"Rawn, Melanie - Dragon Star 2 - Dragon Token" - читать интересную книгу автора (Dragon Stories)

It was a name only slightly less momentous than Chay's as far as these men were concerned. And it had nothing to do with Maarken's position as Battle Commander; he was the heir to Radzyn, and Radzyn controlled the silk trade.

Nemthe's throat worked convulsively, as if trying to swallow a large lump of something exceedingly vile. Through gritted teeth he managed, "I would beЧ happyЧto vacate this chamber for Lord Maarken, my lady." It was clear that no one else would be acceptable.

"And I mine, for Lord Chaynal," Tormichin added smoothly, and Nemthe's expression positively curdled.

"Oh, thank you," Ruala said in a rush, and made her exit. Quickly.

Rohan's law! she told herself as she hurried to her own chambers where she could laugh herself silly. Never do yourself what you can get someone else to do for you!

By early evening the tale of Nemthe's recalcitrance had spread. Not wishing to be seen in the same shameful light, the others were falling all over themselves vying for which highborn would get their chambers. Ruala's steward had promised Walvis and Feylin four times, and young Prince Daniv at least six.

"Lovely," Audrite sighed happily as they sat over taze that night. "I admit I wondered why you bothered with that old fool Tormichin. You gained something else, too, I think. Nemthe only said what they're all thinking about why Stronghold was lost. But after the way he said it, none of the others will mention it for fear of sounding like him."

Ruala propped a foot on her chair, rubbing at a scuff on her boot. "That's just it. They are all thinking itЧ and at some point Pol's going to hear it. Will the Vellant-'im march on Skybowl next? Can he keep us safe?" Hesitating a moment, she darted a glance at the older woman and said, "I hope Nemthe does say something to Pol."

Chadric, who had been listening in silence, turned from the windows. "You want us to leave," he said softly.

"No! Not you." Ruala shook her head firmly. "You're not afraid. But they areЧand there's no room for their kind of fear in this war."

"It's not their fault. They feel helpless." He shrugged tired shoulders. "I understand that."

"So do I," she admitted. "They've lost what they had. I'm still in possession of what's mineЧand I intend to keep it. But I can't concentrate on that if I'm worried with feeding them and keeping them from each other's throats. It sounds cold, but there it is."

"It's only practical, my dear," Chadric told her.

"They'll be safer elsewhere, anyway. Let Nemthe offend with his accusations and demands. If I know Pol, he'll make it impossible for Nemthe to do anything but leave, and make him think it was all his own doing."

"I think you misjudge Pol's subtlety," Audrite cautioned. "Dearly as I love him, he's not his father."

"Then we'll have to do it for him." She stretched the knotted muscles of her neck and sighed. "Oh, by the way, I do owe Master Nemthe for what might be a good idea. What about using some of the caves at Thread-silver? They're not convenient to the keep, but they're snug and can hold quite a few people."

Chadric exchanged a smile with his wife. When Ruala looked puzzled, he said, "You've never read Lady Meri-sel's histories? During their less successful years, the Sunrunners hid out with the Isulk'im in dragon caves all through these hills."

"Put Lord Kazander and his people in Threadsilver," Audrite suggested. "They'll feel right at home!"

*

Rihani knew he must have fallen off his horse in the middle of battle; he could think of no other reason why he was flat on his back when there was work to be done. Killing to be done. His cloak wrapped him in soggy foldsЧdamn the Vellant'im for attacking in the rainЧ and he struggled against it, trying to rise. His wounded thigh ached, but not too badly. What defeated him was a terrible weariness that made him fear he'd received some other hurt. What was it he'd heard at Catha Heights about head injuries? They could make one sleepy, and one must not sleep or one might never waken againЧ

He forced his eyes open. Light hurt, dim and faraway as it was. It must be nearing dusk. When had he fallen? Turning his head, he froze at the sight of a dark face, brown of hair and eye, and with a straggly beard. With

a cry of fear and hate he flailed out at the man, the enemy, the murderer of his father's brother.

The man saw the blow coming a measure off and evaded it easily. "Rihani! Come on now, your fever's gone. I thought you'd given up hitting anything you could reach."

"Saumer?" he breathed, then collapsed back into the pillows. The face above him was as familiar as his own, but for the one alteration. "When did you grow that?"

"What? Oh, this." Saumer grinned and stroked his upper lip. "There hasn't been time to shave. Besides, you should see your own. Can you sit up? They tell me you ought to eat something."