"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 1 - Stronghold" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

"Stop flirting with my wife, or I'll tell the three you already have," Walvis chided. "You didn't bring the lovely ladies with you, by any chance?"
"So that you might seduce them? May the Goddess in her wisdom dry up my seed if I was ever so foolish as that!" He settled into his saddle, pleased with the exchange of insults, and looked mournful. "But my heart is wounded, I may die of it. You are holding a war and didn't invite me!"
"A thousand apologies, Kazander. Would you like to play tomorrow? My eighty against your fifty. You always said one of your warriors unarmed is worth two of mine with sword and bow, so the odds are in your favor."
Kazander's dark eyes narrowed. "Your words are silk covering a stinking corpse. What are you planning to shame me with now, mighty athri?"
"Don't ask me, ask my lady wife. It was her idea."
The man moaned and rolled his eyes skyward. "Goddess witness it, a woman with a brain is more dangerous than a whole army!" He waggled a long finger at Feylin. "And it is your fault I have wives with more between their ears than praises of my name! Association with you in my boyhood caused me to value women with wits. Why did I never realize that when that sort of woman belongs to another man, she is a delightЧbut when she is your own, you live in misery?"
Feylin gave him her sweetest smile. "Oh, yes, you seem desperately miserable, KazanderЧcomplacent as a dragonsire watching his get, and looking as if you'd said farewell to your wives so fondly that you rubbed all the skin off yourЧ"
"Feylin!" Walvis exclaimed.
Kazander was roaring with laughter. "I adore you! Come away with me, Lady of the Dragons, I will make you first among my wives!"
"Make me the only one and I'll consider it."
"But what would I do with the others?" he wailed. "They would surely die if deprived of my presence!"
"That's the bargain, you honey-tongued devil," she purred.
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"You think it over while you sleep in the stables tonight You really are the most inconvenient and inconsiderate guest," she went on in disgruntled tones. "There's nothing ready for you yet." This was a bald-faced lie and they al knew it. Remagev was ready at all times for visitors, anc twice the fifty Kazander had brought could be housed ir luxurious comfort.
"To be within seeing distance of your splendor, even the korrus would sleep in a dung heap," Kazander replied, hanc once more over his heart.
Feylin gave an appreciative giggle, then resumed her role "It offends me to honor you with even that much. You've deliberately shamed me, and for the insult you'll bed dowr with your horse tonight."
Walvis grinned. "That's no hardship, FeylinЧhe prefen his horse."
He rode down the hill to reorganize his troops before Kazander could frame a reply. He greeted those among the Isulk'im he knew, told his fuming young warriors to escorl their guests back to Remagev, and waited for Feylin and Kazander to join him.
Walvis always looked forward to these encounters with the young man he'd fostered during boyhood. The same age as Walvis' son Jahnavi, Kazander was the korrusЧ"battle leader"Чof the agglomeration of Desert nomads known as the Isulk'im. Although Zehava's line had sprung from them and fifteen generations ago they had seized Stronghold and made it their capital, the original prince's brother had had no taste for politics and settled living. He had taken those oi their people who longed for the old life and returned to the vast wastes of the Long Sand, there to herd goats and relish their freedom. They were, as Walvis' teasing implied, mad about horses, some of which looked very like certain Radzyn stallions that had vanished mysteriously over the years. Isulki raiders sometimes stole a particularly fine stud from Chay's very stables and then, once their own mares had been serviced, sent the stallion home. They were never caught; the name did not mean "swift ones" for nothing. But neithei was there any retaliation for these occasional thieveries; it was longstanding tradition that Radzyn supplied its ruling family with the finest horses, and the Isulk'im were only claiming their share.
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Inevitably, the Isulki population had split into factions as it grew. With equal inevitability, they warred over who had rights to which endless ranks of sand dunes. But ever since 695, when Zehava had been helped by his distant kin to victory over the Merida, they had organized into a loose confederation of tribes. Kazander's great-grandsire had become their korrus. Though formally submitting to Zehava's leadership and sovereignty, he and his people kept to themselves in the vastness of the Long Sand, an isolation that had spared them the Plague of 701. They sent several warriors to fight with Rohan against Roelstra in 704, and every so often an emissary arrived at Stronghold or Radzyn or Remagev with a gift of gorgeous blankets or carved jade.
"Just to let the High Prince know we're still out here," Kazander's father had said once, blithely, when presenting Walvis with a fabulous necklace for Feylin in celebration of Jahnavi's birth. "I have a new son myself, by my favorite wife. She is as wild as a she-dragon, so I worry about the boy's capacity for civilization. Perhaps when he is of an age for it and has learned what manners I can beat into him, you might consent to receive him here."
Thus, casually, they had agreed to Kazander's sojourn at Remagev. He had arrived ten winters ago, a lanky, wide-eyed boy of sixteen who had learned to ride before he had learned to walk. In him were embodied the things Walvis liked best about the Isulk'im: their mastery of the affectionate insult, their fierce pride, and their humor. To that list Feylin always added their love of dragons and their hatred of the Merida. She was from the north, where the descendants of the assassins' league were more familiar enemies than here in the south. But her undying loathing paled beside the rage mere mention of the Merida could excite in the Isulk'im. Their songs and tales told of shocking atrocities and it was the sworn duty of the tribes to butcher any Merida unlucky enough to encounter them.
