"Raymond E. Feist - Conclave of Shadows 3 - Exile's Return" - читать интересную книгу автора (Feist Raymond E)

seen the disapproval in his father's eyes, and he had charged after the boar into the
underbrush, without heeding the warning of the Master of the Hunt.
Before the men could catch up, Kaspar's horse had chased the boar into a thicket
where it had turned at bay. Kaspar had done everything possible that was wrong, yet
when his father and the others had arrived, he stood ignoring the gash in his leg,
standing triumphant over the still-thrashing animal. The Master of the Hunt put the
animal down with a quick arrow, and Kaspar's father had hurried to bind his son's leg.
The pride Kaspar had seen in his father's eyes, despite the admonishing words
about foolish acts, had branded the boy for life. Never be afraid. He knew that no
matter what, any choice must be made fearlessly, or else all would be lost.
Kaspar remembered the day when the mantle of rulership had fallen on his
shoulders, and he had stood mutely by, holding his baby sister's hands while the
priests applied torches to the funeral pyre. As smoke and ash rose to the heavens, the
young Duke of Olasko again pledged to be fearless in all things, and to protect his
people as if he was facing that boar.
Somewhere it had all gone sour. Seeking a proper place in the sun for Olasko had
somehow turned into naked ambition, and Kaspar had decided that he needed to be
King of Roldem. He was eighth in line for succession, so a few accidents and
untimely deaths would be all he required in order to unite all the disparate nations of
the east under Roldem's banner.
As he lay there thinking this, Kaspar's father appeared suddenly, and for a
moment Kaspar wondered if he had died and his father had come to guide him to the
Hall of Death, where Lims-Kragma would weigh the value of his life and select his
place on the wheel for its next turning.
'Didn't I tell you to be cautious?'
Kaspar tried to speak, but his voice was barely a croaking whisper. 'What?'
'Of all the weaknesses that beset a man, vanity is the most deadly. For through
vanity can a wise man turn to folly.'
Kaspar sat up and his father was gone.
 In his fevered state, he had no idea what the vision of his father meant, though
something told him it was important. He didn't have time to ponder this. He knew he
couldn't wait until sundown, his life was now being counted out in minutes. He
stumbled down the rocks to the flatlands, heat shimmer rising off the gray and ochre
rocks, stumbling over the broken shards of stone once made smooth by ancient
waters.
Water.
He was seeing things that weren't real. He knew that his father was dead, yet now
the spirit of the man seemed to be marching before him.
'You placed too much faith in those who told you what you wished was true, and
ignored those who tried to tell you what was true.'
In his mind, Kaspar shouted, 'But I was a force to be feared!' The words came out
an inarticulate grunt.
'Fear is not the only tool of diplomacy and governance, my son. Loyalty is born
from trust.'
'Trust!' shouted Kaspar, his voice a ragged gasp as the word seemed to scrape
along the inside of a parchment-dry throat. 'Trust no one!' He stopped, nearly falling
over, as he pointed an accusing finger at his father. 'You taught me that!'
'I was wrong,' said the apparition sadly and it vanished.
Kaspar looked around and saw he was heading in the general direction of where
he had seen the reflected shimmer. He staggered along, lifting one foot and putting it