"Gray, Julia - Guardian 01 - The Dark Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gray Julia)

'Then what . . . ?'
'There was a second son,' Mirival said bluntly.
The Emperor stared at the seer in amazement. 'Twins? How can that be?'
'Fate has seen fit to present us with a mystery,' Mirival replied, 'but I can at least offer one possible explanation.' He went on to describe the second baby's abnormal appearance, and then expounded Shahan's theory about the infant's acting as a shield against astrological influences.
'So the child split in two?' Dheran asked. 'Good and evil, so to speak?'
'You could put it that way.'
'That should make the Mentor's job easier, eh?' the Emperor commented, smiling at his own cleverness.
'Quite so, Your Majesty,' Mirival agreed affably, though he knew it could not possibly be that simple. 'However, it does present us with something of a problem concerning the second child. Because he has already served his purpose, we must decide what to do with him.'
'Ah,' Dheran responded, and frowned to show that he was giving the matter serious thought. 'I see what you mean. What do you suggest?' After that it was easy.
At the hour of midnight all the bells in the city of Makhaya began to ring in celebration of the birth of the long-awaited imperial heir, and also to honour the alignment of the four moons of Nydus in the sky above. The streets were thronged with people eager to witness this rare event, something that only occurred every seventy-five years and thus only once in most people's lifetimes. This was a night when fates collided, when great events were bound to happen, when history would be made, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. Not even the near-certain threat of earth tremors would keep the onlookers in their homes.
News of the birth of Adina's son was already spreading throughout the city as the crucial moment arrived. As everyone looked upwards, the thin crescents - which were all that was visible of the Red, White and Amber moons -grew thinner still. Then, at the exact moment of conjunction, they disappeared altogether behind the Dark Moon, the 'sky shadow' that was completely invisible because it reflected no light. Its observers only knew it was there because it hid the stars beyond and occasionally produced eclipses of the sun or, as now, its fellow moons.
The sky became a deeper black and the distant stars shone brighter as the whole world seemed to hold its breath. For a few moments the earth beneath their feet shook, as the islands began to change course, but most people hardly noticed. And then, as if by magic, the mirror images of the three crescents appeared in the sky, growing brighter and more substantial as the stately ballet of the heavens continued - and Makhaya's bells rang out in earnest.
Inside the palace the clamour of the celebrations could barely be heard, and the mood was far more serious. The impact of Mirival's words had been undeniable and - looking round the room at all the solemn faces - he felt a small measure of hope. We might just pull this off, he thought.
Against all the odds, it might work. No one had asked what was to happen to the unwanted baby.
'One final thing,' the seer went on. 'I don't need to tell you how serious this matter is, nor how vital it is that our trust, both the Emperor's and mine, is not betrayed.' He had no need to emphasize just how important the events of the night were likely to be in deciding the future of the Floating Islands. Everyone present was aware of the importance of the arrival of the Guardian. 'No one outside this room, except for the imperial family themselves, must ever know of what we have witnessed here tonight. If our secret is revealed, you can be sure that I will discover the traitor - and that they and their family will be exiled.'
This barbaric threat had the desired effect. Duty would now be reinforced with fear - and if a few unsubstantiated rumours did persist, they could easily be dismissed as superstition. Mirival was already thinking ahead to the first public appearance of Dheran, Adina and their new son - their only son.
'I know I can rely on you all,' he concluded, allowing himself to smile. 'Now you are free to go about your normal duties - and to celebrate with the rest of Vadanis.' I, on the other hand, still have work to do, he thought grimly as he turned away and headed for his own quarters.
The city's revels lasted until dawn, and long before they were over the final part of Mirival's plan had been put into action. No one paid any attention to the unmarked carriage that slipped from the city under cover of darkness, and by the time the sun rose it was many leagues away.
Apart from the driver, the coach carried a man and a woman. In the woman's arms lay a tiny, misshapen baby, now wrapped warmly and fast asleep, but his companions did not know who he was or where he had come from - and knew better than to enquire. Their instructions had been passed on to them by people it would be unwise to double-cross, and had been quite specific.
'He's a poor scrap of a thing,' the woman remarked, looking down at the discoloured face.
'Don't get too attached,' her companion warned her. 'We deliver him as arranged, nothing more.'
'I know that.' They were both being paid enough to ensure they did not deviate from their orders. 'What would I be doing with a kid like this, anyway?'
'I'm just saying,' the man replied wearily.
The woman reached up and pulled back the heavy curtains. Early morning sunlight slanted in, falling across the baby's face. He slowly opened his eyes - and his temporary nursemaid only just managed to stifle a scream.
Sensing her shock, the man leant over to look for himself - and he too froze in disbelief. They stared, as if hypnotized, trapped by a mixture of fear and wonder.
The irises of the baby's eyes had seemed colourless at first, but now, in daylight, they were like pale diamonds, bright and glittering as if formed by crystalline facets rather than human flesh - with only a few irregular but quite brilliant flashes of colour in their seemingly infinite depths. It was the most unnatural sight either of them had ever seen.
'Moons!' the man whispered. 'No wonder they wanted to get rid of him.'