Kazander had stayed at Remagev through the autumn of 729, and despite his youth had insisted on being trained in the ways of battle. The annual little war had seen him fight all day long with a broken collarbone and two cracked ribs; Walvis had been given undeniable proof that claims of Isulki valor were not in the least exaggerated. Since then, Kazander had appeared at Remagev every so often, sometimes alone
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and sometimes, as now, with an escortЧjust to let the High Prince know the Isulk'im were still out there.
He had succeeded his father two years ago. Walvis had not seen him since that time, though he received news occasionally. As they rode back to the castle, he looked the young man over and nodded to himself. "Marriage and new fatherhood agree with you," he commented.
"How did you know I am a father again?"
"Because if you didn't keep fathering children, you wouldn't still be korrus," Walvis replied with irrefutable logic. "How many is it now?"
"Three sons, two daughters," came the proud answer. "Another will be born next spring."
"However do you manage it?" Feylin asked indelicately, then made a face as Kazander gave her a long, slow smile. "I didn't mean that! And don't you dare offer to teach me, you wicked boy. I meant, why is it that your women bear so many children? I can't think of anyone who's had more than four."
"The late unlamented Lady Palila birthed six," Walvis reminded her.
"One of whom inflicts herself on us as Princess of Meadowlord," she agreed. "But she only has two."
"It's quite simple," Kazander said. "Our women have more children because our men prove the strength of their siring. The more children, the more wivesЧif he earns them in battle and in bed. Sometimes I wonder which can be the most dangerous." Then he grinned. "But I have a special secret. My girls are twins!"
Twins were uncommon among the Isulk'im. Walvis congratulated his young friend warmly. "Tell my wife you named one of them after her or she'll be heartbroken."
"One? Both! Feylani and Feylina I called them, and alike as dragons hatched from the same shell." Kazander shook his head sadly. "If I cannot have you, then at least I can torment my soul with hearing the echoes of your name."
"I truly am honored, Kazander," she said sincerely. "And for that, you'll get a decent bed after all. How old are they now? And what about the boys?"
Discussion of his growing family took them all the way to the walls of Remagev. As ever, Walvis felt his heart lift at the sight. He had first come here in the spring of 704 with Rohan. That royal progress had ended near Skybowl when
58 Melanie Rawn
lanthe's men had kidnapped the prince to Feruche. But before the horror of Rohan's imprisonment, they had spent several days with his distant cousin HadaanЧa fiery old warrior whose many battles with the Merida had cost him an eye. Hadaan had no children, and although Walvis had not known it at the time, the old man had a mind to making him the heir. In early 705 Walvis had been named the future Lord of Remagev and, once it had been made clear to him that he was going to marry Feylin, had done just that and taken up residence.
The keep had been built in days long past by Zehava's ancestors. It was one of what had once been a string of castles reaching all the way to the Sunrise Water. The encroaching Desert had gradually made all of them but Remagev insupportable. But it had been in terrible shape, for Hadaan was more warrior than athri.
"I'm no good at peace," Hadaan had said frankly. "Give me a sword and I'm a happy man, but this business of glass and smeltersЧbah! Rohan's taught you the trick of it, and welcome. You're athri here from this moment on, boy. Just send your pretty wife to flirt with me sometimes, and otherwise forget I'm here."
They had done no such thingЧthough Feylin flirted with great enjoyment. For all his professed lack of interest in peaceful pursuits, what Hadaan didn't know about Remagev and the surrounding sands wasn't worth knowing. In the years remaining to him he involved himself in rebuilding the keep, supervising improvements, cheerfully harassing everyone, and watching proudly with his one good eye as Remagev turned into a thriving castle. His death, when Sionell was six and Jahnavi three, had been deeply mourned.
Remagev was and always would be only a minor keep on the fringes of Desert civilization. It had no fine, proud towers like Radzyn, no bustling town like Tiglath, no elegance of design like Feruche. It was a squat, square defensive castle, hunkered atop one rocky hill and abutting another like a huge sandy dragon. But it belonged to Walvis, and he loved it fiercely.
His eighty men and Kazander's fifty lined the road to the main gates, each faction taking one side, to honor the two lords and the lady who rode past. Walvis met his guards commander at the gate and gave instructions for the comfort
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and housing of their guests. Feylin promised to make short work of tending the wounds acquired in today's battle and join them later.
Remagev did boast one architectural excellence. The double staircase branching up from the main hall was a miracle of grace in this otherwise undistinguished keep. Steps rose in wide arcs that met on a broad landing, whence five more steps led to the second floor. Walvis and Kazander mounted the right-hand stairs just as a girl ran down the left side, frantically pinning up her long golden braids. Walvis grinned as his guest frankly stared.
"Gentle Goddess, Mother of Dragons," Kazander whispered as he turned to watch the girl vanish through the main doors.
"I see the Lady Chayla has supplanted my wife in your affections," Walvis murmured.