"Bard's Tale 04 - The Chaos Gate - Josepha Sherman UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bard's Tale)

"I beg your pardon?"
"How dare you not tell me who you were right from the start!"
лI_"
"What were you trying to do? Let the silly girl make
a fool of herself?" "No, IЧ"
"That's exactly it, isn't it?" "Why would I want to do a thing like that?" "Why? Because you wouldn't be the first! Men don't
like women who aren't properly meek, do they?" "That's the most ridiculous thing I've everЧ" "No, no," Gwenlyn rushed on, "all they want of a
noblewoman is that she not be noticed except asЧas a
prize to be shown off like a pretty, brainless brood
mare!"
"I would never treat a woman like that!"
"Ha! You certainly aren't going to treat we like that!"
Gwenlyn broke off to catch her breath, then continued in a slightly calmer voice, "Look you, I know I have a sharp tongue. But what other weapon is there for someone like me? You don't really think you're the first of my would-be suitors, do you? The others have come wooing my father's wealth and status practically since the day I was born. But all of them raced away the minute they found out they couldn't cow meЧ after each one of them did his best to humble me. And that's exactly the path you were following!"
"No!"
"Yes! You wanted me to make a fool of myself so you could laugh at me and be oh so superior!"
A stab of sympathy shot through Kevin. "I'm sorry you think that way. But I swear I didn't mean to hurt you."
"Oh no, of course not," she drawled. "You were playing that ridiculous false role because you were trying to make me feel at ease."
"I was trying," Kevin said with as much self-control as he could muster, "to give us both a chance to know each other without rank getting in the way. But I can see that isn't going to work out."
"On the contrary," Gwenlyn snarled. "It's worked out all too well. I've already learned I'd as soon link my name toЧto a dog baying at the moon as marry you."
"How poetic. And 7 would much prefer to hear that dog howl at me than listen to one more word from Your Thorniness."
"Oh, be wary of my thorns, indeed!"
They broke off, glaring at each other. "Better to know how we feel about each other now," Kevin said at last, "before it's too late."
"Much better. And since we do know it, you have no excuse to linger here. So go!"
"Gladly!"
Kevin bowed his curtest bow and stormed off, swearing under his breath. Curse the woman, curse his own stupidity, curse this whole idiotic business! Part of him still couldn't help but feel sorry for Gwenlyn, trapped in the snare of her social status as she was. But he didn't love her, he was most surely never going to love her, and he doubted the prickly creature would ever let herself love anybody. Besides, just because he pitied her it didn't mean he wanted to tie himself for the rest of his life to someone who would as soon stab him with words as kiss him!
Now, isn't this a lovely mess? Kevin mused bitterly. 7 don't want her, she doesn't want me, but I can't simply break off this almost-betrothal, not without offending Count Trahern.
And that would be a most perilous thing to do. Offending such an important noble, Kevin knew, would almost certainly trap him in the midst of who knew what political tangles.
The young count let out his breath in a long sigh of frustration. Right now, he'd give anything to be back in the old days, out on the road with Lydia, Tich'ki and the others with an open world of adventure ahead. But swordplay or Bardic Magic wasn't going to help him now. He'd once fought bandits and the undead and triumphed, but there wasn't anything he could do to get himself out of this more prosaic peril. In fact, Kevin thought dourly, there was only one thing he could do right now. And by all the Powers, he meant to do it: go home!
Chapter VI Gate Building
Alone in her dark little sorcery laboratory, Rualath stood a long time lost in thought, even as she had been doing again and again since boldly making her vow to Haralachan about snaring Naitachal. What was she going to do about fulfilling that vow? She couldn't afford to waste too much more time. Soon enough the Dark Elf lord would be wondering what she was about, and if she didn't have something to show himЧ
Wait. Panic was ridiculous, weak. Take the problem point by point. Naitachal, now... she could not claim to know Naitachal very well. Even though they shared clan and caste, he had always been a strange creature, keeping to himself as much as possible, never really letting himself be involved in any of the convoluted, endless tangle ofNithathili plots, save those necessary for his own survival. But even as a child he had attracted the attention of those whose task it was to train promising young sorcerers in the proper science of Necromancy, the potential for Power radiating around him, strong and dark.
No, Rualath corrected herself drily, it would appear
that his Power hadn't been truly Dark after all. Though at the time he had seemed most perfectly born and bred for the role of Necromancer, absorbing every harsh lesson of the art without complaint or weakness, Naitachal had most definitely perverted his talents.
"Music." Rualath said that foreign word with distaste, then shook her head. How could he possibly take such deep pleasure in a random collection of sounds?
No. Never mind that. Naitachal's bizarre tastes hardly mattered. No matter how fiercely he might try to deny his heritage, he was still a fully trained Necromancer. That made him a dangerous foeЧbut a predictable one. Other Necromancers had challenged Rualath in the past, seeking to supplant her as Haralachan's consort. She had destroyed every one of those who'd dared challenge her. No, the difficulty would not be so much in fighting and besting Naitachal, but in finding a way to lure him back to the Darkness in which he could be conquered.
Oh, indeed. And how was she going to find such a way? With an impatient hiss, Rualath knelt and released the magical clasps of chest after chest, crouching to rummage yet again through the scrolls that represented long years of study and experimentation.
But at last she sat back in helpless frustration. Nothing! There was still nothing she could use! If Naitachal was still of the Darkness, there would have been half a hundred strategies she could have used to snare him. But what could lure him now? What had he become, this impossibility of Darkness turned Light? How did he think? What would he, what could he want?
Ae, but she could hardly come before Haralachan with an inane, "I've failed." That would be as good as offering him a sacrificial knife and lying meekly down on the altar. No, no, there had to be another solution.
All right, then. Think. If the finished, set magics she'd previously created were useless, perhaps one of her experimental, untested spells might serve, instead. But... which?
With a sudden snarl of impatience, Rualath got to her feet, straightening her robes widi brusque hands. If her mind refused to help her here, perhaps a change of sceneЧand just possibly a brief hunt should some prey, animal or servant, cross her pathЧwould clear her thoughts.
Rualath silently prowled the chill, dark caverns of her lord's realm, seeing no one, hearing no one. But then she stopped with a soft, startled hiss, staring into utter blackness that even Nithathil sight could not pierce, her every magical sense alert and on guard. Another was here, another stood silent in the darkness. Why? A threat? Rualath drew defensive Power to her, ready to cast.
"I am alone." A shrouded figure moved slightly forward, just enough for Rualath to see it assume the posture of Courteous Submission to an Equal: arms out from sides to show no weapons hidden, palms held parallel to the stone floor to show no spells being worked.
Ha, she knew the aura of this one. "Tanarchal. What do you want?"
If he was surprised at the ease with which she'd identified him, he showed no sign, calmly pushing back the hood of his cloak to meet her gaze. "I am overcome with admiration," he said.
"Meaning?"
"Your sorcerous skill. And strength of will. I would not have the courage to experiment with Power as you do."
"You would not have the talent," Rualath said flatly. "I ask again: what do you want?"
"What do you want? So much Power, so much talent . . . what do you want, Rualath?"
She raised a skeptical brow. "I am consort to our ruler, free to work whatever experiments I wish. What more could I want?"
His teeth flashed in the darkness in a predatory grin. "I hardly expect one such as you to show weakness."