"Janrae Frank - Dark Brothers of the Light 02 - Bloood Heresy" - читать интересную книгу автора (Frank Janrae)

--You would belong to me. I would love you. I would be your god. The sa'nekaryiane. As I was
meant to be. As I was for the nekaryiane in centuries past.--

"We sent her power with our prayers and sacrifices so she would be freed."

--She will be free. I swear it.--

Zyne had gotten a child from Josiah Abelard to steal his genes for her parasitical race and produce a
generation of powerful mages. The tritons had captured her after the abortive assault on the Sacred King,
forced the unborn from her body, and prepared to execute her the next day in a rite to Nerindalori, God
of the Waves. Hoon and Anksha had rescued her. Standing there, listening to promises of greatness from
the voice in her head, she felt no obligation to either of them. "I am yours."

--Hoon wishes to use you to gain a kingdom. I will have a kingdom instead.--

She shivered. "What is it you wish?"

--A body. I must be reborn as sa'nekaryiane.--

"How?"

--Find a woman, close to term. I must build a body from that of an unborn child to house my soul.
There is a tower on the far side where those who wait for me gather. I have heard their prayers,
sensed their offerings. Tell no one. Especially Hoon. Take four or five men to help subdue and
handle her. We will eat them afterward.--

****

As the short winter days lengthened toward spring, the estate began to blossom with activity. The horses
were already beginning to shed their winter coats and Anksha had chosen to send her blood-slaves to
help in brushing them down and combing them out. Bodramet stood half in shadow, attempting to deal
with the last animal they had assigned to him. The proud-cut gelding, a difficult beast with a stallion's
instincts, kept shoving into Bodramet as he attempted to brush him. Bodramet snarled at the animal,
baring his fangs. At least they had not put him to mucking out stalls like Gareth and Petros. Nor would
they so long as he continued to do a superior job with the nasty creatures. This was a nibari's work or
servant's--not a sa'necari's. He resented it.

Satisfied with his efforts, Bodramet stepped back from the horse, and saw Timon and Ephry enter the
stables with Nevin. They headed for Isranon who was leading a fine chestnut mare towards the doors.
Isranon. Isranon. Always Isranon. They were courting the lowborn half-a-mon, he was certain of it.
Bodramet strained his ears to hear what they were saying. The horse crowded him again. Bodramet
slapped it on the rump, and then exited the stall. He closed the door and slipped nearer to the four myn,
pretending an interest in the tack hanging from some of the supports.

Timon had wooden practice blades under his arm. "Nevin tells me you are good with a blade."

Isranon paused and his expression brightened. "He trained me. My skills are good enough that they have
kept me alive."

Ephry laughed. "Considering the world you have survived in, you must be good indeed. Ask him, lover,"