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

Setting down his cup, he said, "Listen to me, all of you. There are plenty of reasons why I'm able to leaveЧ the least of which is that I'm the Lord of Goddess Keep and can do as I like. The reasons that mean something are that Master Jayachin has her people under control now, as we saw today. There are some rough spots to be smoothed over, but in a crisis they'll do as they're

told. Torien, you can rule Goddess Keep perfectly well in my absence. You know how to use the ros'salath, there are two or three others now in training to strengthen itЧ if it even becomes necessary to use it, which I doubt.

"I'm not needed here. You know it and I know it. You're all so careful of the trappings of my position that only a few others have begun to suspect it. But once I'm gone, after a couple of days of nerves, they'll know it,

too." "I don't see how this is an advantage," Valeda

grumbled.

"But it is, you know," he said softly. "It's exactly as it should be, that I or anyone else in this position can be important but not essential. It's all Sunrunners who matter, not just one."

"Very modest and self-effacing," she retorted. "But it doesn't disguise the fact that we do have need of you."

"The Desert needs me more. Since Pol failed to protect Radzyn, they've learned a thing or two. But I'm the only one who can teach them what they must know so that we don't lose Skybowl and Feruche the way we lost Stronghold."

"We," Antoun murmured.

"Yes. Whatever our differences, I am still the son of my parents and the grandson of Prince Zehava. The Desert is my home, my birthplace. Nothing will ever uproot my heart."

Valeda shifted her shoulder. "I understand that, my Lord. I'm sorry for what I said earlier. But you know Pol won't welcome you. And in saving the Desert, you're saving his position as High Prince, too."

Andry had weighed the one against the other, finding the balance alarmingly evenЧuntil he thought of Rohan.

"Well," he drawled, "no plan is ever perfect."

She gave a complex snort, half of laughter and half of disgust. "Isn't it just? Which reminds me. Very soon winter fog and rain will wrap us tight and make Sunrunning impossible. How will we keep track of you?"

"I'll send to you as often as I can. To others here and there as the sunlight permits, so they can tell you when

they've got time. I won't have much to spare." Glancing at the water clock by the doorway, he said, "And now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment for dinner. Torien, would you see that Jayachin has an escort? She's never been farther than the courtyard before."

"And shouldn't be now." Valeda's eyes were bright and hard as polished steel. "She'll play you for a fool, Andry. Anyone can see it."

With a shrug, he answered, "She can try."

*

When Amiel of Gilad was a little boy, he had delighted in flouting his birth to his playmates at Medawari. Though they were all sons and daughters of highborns, he would one day be their prince and he never let them forget it. When his father told him that Pol had expressed an interest in fostering him at Dragon's Rest, Amiel was quite unsurprised. He was himself a prince, his father's only son, and that he should be chosen as a squire to the next High Prince was entirely fitting. He was, after all, an important person.

This attitude was tolerated for exactly three days at Dragon's Rest. On the fourth, his fellow squire, Edrel of River UsshЧa year older and a handspan tallerЧgave him a salutary lesson in humility and fistfighting.

Amiel's scornful dislike of Edrel changed to an active loathing that increased with every throb of his blackened eye. Pol ignored both emotion and injury, which outraged Amiel. As the heir to Gilad, his worth was infinitely superior to Edrel's. The mere second son of an athri, Edrel had no prospects of wealth or position beyond what he could marry. And at fourteen, he looked unlikely to attract any girl above the rank of scullery drudgeЧand would be lucky to get that much attention.

Life at Dragon's Rest was not what Amiel had expected. His father had emphasized that he must serve his new lord diligently in all things, of course. But cleaning the mud from Pol's boots and mucking out his favorite horse's stall were beneath Amiel's princely dignity. So,

emphatically, was any association with Edrel. As senior squire, the older boy had full authority over him. And

used it.