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

then spied the figureтАФdifficult to discern, since his vision was somewhat weak at a distanceтАФof
the famous and formidable Duke Rolph Hightower.
The Prince's entrance must have interrupted an exchange. With the note of one resuming a train of
thought, the Queen said, "And here now is our stepson, come at his own good time from sulking
alone in our gardens." Her voice was rich, vibrant, but always cold and closed to Springbuck,
however, much he'd tried to ingratiate himself to her. Still flanked by the two guardsmen, he
forebore to reply; Fania was as expert at these skirmishes as his instructor in arms, Eiiatim, was
with the sword
"He cringes from meeting Strongblade in combat,'* she persisted, "and would like to think up a way
to avoid battle, but take the throne of the Ku-Mor-Mai nevertheless. But he will not! Not while my
son and I live."
At this the Prince struggled to master his anger, refusing to be drawn into another contest of
words with Fania. But the powerful voice of Duke Hightower rose then, with an edge to it to prove
that he and the Queen had already had their differences that night.
"Who would not, facing a death under these circumstances?" he countered. "I'm very sure that Your
Grace means what she says, that you mean for Strongblade to rule, but any man with sense in his
head and a bit of spine might question the truth of your motives and the legality of this pending
duel."
Springbuck studied the Duke, who stood defiant and alone in the exact center of the wide floor.
Not Springbuck's friend particularly, he had still been a staunch ally and supporter of the
Prince's father, though rarely a visitor to Court. He was even more conspicuous than usual in
these surroundings, tall and broad-shouldered, contrasting the gleaming finery of the courtiers
with plain, service-worn traveler's attire of gray. He bore an unadorned broadsword at his side
and a cap held sol-
Of Deaths, Of Departure 7
dierly in the crook of his left arm. Greaved legs widespread, he set his right fist on his hip and
glared at Fania without deference. The lantern jaw was set, the high forehead creased by beetling
brows and beneath the flaring mustachios the Duke's mouth was drawn into something dangerously
resembling a snee'r of contempt, displaying large horse-teeth.


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"Legality," Fania said, rolling the word off her tongue with a kind of languorous menace. "The
Duke implies that I'm committing some crime? Hightower, who comes so seldom to our councils, would
now countermand me? Too long has his insolence gone unchecked, I think."
The Duke's voice was brittle with rage. "Insolence? Insolence?" He slammed his chest with a
battered, vein-mapped fist. "/ am Coramonde's bastion in the East; from the shadows of Spearcrest
to the foot of the Keel of Heaven I am the arm and eyes of Coramonde! How many times has my family
defended our stone donjon with our lives at risk? Do you even know, you who were born in another
country? I have paid my homage, aye, and paid again. Who questions Hightower's right to say his
say at Earthfast?"
Fania couldn't speak to this, nonplussed in the face of truth so furiously set forth. But an
inhumanly calm voice spoke next, one that had always sent fear shooting through every inch of
Springbuck's being. He didn't have to turn or squint to know that "it was Yardiff BeyтАФYardiff Bey
who was a figure of awe even among other sorcerers.
The Prince knew that he could never have emulated Hightower, who looked to where Bey stood, near
the Queen, and met that mesmerizing stare without qualm. Bey's dark countenance was transformed
into something unearthly by the eerie ocular of green malachite and silver that he wore in