"Bard's Tale 06 - Escape from Roksamur - Mark Shepherd UC" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bard's Tale)

lenged. But, as Alaire had feared, King Derek was in
conference with someone. His temper short and his
patience fragile, he might have barged in unannounced
if he'd known who the king was speaking with. But to
do so would only have embarrassed himself; familiar-
ity with the king, even when he was your big brother,
was something better expressed in private.
He sat on a lumpy, padded bench in the gallery and
tried to relax. The summer heat had seized the palace
and a hot, muggy blast blew through the gallery's open
windows. This was not the sort of summer Alaire or
anyone else in Althea had expected, and it was cer-
tainly not one the Bard enjoyed.
"King Derek will see you now," a young servant said
from the open doors of the royal chambers. "Please
forgive the wait," the boy said. "With the situation as
it is, we have been rather busy today."
Bard Alaire nodded. He understood fully. "That is
quite all right," he replied, starting for the door. "I've
seen firsthand what the problem is."
Alaire recognized the two noblemen, representa-
tives of the Farmer's Guild, as they left the king's
chambers. Their long faces tilted toward Alaire re-
spectfully before they took their leave of the gallery.
And I am nowhere close to finding a solution to
the problem, Alaire thought morosely as he entered
his brothers chambers.
Two years of rule had added lines to Derek's face.
When their father, King Reynard, had died after a
long illness, Derek was well prepared mentally for
taking over the duties of the King, as he had been
in training since he was thirteen. Emotionally, as
Alaire recalled, Derek took more time in adjusting to
the loss of their second parent; Crania, their mother,
had died a year earlier. Alaire's seven brothers had all
assumed the roles they'd been trained for, including
war lord, seneschal and priest. Of these positions and
others, Alaire reasoned, the role of king would have
to be the most difficult. Derek's sudden aging, and a
new swath of gray in his hair supported this.
"Dear brother," Derek said warmly, turning from the
open window of his chambers, along which was a long
marble table with a pewter pitcher and tankards. "I
was expecting you back a fortnight from now," he added,
with an audible touch of anxiety. Unsurprisingly, his
ermine cloak hung from the gilded throne, and he wore
only a tan silk shirt, light breeches and boots. The kings
beard, usually trimmed neatly, had grown bushy lately,
and Alaire suspected he might even consider shaving
it off altogether if this heat kept up. Derek's smile