"Debra Doyle & James MacDonald - Mageworlds 03 - By Honor Betray'd" - читать интересную книгу автора (Doyle Debra)

crumble before it yields up anything more to you. Now go.тАЭ
sus-Airaalin shook his head. тАЬNo. I will have it.тАЭ
 He put his hands against the blank wall and pushed with all the strength in his shoulders.
Wood and stone cried out under the strain, but nothing moved. The ground shifted underneath his
feet in a queasy sideways slide, and an upward glance showed him that the plaster ceiling had broken into
a thousand tiny cracks. White dust fell onto his hair and shoulders in a powdery rain, and the walls began
sliding and tilting against one another at odd angles like paper cards.
sus-Airaalin abandoned his efforts and ran. Behind him in the swaying, ransacked fortress, the
old man kept on laughing.
With a desperate surge of effort, the Grand Admiral pulled himself away from the treacherous
architecture of RansomeтАЩs mind. When his vision cleared, he was back in the physical reality of the
flagshipтАЩs detention level, still standing where he had planted his feet at the beginning of the struggle. His
staff lay untouched on the floor.
Across from him, Errec Ransome slumped against the wall of the cell. Fresh blood trickled from
the Adept MasterтАЩs nostrils, and from the corners of his eyes. But when he straightened and met
sus-AiraalinтАЩs gaze, there was a dark triumph on his face.
тАЬNot yet, my lord sus-Airaalin,тАЭ he said. тАЬNot yet.тАЭ

part one
i. gyfferan farspace: nightтАЩs-beautiful-daughter;
suivi point: entiboran resistance headquarters; warhammer; nammerin: namport

OUT ON the farthest edge of Gyfferan-controlled space, the texture of the universe stretched
and altered. Like a shadow against the stars, the flattened black teardrop shape of a Deathwing raider
emerged from hyperspace. Minutes later a second ship appeared. This one displayed the bright colors
and needle-sharp outline of a Space Force surface-to-hyperspace courier. Together, the mismatched
pair began their realspace run toward the heart of the Gyfferan system.
On board NightтАЩs-Beautiful-Daughter-for so the DeathwingтАЩs log recordings had named the
Magebuilt vessel-Mistress Llannat Hyfid wandered about the empty corridors, trying in vain to escape
her own increasing inner tension.
Llannat was a small woman, dark-haired and brown-skinned, and her appearance these days
implied enough contradictions to make anyone tense. She wore the black broadcloth tunic and trousers
that were an AdeptтАЩs formal garb; but her boots were Space Force standard issue, and instead of an
AdeptтАЩs plain wooden staff she carried the short, silver-bound ebony rod that was a MagelordтАЩs weapon
and badge of rank. The crew members on board the Deathwing avoided her as much as possible, out of
a respect that verged on superstitious awe.
The clothes and the staff donтАЩt help even a little with the main problem, she thought glumly.
Her wanderings had taken her to the shipтАЩs galley, where the smell of fresh chaтАЩa emanated from a bulky,
squarish urn. WeтАЩve got to make it to Gyffer without getting blown up by system defenses
programmed to fire on тАЬnervous.тАЭ
Llannat had given the order for the hyperspace transit herself. At least, everybody else on board
the Deathwing said that she had given it. She didnтАЩt recall doing any such thing; sheтАЩd been deep in a
trance at the time, observing the structure of the universe through a MagelordтАЩs eyes.
And now IтАЩve got the whole damned crew looking at me like they expect me to go crazy or
work a miracle, or maybe both at once . . .
She abandoned her search for a mug and pressed the heels of her hands against her temples.
тАЬI have a headache,тАЭ she said aloud.
Her words sounded flat and dull against the echo-absorbent walls of the DeathwingтАЩs galley. She
saw a movement in the doorway: Lieutenant Vinhalyn, Space Force reservist and scholar of Mageworlds
language and culture, the acting captain of NightтАЩs-Beautiful-Daughter.