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

Gentle fingers clasped her shoulders, and she gave a start. "I didn't mean that, you know," Rohan said. "About being old."
"I know you didn't, but it's true." She met his gaze in the
irror. "Though it's hard to believe, looking at you. You've
mirror
gone all silvery instead of goldenЧthat's the only difference." "Liar. My bones creak and my right shoulder aches in the cold and my arms aren't long enough to hold parchments where I can read them."
16 Melanfe Rawn
"And last night all you could do in bed was sleep."
He grinned. "Well, I do seem to have a soft spot for elderly ladies."
"My dear decrepit azhrei, right now I haven't the slightest interest in your soft spots."
Quite some time later, he stretched and dug his toes into the cool silk of bunched sheets at the end of the bed. Using a strand of Sioned's long hair to tickle her shoulder, he whispered, "I think I saw it that time."
"Hmm?" she asked drowsily. "Saw what?"
"The colors."
She quivered with silent laughter. "Now we have the truth at last. He only makes love to the Sunrunner witch for the sake of intellectual curiosity."
"Certainly," he agreed. "You should never have told me what you see. I've been trying to catch a glimpse ever since."
"And did you?"
"Why don't we try it again and I'll let you know?"
The Gribains were growing impatient by the time Rohan and Sioned finally came downstairs for dinner in the Great Hall. Casual pleasantries were the order of conversation; the Gribains were firmly steered away from any formal discussion during the meal. Rohan knew why they were here. According to his habit, he had made no decision and would not until one presented itself. Though open discussion was prevented by Sioned's tact and Rohan's sporadic deafness whenever the subject was hinted at, he had not counted on the artless innocence of the squire who was serving at dinner.
Isriam was the only child of Sabriam of Einar and Isaura of Meadowlord, Prince Halian's niece. With his family connections and the wealth of his father's city, one day Isriam would be an important man. At sixteen he was a dark-ey^d, dark-haired, gawky adolescent possessed of not the slightest hint of subtlety. Rohan kept telling himself the boy would grow out of his awkwardness, but despaired of ever teaching him how to keep his every thought from his face and his every idea from spilling over into speech. As he served taze and cakes to the high table, Isriam asked, "Will your grace
STRONGHOLD 17
desire the Summer Room made ready for a conference with the Gribain ambassadors this evening?"
This was the perfect opening, and the courtier who had been sent by Prince Velden took advantage of it with practiced smoothness. "It is extremely wise of your grace to wish this unhappy matter settled as quickly as possible. We will, of course, make ourselves available to your grace immediately after dinner."
Rohan considered answering Isriam in the negative, then chided himself. He had spent most of the spring and all summer at play. He planned a trip to Radzyn in a few days that would extend the holiday well into autumn. He really ought to do a little work and earn the privilege of being bowed to and gossiped about behind his back. Deciding to give in, he replied with a smile, "That's very kind of you, Master Eschur. The journey from Grib is a tiring one. But if it suits, then yes, we'll meet in a little while."
"As your grace wishes," Eschur said with a slight bow. Rohan reflected that his name suited him; eyes with a "wolfs sight" he truly had,-yellowish and sharp. The High Prince did not anticipate a fun evening.
He was right. With Sioned at his side and Isriam attending themЧone could only hope he would learn somethingЧ Rohan listened as the Gribains presented their prince's views. The problem outlined to him was a reminder that whatever he had accomplished by way of codifying laws, he hadn't thought of everything. Not by any means.
The difficulty was one of inheritance. An Ossetian younger brother had married the heiress of a neighboring athri in Grib. It was agreed all around that the young man would forswear his allegiance to Prince Tilal and commit himself instead to Prince Velden. The athri had died this spring and the daughter and her husband had inherited. But the elder brother had recently suffered a serious head injury; he recognized no one and was subject to intermittent fits of violence. His heartbroken brother had reluctantly ordered him confined for his own safety and that of his people.
