"Briggs, Patricia - Sianim 2 - Steal the Dragon.text" - читать интересную книгу автора (Briggs Patricia)

With an imperious gesture, Lord Jarroh summoned a waiter carrying a tray full of
empty glasses. His cool voice was decisive enough to carry over the growing chaos
in the room.

"Send a groom and an extra horse to the healer in the village. Tell him it's urgent,
Lord Karsten is ill." His voice had a bite that sent the waiter running out, heedless of
the few glasses that fell from his tray to the floor and shattered.

Lord Jarroh's eye fell on Rialla and he summoned her to him as well. "Go to the
kitchens and have one of the maids bring up clean cloths, hot and cold water. Find a
house servant and tell him to bring blankets." If she hadn't seen the muscle jump in
the side of his face, Rialla would have thought Lord Jarroh as unaffected as he
looked.

Rialla ran off to follow Lord Jarroh's orders with as much speed as the waiter
had shown. Lord Jarroh's name had the same magic as his voice: all Rialla did was
mention who sent her and the house and kitchen servants scrambled to obey. She
was on her way back to the dining hall when she noticed a stranger in servant's garb
slip out of the room.

It wouldn't have caught her attention, since Lord Jarroh had been in the process
of emptying the room of unnecessary onlookers when she left, except she didn't
recognize the man's face. Rialla thought she knew all the indoor servants in
Westhold, at least by sight. This was one she'd never seen, but he strolled down the
hall as if he'd been born here.

Rialla glanced casually around to make sure that no one was in the hall, and then


started after him. In the broad corridors of the main floor of the keep it was difficult
to follow without being seen, but the servant didn't seem to notice her. He sauntered
casually to an omate brass-and-wood door that led outside and left the keep.

He walked around the side of the building to the stable yard where the hold
livestock was kept. Rialla hesitated; there were not many reasons that a slave would
be wandering through the stable. She was bound to be questioned, and she wasn't
sure that it was worth calling attention to herself. Before she made a decision, the
servant returned from the stable mounted on a well-bred courser he must have had
saddled and waiting.

Rialla watched him ride at a nonchalant trot to the outer gates. As he passed
through, another horse bolted into the courtyard, lathered and blown. To Rialla's
surprise its rider pulled it to a skidding halt next to where she stood, just outside the
ostentatious door.

She had little chance for anything other than a brief glimpse of the man's bearded
face and the impression that he was big. He swung down, shoved the reins at her
and yanked the saddlebags off his mount.

"Take him to the stables and see that he's cared for," he ordered shortly. Without