"Bertin,.Joanne.-.The.Last.Dragonlord.(1998).ShareConnector.com" - читать интересную книгу автора (Bertin Joanne)

The scrolls, she saw, were tied with different colored ribbons. But only one bore a ribbon of the royal scarlet. This was it, then.
Beryl lifted it gently, shielding her fingers with a strip of silk she'd brought for just this purpose; who knew what magics the Dragonlords had? Could they sense her if she actually touched the parchment itself?
She slid it up one of her long sleeves, between gown and shift, and cradled it against her body.
Now to hide it in the place she had marked days ago, a place where no one would ever find it.
Linden heaved a sigh of relief. The interminable feast was finally over and the last Cassorin noble had been presented to them. Now Kief, Tarlna, and he stood on a balcony overlooking the great hall below, talking quietly.
"What do you think?" Tarlna asked.
"It all seems straightforward enough," Kief said. "This may be just what it seems: a question of who shall be regent, nothing more." He paused to sip his wine. "Still..."
"Still we keep our eyes and ears open," said Linden. "I've naught to say against that; it's only good sense."
"And mingle as much as possible," Tarlna added. "It's amazing what someone will let slip in a conversation at dinner or a hunt, especially when they don't realize just how sharp your hearing is."
"That won't be hard," Linden grumbled, thinking of how many invitations had been pressed upon him already.
"You, too, hm?" Kief said sympathetically.
"Mm. I'm going to get more wine." Linden set off, looking about himself in curiosity.
He'd never seen anything quite like this. Galleries for minstrels, yes; even his father's small mountain hold had had one. But never before had he heard of a balcony for the guests of honor to survey the room. Here and there were small tables with comfortable chairs set around them. Larger tables held refreshments so that the favored occupants need not brave the crowd below to seek food and drink. At either end of the balcony wide stone staircases spiraled down to the dancing floor.
It was all very elegant, with the carved stonework of the railing, the bright tapestries covering the granite walls, the torches blazing in their sconces of gold.
And it was public as hell.
Every time he or one of the others Dragonlords went to the rail, Linden's sympathy for the denizens of a wild beast show grew. Half the people in the place seemed to be standing just below, waiting for a Dragonlord to look down. Even from this distanceЧand despite the musicЧhe could hear the rising buzz of conversation every time one of them approached the rail. He noted glumly that the squeals and giggles seemed reserved for his appearances. As Linden waited for the servant to fill his goblet with spiced wine, he tried to decide whether he felt more like the trained wolf or the dancing bear.
Stop looking so sour, Kief's mindvoice said.
Linden growled back, And why shouldn't I? You wouldn't be so smug if they were hunting you as well. But no; they see that you're with Tarlna and shy off. It wouldn't be so bad if there were someone else to distract them.
I went through it as well before Tarlna Changed. You'II live, little one. It's nothing; stop making such a fuss. Kief's laughter rang in Linden's mind.
Linden grumbled. He knew Kief thought him silly. But it bothered him that so many women saw only the rank and not the man. He had accepted many long years ago that all too often he was pursued as a lover's trophy, a conquest to flaunt before rivals.
He accepted it, but he didn't have to like it.
From the corner of his eye Linden saw Prince Peridaen come up the stairs. Since the elderly Duchess Alinya had retired early, the prince, as the ranking member of the family, was now their host. Linden had noticed that Peridaen and Duke Beren of Silvermarch had been carefully avoiding each other all evening.
Peridaen was flanked by two woman, Baroness Anstella of the council on one side, a young woman on the other. The girl's eyes looked down modestly as she walked. Another man, dressed in sober grey and green, followed them; he looked vaguely familiar.
Linden thought a moment before he recognized the man: Peridaen's steward. The fellow certainly looked the part; he had a lean face that revealed nothing; his master's secrets were well hidden behind it. The torchlight glittered on his heavy silver chain of office.
Peridaen and Anstella led the girl to Kief and Tarlna and introduced her to the older Dragonlords. The five of them chatted. The steward stood to one side, awaiting his lord's bidding.
