Книга только для ознакомления
. It was an unspoken
agreement, simply a thing that two travelers, wise in the
ways of wilderness country, would do.
Wingover squatted on his heels and spread Jilian's map
on the ground. "It doesn't even have an orientation," he
said. 'Which way is which?"
She stood behind him, to see over his shoulder. 'You
can tell that from where the X's are." She pointed. "One
of them is the Southgate of Thorbardin, and the other is
where those ruffians last saw Chane Feldstone."
'That doesn't tell me anything," Wingover sighed.
"Even if we knew which X was which - and we don't -
all that would tell us is that this edge of the map - or this
opposite one - should face north. But how far apart are
the X's?"
"About six inches," Jilian shrugged. "We can measure it
if you -"
"I don't mean that. I mean how far is this supposed to
represent in real distance?"
"The distance from Southgate to the northern wilder-
ness," she explained, wondering again at the man's inabil-
ity to remember simple things. "However far that is."
He sighed again, shaking his head. 'That might be
twenty miles, or it might be fifty. Gods, girl, there isn't a
boundary, you know. There isn't some kind of line
drawn across the mountains with signs that say, 'This is
Thorbardin's realm and that side is wilderness
|
