"Janrae Frank - Journey of Sacred King 1 - My Sister's Keeper" - читать интересную книгу автора (Frank Janrae)

thrown the queen in. A very few said she was just another out of work soldier who
had drifted into their city and her name wasn't really Aejys Rowan at all.

But as the months had passed they watched the soldier kill a great wyrm for its
treasure and with only her own household defeat a raiding ship out of Brunstrat. So
they grew more certain with each passing day that she was the Lion of Rowanslea,
Aejystrys brye Rowan, who had commanded the Lionhawk's rearguard during the
Allied push into Waejontor when the war had finally turned against the Banewitch
Realm; and then vanished. However, no one knew for sure and Aejys wasn't telling.

They sat in comfortably padded claw armed chairs around a large horseshoe table
set in the middle of a long room. Pastries, fruit, and pitchers of golden Neridian ale
sat at intervals around the table. Aejys had lured away Duke Aaron of Beltria's most
celebrated baker and rarely let visiting syndics forget it. Most of them were
middle-aged men in dark silks and fine hosen. There were only two women in the
room besides Aejys: Marya Maryasdottir, a stout matron who ran the weaver's guild;
and Tagalong Smith, Aejys' dwarf companion in arms.

Tagalong sat at Aejys' right hand near the head of the table with her legs pulled up
into the chair and crossed. A beaded Kwaklahmyn headband attempted to hold in
check the unruly mass of shoulder-length crimson hair framing her broad blunt face.
Although she did not carry her sword at home, her ever-present war hammer hung
from her wide belt.

Opposite Tagalong, at Aejys' left hand, sat the second member of Aejys' inner
circle: Josh, who was sober for a change. A neatly-trimmed brown beard that was
heavily streaked with grey framed Josh's deeply seamed, battered face, and red
abraded complexion. He looked two decades older than his nearly thirty odd years.
His forefinger moved in nervous circles, rarely still for long. He never raised his eyes
to anyone's face, yet he listened to everyone. Aejys always included him, although
no one ever understood why she had adopted the town drunk in the first place. She
did a lot of things no one understood, but it had made her rich.

Beside him Thomas Cedarbird, the youngest and richest merchant in the city, son of
a Kwaklahmyn father and Vorgeni mother, leaned forward on his elbows to better
gauge the woman at the table's head. He held the best trading alliance with the
Kwaklahmyn of any in Vorgensburg by way of his father's lineage in the ruling family
and a substantial fleet inherited from his maternal grandfather. He was also a legend
in local circles for he had been the first to sail round the Cape of Jedrua. Cedarbird
spearheaded the effort to draft Aejys. They had now been arguing for over an hour.

"To accept our offer would not only be good for Vorgensburg, it would be
beneficial to you," Cedarbird insisted. "We need a warrior at the helm to lead us in
defense of the city, to guide us in the ways that will make us safe from the pirates
and raiders. You need our contacts, goods, and experience if you want your new
merchant fleet to prosper."

"Is that a threat or a bribe?" Aejys Rowan tamped the tobacco down in her pipe,
struck a lucifer, and lit it. She drew on the pipe thoughtfully for a moment, letting
smoke slide out from the corners of her mouth. Her large steel gray eyes had the