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

Peridaen said, "Linden Rathan is the only Dragonlord without a soul-twin. I had joked earlier about a love philterЧ"
This was a gift from the gods. "There is no need of a love philter," Sherrine said. "If, as you say, the tall Dragonlord has no soultwin, surely he is lonely.
"Am I not my mother's daughter, my lords? Her very image I am told. And you would not deny her loveliness, would you? Bards have sung of it." She favored her mother with a smile that had no mirth, knowing how it galled AnstellaЧwho was without blemishЧthat her daughter should be held her equal in beauty.
Abandoning all pretense of modesty, Sherrine continued, "Think you this lonely Dragonlord will refuse a dalliance with the most beautiful young woman at court? I will ensnare him, learn all that I may from him, find out how we may strike at them."
She folded her hands and waited. She had no doubt of her ability to do as she'd said.
"Of all the stupid ..." Anstella began.
Expected though they were, the words cut her. She wished that for once her mother would bestow her ungrudging approval. But as much as she desired it, this time it was not her mother's approval that was of vital importance.
It was the prince's approval that she neededЧand still more, she suspected, Althume's. While her mother and Prince Peridaen argued, Sherrine studied the supposed steward's profile as he traced a pattern with one long finger on the table.
He was thin to the point of gauntness; his heavy-lidded eyes looked bored, even sleepy. Light brown hair winged back from his temples, falling straight to his shoulders. His nose was straight with flaring nostrils.
His clothes, as always, were somberЧdark grey and greenЧand conservative in cut. Not for him the more fantastical parti-colored tunics of the court dandies. He dressed, Sherrine decided, to remain unobtrusive; there was nothing about him to catch one's eye, to imprint him in one's memory.
He had made only one mistake in his chosen role: the quality of the cloth from which his garments were cut. It was far too expensive for a man supposedly living on the prince's charity; Sherrine knew Peridaen was not that generous.
She found it an interesting error. Unconscious vanity? An unwillingness to sacrifice those luxuries he considered his due? She would find out in time; for now she knew the man was more than he seemed.
As if to confirm her speculations, Althume shifted in his chair. Immediately her mother and the prince ceased their debate and turned to him.
He murmured, "We've nothing to lose if she doesn't succeed." He rested his chin on his steepled fingers, looking thoughtful.
The baroness opened her mouth as if to argue. Althume glanced at her, however, and she shut it with a snap.
That impressed Sherrine more than anything she had yet seen of the man.
Peridaen said mildly, "Hmm. True, Kas, but.. .We appreciate your unselfish sacrifice, my lady, but if upon thinking further about it you find it repellant and wish to withdrawЧ"
The memory of Linden Rathan's face came back to her. She almost laughed aloud. Sacrifice? Now she could have what she desired while advancing her status in the Fraternity. She congratulated herself on her cleverness.
"For the sake of the Fraternity, my prince, anything may be endured," she murmured.
The prince looked again to the other man. Althume shrugged and nodded. The fire in her mother's eye boded ill for someone, but Sherrine knew the older woman dared not forbid her now. She'd won.
Woe to the first servant to cross my lady mother, she thought with mock sympathy.
Prince Peridaen stood up. Sherrine hastened to rise. So did Anstella. Althume did not.
For the second time in less than a candlemark, Peridaen ignored a breach of royal etiquette. Sherrine's curiosity nearly choked her.
Stroking his beard, Peridaen said, "The Dragonlords will be feasted tomorrow night. I will see that you're introduced to Linden Rathan. You will see to it that he becomes interested in you.
"We shall talk to you again tomorrow." He held out his hand to Anstella. "Come, my dear; we must go on to the palace."
Head bowed, Sherrine dropped a low courtesy as the prince and her lady mother passed. They left the room without a backward glance. She rose.
Althume stood before her.
As her gaze met his directly for the first time, Sherrine's skin crawled.
She had never seen such cold eyes. Her breath caught in her chest. It was as if she'd fallen through ice and was drowning in the frigid water below.
In a whisper like dead leaves blowing across slate, he said, "RememberЧthis is for the Fraternity." Then he was gone.
She stumbled back to her seat and drank the rest of her wine in a single gulp. She knew now; gods help her, she knew what the man was. Despite the summer heat she shivered. And wondered if she hadn't been too clever.

Six

"So, you got your way." Sherrine rose and turned from her mirror to find her mother standing in the doorway. Tandavi quietly laid the hairbrush down and slunk off to a corner. "Indeed I did, Mother."
Gods, how that must rankle; Sherrine gloated inside.
"See that you don't fail."
"Why should I? Am I so ugly, then?" Sherrine asked, all innocence. If there was one insult her mother never offered her, it was that.
Her mother studied her for a moment. "Oh, you might catch his fancy for a time. Just until he sees past your face."
There was a note in the older woman's voice that alerted Sherrine. "Why, MotherЧI do believe you're jealous."
Anstella stormed into the chamber, hand raised. But even as she drew it back, she checked herself.
"No, it wouldn't do to mark me, would it?" Sherrine said. "Not this night." Victory rushed to her head like strong wine as she watched her mother seethe with impotent fury.
At last her mother managed to say, "Time will see me right." Without another word Anstella turned and swept gracefully from the room.
"Not this time," said Sherrine as she sat before the mirror again. "Not this time." She clapped her hands. "Tandavi! Finish my hair."
As Tandavi ran the brush through her hair once more, Sherrine laid her plans.
Her hands trembled as she fitted the key to the lock of the chest. If Beren found her here, all was lost. Yet all those who could were at the feast, hoping for a glimpse of the Dragonlords. It was now or never.
There! The lock clicked open. Lady Beryl threw open the chest. To her dismay, it was filled with parchment scrolls. Oh, dear godsЧwas she going to have to examine each one?
A sound from the hall outside made her jump. She pressed a hand to her breast; beneath it, her heart hammered and thumped wildly. But the noise wasn't repeated, and no one came in. At last she remembered to breathe again.
This was much harder than she'd thought it would be. But she couldn't trust anyone else with it. It was too important. Her lord had to have the time.
She only hoped she wasn't hurting his cause; she'd not discussed her plan with him. She looked in the chest once more. This time she made herself think rationally.