"Brian Daley - Doomfarers of Coramonde" - читать интересную книгу автора (Daley Brian)

and Desenge described their encounter with a peculiar Alebowrenian whom they thought resembled
you, I went to your room to investigate."
With this he brought his blade into line and moved forward on the Prince, who retreated a step,
still hoping for the chance to break away and avoid a duel. To delay further, he said, "You and
Fania and Bey forget one thing: Strongblade is still my father's son. It may be that he won't bend
to your plans as readily as you think."
That brought the blademaster up short, but his face was filled with glee, not doubt. "Idiot
child," he scoffed, "your 'stepbrother' is not Surehand's son, he is Yardiff Bey's! D'you think
that's a hard thing for the greatest mage in the world to accomplish? It was no more difficult
than slaying your mother by his arts; and those stupid Court physicians, how easily they were
misled. He'd groomed Fania almost since birth for the one task of marrying your father andтАФhi!тАФhow
it vexed him that just as he was about to introduce her at Court, Sure-hand married another. Well,
all's remedied and things are on their proper course. Your father was well taken with Fania, even
in his mourning, but on their wedding eve it was Yardiff Bey's seed in her belly; Strongblade is
no part of your lineage. Bey's victory over the Crescent Lands will rest on three children of his
body, the first a girl-child, the second male and the third both and neither,"
Eliatim told the tale with huge relish, enjoying its effect on Springbuck, venting long-checked
hatred. "He
Of Deaths, Of Departure
31
purchased my soul, yes, but I'm satisfied with the bargain. We two closed a pact long and long ago
on the High Ranges when the Horseblooded had cast me out, and he brought me to Earthfast when you
were a week old. I've served him well and waited out this hour. When you're deadтАФfew questions
will be raised about your disappearance, I thinkтАФI go on to better things and vengeance of my
own."
He giggled again, a thing seldom heard from grim Eliatim. "But I keep digressing. Let us tally
what you've learned from my lessons, for in one wise I've been honorable; I was engaged to teach
you the arts of war and I have done it as best I could. Mayhap if you've paid sufficient attention
you'll yet keep your life."
And he advanced, all jocularity gone in the application of his trade. The Prince circled warily,
knowing that at his best he was not likely to match the other, who was himself something of a
magician hi matters of bared blades.
Then, unlocked for, came a violent gust of wind, so strong and cold that it might have come from
the straining lungs of an intervening deity, to blow out the little lantern and hurl a leafy
branch into the face of shocked Eliatim. He gave a startled curse and brought his free hand up
involuntarily. Springbuck knew that his chance had miraculously come. He had only to mount
Fireheel and wheel into the nearby wood to escape under mantle of night and storm. He'd already
gathered the gray's reins in hand when he stopped, for he was no longer alone with his foe in the
darkness. Rather, he saw those of whom the blademaster had spoken, his motherтАФor, more accurately,


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as he had no recollection of her, the pale death mask on her coffinтАФMicko and Duskwind. And over
all was the death of Hightower, merciless offi-ciation of Archog.
And all at once he felt the desire to sneak away, to escape like some hunted animal and leave more
unavenged deaths behind him, driven out before another emotion, as one incoming wave is broken and
scattered by the next. Shame drained his fright; fury made him contemptuous of his own
helplessness.