

       Chapter 28

       Chapter 29

       Chapter 30

       Chapter 31

       Chapter 32

       Part Five: The Secret

       Chapter 33

       Chapter 34

       Chapter 35

       Chapter 36

       Chapter 37

       Chapter 38

       Chapter 39

       Chapter 40

       Chapter 41

       Chapter 42

       Part Six: Garion

       Chapter 43

       Chapter 44

       Chapter 45

       Chapter 46

       Chapter 47

       Chapter 48

       Chapter 49

       Chapter 50

       Epilogue

       Map

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       Prologue

      It was well past midnight and very cold. The moon had risen, and her pale light made the frost crystals lying in the snow sparkle like carelessly strewn diamonds. In a peculiar way it seemed to Garion almost as if the snow-covered earth were reflecting the starry sky overhead.

      ‘I think they’re gone now,’ Durnik said, peering upward. His breath steamed in the icy, dead-calm air. ‘I can’t see that rainbow any more.’

      ‘Rainbow?’ Belgarath asked, sounding slightly amused.

      ‘You know what I mean. Each of them has a different-colored light. Aldur’s is blue, Issa’s is green, Chaldan’s is red, and the others all have different colors. Is there some significance to that?’

      ‘It’s probably a reflection of their different personalities,’ Belgarath replied. ‘I can’t be entirely positive, though. My Master and I never got around to discussing it.’ He stamped his feet in the snow. ‘Why don’t we go back?’ he suggested. ‘It’s really cold out here.’

      They turned and started back down the hill toward the cottage, their feet crunching in the frozen snow. The farmstead at the foot of the hill looked warm and comforting. The thatched roof of the cottage was thick with snow, and the icicles hanging from the eaves glittered in the moonlight. The outbuildings Durnik had constructed were dark, but the windows of the cottage were all aglow with golden lamplight that spread softly out over the mounded snow in the dooryard. A column of blue woodsmoke rose straight and unwavering from the chimney, rising, it seemed, to the very stars.

      It had probably not really been necessary for the three of them to accompany their guests to the top of the hill to witness their departure, but it was Durnik’s house, and Durnik was a Sendar. Sendars are meticulous about proprieties and courtesies.

      ‘Eriond’s changed,’ Garion noted as they neared the bottom of the hill. ‘He seems more certain of himself now.’

      Belgarath shrugged. ‘He’s growing up. It happens to everybody – except to Belar, maybe. I don’t think we can ever expect Belar to grow up.’

      ‘Belgarath!’ Durnik sounded shocked. ‘That’s no way for a man to speak about his God!’

      ‘What


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