Linden knew he was next to be introduced to the girl. He groaned, wondering if this one was a giggler. That was better than those who stood before him terrified, as if he might Change and gobble them up. At least he thought it was better.
He waited politely as Peridaen bore down on him, the girl following. He inclined his head, saying, "Your Highness."
Peridaen made him a small bow. "Your Grace, may I present my lady Anstella's daughter, Sherrine of Colrane?"
As the girl held out her hand, Peridaen excused himself.
Mentally cursing Peridaen for trapping him like this, Linden turned his attention to the girl and took the proffered hand, bracing himself for whatever might follow. As she made him a courtesy, he absently noted that she had beautiful auburn hair. The heady scent of wood lilies came to him.
The girl raised her head. Long lashes hid her downcast eyes.
Linden started in surprise. Gods, the girl was breath-taking. He'd seldom seen such beauty. "My lady Sherrine, it is a pleasure to meet you." He hoped for once the words were more than polite emptiness; it would be a pity if she proved a fool.
Her gaze met his. To his surprise, she neither giggled nor gasped. Instead her slanted hazel eyes held cool amusement. Their look intrigued him. Without realizing it he bent closer.
"You honor me, Dragonlord. I thank you." Her voice was low, pleasing to the ears.
Was that a laugh he heard behind her words? She took her hand back a moment before he wanted to release it.
"I would welcome you to Cassori, Your GraceЧ" she tilted her head "Чbut I'm certain you've heard it too many times already this evening." She smiled then, a mischievous smile that both conspired and commiserated.
He grinned. This girl had spirit. "Perhaps; then again, perhaps not, my lady. If youЧ"
But someone else, with daughter, niece or sister in tow, was fast approaching. Linden cursed under his breath.
Sherrine laughed, a sound as delightful as a rippling brook, and made him another courtesy. "Perhaps, Your Grace," she said, her tone gently mocking him, "we shall meet again."
Sherrine spun away before he could stop her, looking back over her shoulder to arch an eyebrow at him. She disappeared down the other stairs as the Duchess of Blackwood shoved her terrified daughter into his arms.
When he had disentangled himself from the girl and freed himself from her mother's tenacious grasp, Linden went to look over the rail. For once he was oblivious to the commotion below. His eyes searched the crowd for a mane of auburn hair.
Sherrine was nowhere to be found.
He drank, taking his time to empty the goblet. There had been a challenge in Sherrine's look as she'd left him, as plain as if she'd spoken it aloud: You will see me again when I wish it.
Her boldness amused him. So did her challenge; he rather thought he'd enjoy playing her gameЧand letting her win. PerhapsЧjust perhapsЧit would help to ease the loneliness. He put his goblet down and set off down the stairs.
Maurynna cradled the brass astrolabe in her arms. She'd taken her reading long before but couldn't bring herself to return to her cabin. For the past two nights it had felt like a cage. On the deck, with the familiar emptiness of starry sky and black ocean, her conflicting desires didn't crowd so close.
By sunset tomorrow they should be far enough to catch the Great Current that would carry them first north, then east along the shores of the northern kingdoms. Next port of call was Casna and whatever decision she would come to there. The thought scared the daylights out of her.
Ever since Otter had told her of his intent to journey north to Dragons-keep, she'd been tormented by a hunger to go with him. To everyone's surpriseЧespecially her ownЧshe'd proposed leading a trading expedition overland to the north.
You've worked so hard to get your own ship, she scolded herself, and at the first chance to see a Dragonlord you're ready to abandon it. And for what? Otter's friend might not even be thereЧOtter admitted as much himself. And even if that friend is Linden Rathan, what's to say that you'd even like him? Maybe, just maybe, it's sometimes better to let a dream stay just that,
But. . . Dragonlords! Especially the Dragonlord from all the tales she liked the bestЧeven if he hadn't yet Changed in the stories with Rani eo'Tsan and Bram Wolfson.
Maybe this was the time to chase a dream.