PART ONE

HAVENMOON

Chapter One

The last thing Terrel saw before the darkness found him again was the White Moon falling from the sky. The bright disc grew incredibly fast, filling his vision and threatening to crush him. Yet in his eyes the moon was somehow flat, like an enormous plate, even though he knew it should be a sphere - but this just made him feel curious, not afraid.
And then it was gone, extinguished without a trace, and he was enfolded by the suffocating darkness. Pain reached out with red fingers. He heard the thunderous rhythm of the sea - the sea in which he swam, but which he had never seen. Already he felt himself growing smaller.
Terrel recognized this phase of the dream. What had gone before was a broken-mirror rush of images, some strange and formless, others vaguely intimate, as if they were memories that belonged to someone else. Although the images had been real, as only dreams can be real, they had not frightened him. But what came next, although familiar, almost drowned him in fear. He knew that when he awoke he would be gasping for air and shivering, his skin cold and drenched with sweat.
It was not the pain that terrified him. He was used to pain. Nor was it the thought of drowning. This ocean would always release him. It was not even the fact that he was blind. His other senses more than made up for that lack. His fear was caused by the hatred that lay beyond the darkness, beyond the waves of pain; the remorseless enmity that was driven by something he did not - could not - understand. He felt it seep into every fibre of his body, like a slow-acting poison or some vile disease.
He fought against it instinctively, defending himself against his invisible foe. But the best he could hope for was to survive. He could never win. Like a hedgehog curling into an ever tighter ball, Terrel was drawing in upon himself. Drawing in, and drawing in, until there was nothing left.
This - as always - was when he woke up.
'It's odd that it was the White Moon,' Alyssa remarked. 'You'd have thought it would've been the Amber.'
Terrel sat up, blinking the last of the dream away. Alyssa was sitting, cross-legged, on, the floor, and for a dazed moment he wondered how she had got in. Then he saw that the door to his cell stood open, and realized that he'd slept later than usual. He had not even heard the turnkey making his rounds.
'Do you think it's a sign of your destiny?' Alyssa went on. 'That's one of the meanings of the White Moon.'
'To have it fall on my head?' Terrel replied. 'I hope not.'
He no longer found it strange that Alyssa was able to 'see' his dreams. It was only one of her oddities, after all. When he had asked her about it, she had said that they floated near him, like a cloud, before they eventually faded and blew away. No one else could see these clouds, of course, but she had described his nocturnal visions with such startling accuracy on so many occasions that doubting her ability was no longer an option. Alyssa could do this with other people too - with anyone, in fact - but she had learnt not to speak of what she saw. Her strange talent had got her into trouble too often.
'Did you see anything after that?' Terrel asked. Time didn't mean a lot in Alyssa's view of dreams, but she knew what he meant, and shook her head. Terrel hadn't really expected anything else. She always seemed to pick up on the early, trivial parts of his dreams, but never the end. What she saw was sometimes embarrassing, sometimes curious, but more often than not it was merely dull, because it didn't mean anything. He would have welcomed some insight into the fear, but she would never discuss that. Whenever he'd asked her about it she simply said that it wasn't really a dream, but was part of him. That was frustrating, but no amount of coaxing would make Alyssa admit to anything more, and Terrel had long since given up trying to force the issue. He wasn't even sure now whether she had anything more to say.
'Do you dream about the Amber Moon?' he asked now. All the moons had their own characters, their own spheres of influence, and the Amber moved in the realm of spirits, of intuition - and of dreams.
'I don't know,' she replied. 'I never remember my own dreams.'
'Never?' Terrel exclaimed in surprise, then realized that in all the times they had talked about dreams, he had never heard her discuss her own experiences.
Alyssa tipped her head to one side, a habit of hers when she was thinking. It reminded Terrel of the action of a small bird.