With the elder brother incapable of rule, the younger was the heir. But this would leave the young man with two holdings in two different princedomsЧwith two sets of loyalties. Should the lands be combined under one princedom? If so, which? Should they be kept separate against the day when sons would be born to take one holding each? Or

18 Melanie Rawn
should the man inherit only his own father's land, with the Gribain holding reverting to Prince Velden and being bestowed at his pleasure to someone else?
Tilal sent no emissary; nor had he come to Stronghold from Dragon's Rest, where he and his wife Gemma lingered to see their daughter Sioneva settled in for a long visit. Tilal had merely conveyed to Sioned through Pol that whatever was decided would be fine with him. Rohan thanked the Goddess for providing him with at least one prince who trusted him completely. Of course, Tilal was Sioned's nephew and had been Rohan's squire. His faith in the High Prince was a very personal thing, not to be confused with the sometimes wary acquiescence of others.
Fifty years ago, the two princedoms would have mustered armies by now and tested each other's commitment through a few skirmishes, consulting the High Prince only if neither force left the fieldЧand the holdingЧto the other. Roelstra would have been called on to stop a war already half begun. This time no one had even considered battle. Rohan was being asked to settle a difficulty of law. But he did not congratulate himself yet on the happy progress of civilization. If the High Prince's Writ could not provide a satisfactory solution, things could still degenerate into open conflict.
Still, at least they were talking about it instead of fighting. However often he accused himself of throwing words at a problem until it collapsed under their sheer weight, he was always reminded of something Chay had told him long ago: that those words were his armies, fighting battles without bloodshed, more effective than any swords or arrows. Rohan supposed this was true; he felt like a battleground often enough.
As anticipated, Velden wanted the property to revert to himself. This was couched in much flowery sympathy for the family and regret for not continuing a holding in the line that had held it so long. But the meaning was plain: Vetden wanted those valuable square measures, and he intended Rohan to take his side.
"We thank you for your statements," Rohan said when they were finished. "We will, of course, consider them very carefully."
Sioned coughed to hide what he knew was amusement at a speech she had heard a million times. Then she said, "I gather there is no objection to the young man's qualifications?"
STRONGHOLD 19
"None, your grace," Eschur said. "He is honest, capable, and well-liked."
"I'm glad to hear it," she replied warmly. "We must be careful that no insult is implied to his abilities. No matter what is decided, he will still be an athri and conscious of his honor as such." She paused, frowning slightly. "If our cousin of Grib did have the giving of this holding, who do you think it would go to, Master Eschur? Just to satisfy my curiosity, you understand."
Rohan wondered what she knew, or thought she knew. Eschur's wolfish eyes narrowed in a flash of some powerful emotion and a corner of his mouth twitched downward. He said, "I am not sufficiently in Prince Velden's confidence to know, your grace."
Sioned smiled in sweet sympathy. "Ah, yes, we princes must have our little secrets, mustn't we? How irritating it must be sometimes!"
"The ways of princes, your grace, are not to be questioned by mere common folk like myself."
A proper answer, delivered with the proper humility, but the whole byplay told Rohan what Sioned had guessed: Eschur himself coveted the holding and the title that went with it. Crafty of Velden, sending a man who wanted the lands to argue for them. If he gained them for his prince, they would be his reward.
But Master Eschur had something else to say. "His grace has. however, instructed me to make known to your royal highnesses that he would appreciate a consultation with Lord Andry."
Rohan kept startlement from his face. "To what purpose?"
"It is said that certain powerful faradh'im can see the future in a flame. Prince Velden considers that this might be a usefulЧ" Eschur's yellow gaze strayed to Sioned: a mistake. The look in her eyes deprived him of the power of speech.
She asked very softly, "And did Lord Andry volunteer his personal services for this little experiment in oracle reading? Or will any Sunrunner do?"
He swallowed hard, rallied, and managed, "Lord Andry reacted favorably to the suggestion. I meant no offense, your grace."
"We know precisely what you meant."
There were levels to Sioned's rage; Rohan had rarely seen