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

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Walvis stood alone on the lakeshore, watching moonlight dance across the water. A hundred million fragments of shifting brightness, there and gone and there again: a great liquid mirror, shattered. Pol had spoken in the Court of the Storm God, his words remembering Rohan for them all. There had been another ritual here the night after they arrived. Ruala, as Lady of Skybowl, had brought her people down to the lake as was the custom, and they had stood silent vigil until midnight, leaving their candles embedded in the sand. But now it was just Walvis, alone with his own remembering amid hundreds of candles, as dead and burned as Rohan at Stronghold.

He didn't want to think of that. He wanted to see his prince as he had seen and served him for forty years. Ever since a rather ragged, definitely unlettered boy had caught the attention of the Desert's heir.

It had been during a hunting party organized by Lord ChaynalЧbored by the second spring in a row of peace, with no Merida to fight and no Rialla that year to distract him. Prince Rohan, barely twenty, hadn't even been visible next to the Lord of Radzyn's powerful presence as they rode through the village where Walvis' father was nominal athri. So amazed was a twelve-year-old boy at the sight of the great lord and his companions that he hadn't even noticed when someone trying to get a better

view jostled him out into the road. He nearly dropped the full wine cup his father had urged into his hands to be presented for Lord Chaynal's refreshment, hoping, of course, that he would be remarked on and favored. The next thing he knew, a huge bay stallion was sidestepping him, snorting annoyance.

"Here, now," warned an amused voice above him, "watch what you're about, my lad. I realize the mighty Lord of Radzyn is a man to behold, but have a care to yourself all the same."

"Your pardon," Walvis replied, still unable to take his eyes from the splendid Battle Commander.

"Might I have a sip of that, by the way? It's been a long, dusty ride, and I could do with something besides water."

"I'm sorry, but my father bade me give this to Lord Chaynal himself." He glanced down, angry to see that half the fine Giladan red had sloshed out.

"Ah. Well, then. Chay!" he shouted, and the tall man turned in his saddle.

"My prince?"

"This boy here is waiting to give you a drink! Hurry up before he gets trampled!"

"My prince?" Walvis' gaze traveled up the stallion's shoulder to a fine saddle, gloved hands easy on the reins, strong arms in a white silk shirt, and a smiling face crowned only by sunlight shining on blond hair.

Goddess help him, he had insulted Prince Rohan. His father would have his hide.

But the young heir did not look insulted. As Lord Chaynal made his way to them, Prince Rohan asked, "What's your name? WaitЧyou wouldn't be Risnaya's boy, would you?"

"YesЧWalvis, your grace. I'm sorry, your grace. I didn'tЧ"

"Чrecognize me, or even see me, for that matter, next to the glory of my sister's husband." He was actually grinning. "Don't worry about it. Happens all the time."

Belatedly, Walvis proffered the cup. "Please, your

grace. It's good wine, my father keeps it for special occasions."

"No, you brought it for ChayЧand it's half empty." The prince winked. "Once you give it to him, can you run get me a full one?"

He couldn't help but grin back. "Immediately, your grace!"

And that had been all. A stumble nearly under his horse's feet, ignoring him in favor of Chay, a brimming wine cup (and a gracious thanks, with another wink), and they had ridden away on the hunt. Walvis had hoped they'd return by the same road so he could make amends for his mistake. But the next he heard of Prince Rohan was that summer, when a letter came asking his father if the boy could be spared to become a page at Stronghold.

Forty years. What had Rohan seen in him to make him remember Walvis with favor? Walvis was under no illusion that this summoning was only a princely whim. But why him? Poor, uneducated, barely able to read (although he had been the one to sound out the letter, for Risnaya could read nothing but his own name)Чstill Rohan had glimpsed something in him of value. Something worth taking the trouble to nurture.

Whatever it had been, Walvis had tried not to disappoint him. From page to squire to knight to Lord of Remagev, he had served his prince, fought for him and beside him, loved himЧand now, in the shattered moonlight, he wept for him.

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