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

at the magical drape behind them. "You have met her, I presume?"
"Queen Rasha? I mean Sultana-"
His already ruddy face darkened and reddened even more. "She is no queen, no
sultana! She was a dockside harlot who illicitly acquired occult powers. Now she
styles herself sultana, but there is no truth in that! None!" Just for a moment,
his anger betrayed his youth.
But Inos knew that Rasha had not truly impressed her as royalty. She had not
sounded right, or moved right.
"What a marvelous view you have here!" Kade exclaimed, firmly changing the
subject.
For the first time, Inos took a serious look at where she was. The room was big,
much larger than Inisso's chamber of puissance, but not unlike. It was obviously
located high up, it was circular, and it had four windows. If those similarities
were important and not just coincidence, they must mean that this also was a
sorcerer's chamber. A sorceress's, of course. Rasha's. The walls were of white
marble, supporting a huge bulbous dome of the same milky rock. There were no
windows in the great shell, but light flooded it from somewhere, apparently
through the stone itself. Moreover, that strange brightness pulsed with
inexplicable, eerie movements that Inos could see perfectly well out of the
corner of her eye, but not when she looked straight at them. Then the shiftings
ceased and there was nothing there except smooth translucent marble; while the
haunting would have started somewhere else. Creepy!
And the view that her aunt had mentioned-the four wide openings were larger by
far than the casements in Inisso's tower, triple-arched and not merely unglazed,
but lacking even shutters. Obviously Arakkaran's climate was kinder than
Krasnegar's.
At her left, the austere yellow light of morning streamed in from a newborn sun,
aiming a golden sword at her across the sea. All through her childhood, seaward
had meant northwardthe Winter Ocean. At Kinvale, although it was well inland,
seaward had meant westward, toward Pamdo Gulf. Sea to the east was wrong,
horrifying. It told her she was appallingly far from home.
Southward, towers and more pointed domes obscured much of the view, but she
could tell she was high in some castle or palace. Beyond them she glimpsed a
coastline of dry brown hills falling to white surf, stretching off to meet the
sky. Craggy peaks to the west were already almost lost in a heat haze. They were
much higher and rockier than the Pondague range, and obviously desert.
Fatigue and despair crushed down on her. She struggled to recall childhood
lessons from Master Poraganu, wishing she had been more attentive. Djinns were
tall, fierce folk, with reddish skin and hair ... djinns lived in Zark ...
desert and sand. Those mountains looked bare as any desert she could imagine.
But Zark was somewhere in the extreme southeast of pandemia, about as far from
Krasnegar as it was possible to be. Which would explain why Master Poraganu had
not gone into details, and why she had not listened.
Her eyes went again to the shining water eastward. That must be the Spring Sea,
and she remembered Mistress Meolome talking about silk once, long ago.
"Is this truly Zark?" Kade exclaimed. "How thrilling! I have always wanted to
see more of Pandemia. This will be a very informative and educational visit."
She beamed warningly at Inos.
"Arakkaran is a small, poor place compared to the Impire," Azak proclaimed, "but
its people are a proud and noble race, jealous of their own ways and their