"Jane S. Fancher - Dance of the Rings 3 - Ring of Destiny" - читать интересную книгу автора (Fancher Jane S)

be worried?"
"Suit yourself," Ganfrion replied with a frown, and
under cover of his coat, twisted the ring itching and cutting
off circulation to his smallest finger. Damned spider-
fingered pen-scratcher. In one brief moment, Mikhyel dun-
Mheric had saddled him with a ring several sizes too small
and an associated oath that choked his whole gods-be-
damned philosophy of life.
"Heard tell the Rhomandi's brothers showed up in camp
last night. Guess you're proof of that, eh?"
He shrugged, tacitly avoiding the details of that arrival.
A handful of returns later: "What's he like?"
"Hm?" He grunted, forcing his eyes to focus.
"You're shat, man. Better stop."
He growled, and the man raised a warding hand. It was
lack of sleep, not too much drink that slurred his tongue
and made his eyes droop, but damned if he'd explain that
to the lump. "Wha's who like?"
"Th' Barrister. Met the kid brother oncenever can re-
member his name."
"Nik" His voice caught with the stitch in his side. "
aenor. Nikki."
"Yeah, that's the one. Odd name, to my way of thinking.
Kid visited the Rhomandi on the border back when Dey-
morin Rhomandi was still Deyrnio even f the likes of us.
Solid man, Deymio. Liked what I saw then, liked what I
heard after. City man who looks after somethin' other than
th' Cities. Knows th' value of a fighting man and a farmer,
he does. Proud, I was, when he included me in his special
muster. The kidhell, he was a kid. But what about this
middle brother? As hard as they say?"
What was Mikhyel dunMheric like? Certainly nothing
like his brothers. Deymorin Rhomandi, Princeps of Rhoma-
tum and the Rhomandi of House Rhomandi, at least
looked the part of a leader. Big man. Solid, as this lump
said. The sort that could inspire men to follow and trust
just by his presence. A trait that made men like Ganfrion
that much more suspicious of him. Still, there was enough
substance behind the appearance to warrant this lump's
assessment.
Physically and by nature, Rhomandi was a true descen-
dant of Darius, the very image of those who had emigrated
from Mauritum three hundred years ago. Nikaenor, youn-
gest of the three, was softer yet still unquestionably the
same breed.
Mikhyel dunMheric had been pulled from an entirely dif-
ferent mold. The first time he'd seen him, Ganfrion had
mistaken him for a hiller
No. That had been the second time. The first time, he'd
been in the High Court sentencing pit and dunMheric had