"Duncan, Dave - A Man Of His Word 02 - Faery Lands Forlorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

2
From the dark cold of Krasnegar, Inos stumbled through a curtain of jewels into
blinding light and a heat that took her breath away. Her willful feet carried
her several paces farther before she felt them returned to her control.
But Rap and Aunt Kade were in danger-without even pausing to take stock of where
she was, she spun around and rushed blindly back to the drape.
There was nothing there to stop her except many dangling strands of gems,
flickering and tinkling in the breeze. A moment earlier she had passed between
the strings with no trouble at all, but now she bounced off, stubbing her toe
and almost falling. From this side, apparently, the curtain was as impenetrable
as a castle wall. Yet it still shimmered and. rippled. Infernal sorcery! She
thumped fists on it furiously.
"Anger will not help," said a harsh male voice behind her. She wheeled around,
screwing up her eyes against the glare. He was big, as tall as a jotunn. His
pale-green cloak billowed and danced in the breeze, making him seem even larger.
Yet in a moment she could make out his ruddy-hued face, and the thin line of red
beard framing it. He was a djinn, therefore. Of course.
Under the cloak he wore voluminous pajamas of emerald silk, but she doubted he
had just climbed out of bed. The scimitar hanging at his side, for example, its
hilt glittering with diamonds-not a comfortable sleeping companion. The
miscellaneous gems scattered from his lofty turban to the curled-up toes of his
shoes, and especially the wide cummerbund of solid emeralds encircling his waist
... no, those were not believable bed wear. And no matter how slim he was, that
incredible belt must be excruciatingly tight. It was a wonder he could breathe
in it.
His face was thin and intense, his nose aquiline, and his eyes hard as rubies.
He was not very much older than herself. The size of him! Those shoulders ...
The arrogance! He was enjoying her inspection. Whom had he intended to impress?
"Your name and station, wench?"
She drew herself up, miserably aware of her ruined leather riding habit,
bloodstained and filthy; aware also that she must be haggard with fatigue-eyes
like open sores, hair in yellow tangles. "I am Queen Inosolan of Krasnegar. And
you, lad?"
Her insolence made fires flicker in his crimson eyes. Her head would barely
reach his shoulder, and that emerald sash alone would buy her whole kingdom,
even if the gems did not go all the way around him.
"I have the honor to be Azak ak'Azakar ak'Zorazak, Sultan of Arakkaran."
"Oh!" Dummy! Had she expected him to be a cook or a barber, dressed like that?
The diamond medallion on his turban was worth a fortune in itself. Remembering
in time that she was wearing jodhpurs, not skirts, she bowed.
The young giant studied her disapprovingly for a moment. Then he swept an
expansive gesture with a large, red-brown hand and doubled over as if to touch
his turban to his knees, making Inos wince. Obviously that emerald cummerbund
was not tight at all-his waist really must be that narrow, and his back was even
broader than she had suspected. He flicked himself upright again as if such
gymnastics were no problem at all, but she could not tell if they were a
compliment or a mockery.
Sultan! Rasha had claimed to be sultana, and this lad was far too young to be
her husband. Of course that was assuming that Rasha was what she had seemed when