"C. S. Friedman - Coldfire 1 - Black Sun Rising" - читать интересную книгу автора (Friedman C. S)

growing in her since she left the Bellamy household nearly an hour earlier. Her
daughter Alix, barely five, had already mastered the rudiments of riding, and
delighted in bare-backing the castleтАЩs miniature unhorses whenever her parents
would let her. Tory, nine, had clearly inherited his fatherтАЩs insatiable curiosity,
and could be found at any given moment in the place he least belonged, doing
something that was only marginally allowable. Eric, the oldest, proud master of
eleven years of lifely experience, was already practicing his charm on all the
household staff. He alone had inherited his fatherтАЩs manner, which would serve
him well when he received his lands and title; the Neocount had charmed many
an enemy into martial impotence with the force of his presence alone.
As for her husband, the Neocount himself . . . she loved him with a passion
that was sometimes near to pain, and adored him no less than did the people he
ruled. He was an idealist who had swept her off her feet, caught her up in his
dreams of Revival and then set her by his side while king and church jockeyed to
do him the greatest honor. A young genius, he had turned GannonтАЩs wars into
triumphs, thus abetting the unification of all the human lands. He had bred
unhorses from local stock that were almost indistinguishable from the true
equines of Earth, imposing his will on their very evolution with a force and
efficiency that others could only wonder at. Likewise his uncats chased the local
rodents with appropriate mock-feline fervor, ignoring the less harmful insects
which were their grandsiresтАЩ preferred prey; in two more generations he would
have the fur looking right - so he promised - and even the behavioral patterns
that accompanied their hunting.
In truth, she believed there was nothing he couldnтАЩt do, once he set his mind
to it . . . and perhaps that was what frightened her.
The castle courtyard was empty when she entered, which was far from
reassuring. She was accustomed to returning home at dusk, and her children
were accustomed to meeting her. Pouring forth from the house like a litter of
overexcited unkittens, plying her with a thousand questions and needs and
тАЬlook-seesтАЭ before she could even dismount. Today they were absent - a discon-
certing change - and as she gave her reins over to the groom she asked him,
with feigned nonchalance, where they were.
тАЬWith their father, Excellency.тАЭ He held the unhorse steady while she
dismounted. тАЬBelowground, I believe.тАЭ
Belowground. She tried not to let him see how much that word chilled her,
as she walked through the evening shadows to the main door of the keep.
Belowground . . . there was only his library there, she told herself, and his
collection of Earth artifacts, and the workroom in which he studied the contents
of both. Nothing more. And if the children were with him . . . that was odd, but
not unreasonable. Eventually they would inherit the castle and all that was in it.
ShouldnтАЩt they be familiar with its workings?
Nevertheless she was chilled to the bone as she entered the cold stone keep,
and only her knowledge that the chill was rooted deep inside, in the heart of her
fear, caused her to give over her cloak and surcoat to the servant who waited
within.
тАЬHereтАЩs a message for you,тАЭ the old woman said. She handed her an
envelope of thick vellum, addressed in the NeocountтАЩs neat and elegant hand.
тАЬHis Excellency said to see you got it, as soon as you arrived.тАЭ
With a hand that was trembling only slightly she took it from her, and
thanked her. I wonтАЩt read it here, she told herself. There was an antechamber