"Fancher, Jane - Rings 2 - Ring Of Intrigue" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)There'd been too much of himself and Deymorin and
black history in recent days. Deymorin and his adolescent friends had combed these tunnels for years. Nikki, born with the soul of a historian and infected early with Deymorin's capacity for getting into trouble, had been losing himself in them ever since Dey- morin first brought him here nearly ten years ago. But Mikhyel had never been part of those youthful explora- tions. Not Deymorin's earliest ones, not the later ventures with Nikki. Possibly he'd been invited, he couldn't say for certain that he had not, but his life had been quite ruthlessly disci- plined in those days, by his own choice as much as any- one's ordering. He stumbled yet again, would have gone to his knees but for Kiyrstin's hand on his elbow. Not Deymorin's doing this time, just an irregularity underfoot and his own grace- less self. Kiyrstin's hands steadied him, and Kiyrstin's voice reassured his brothersquickly enough, convincingly enoughthat Deymorin never thought to worry. "I should let you make my case to him all the time," Mikhyel murmured to her, when Deymorin's attention had returned to Nikki. "I wasn't certain. You looked very distracted for a moment." She tipped her head as if to see him better. "Truth?" "Truth," he answered firmly. She gave a quick nod, declaring the topic closed, and slipped her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. Friend- ship. Support. And respect for his privacy. Unorthodox in her appearance, uncompromising in her opinions, this Mauritumin lady of Deymorin's was nonethe- less a very comfortable sort of person, and Mikhyel wel- comed her as an almost-sister. Welcomed, as well, her custody of his hand that gave him an anchor to his immedi- ate surroundings. "What is all this?" she asked, squinting past him at a blocked side tunnel bearing an official nonentry sign. Be- yond the blockade, barely visible in the flickering torch- light, were signs of in-progress renovations. 'The first Rhomatum." "Underground? Grandfather Darius was a bit of an ec- centric, wasn't he?" A hint of laughter touched her voice: deliberately, he was certain. Kiyrstin, like Deymorin, had decided to let Sironi worry about why his prisoners were not worried. "Actually," he answered, striving to match her tone, "I'm quite certain it was a good idea at the time. If Darius is to be believed, the little squall that chased us in was a spring |
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