"P. C. Hodgell - Kencyrath Anthology 2 - Book 04 - Blood and Ivory - A Tapestry" - читать интересную книгу автора (Hodgell P. C)

He wished suddenly, intensely, that the randon would go in with him, and not for fear of any sword. Last
fall, it was Sere who had welcomed him to Tentir, to the start of a new life as a randon cadet. He had
thought, surrounded by so many other students, it would not matter that Greshan was also at the college,
starting his final year. It had mattered. Now he must face his brother again . . . and his father. Alone.


Ganth stepped over the threshold and began to pull the door shut after him. Its lower edge grated loudly
on the uneven floor.


The footsteps stopped. "Who's there?"


"I, Highlord." He fumbled for steel and flint on a ledge beside the door. "Your son."


The answer came in a hoarse howl, raw with pain. "My son is dead!" The hall seemed to rock. Ganth
caught the doorpost to steady himself.
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"Your other s-son, lord. Ganth Grayling."


He found the first wall torch by touch, struck fire, and kindled it, then the next, and the next. Between
them, faces moved uneasily in the flaring light. Men and women, young and old, portrait tapestries woven
out of threads teased from the clothes in which each had diedтАФall had the distinctive Knorth faces: high
cheekbones, large silver-gray eyes, thin mouths often twisted in pain, or arrogance, or cruelty. Kendar
weavers had the right to portray their Highborn masters as they had been in life.


They had been kind (thank Trinity!) to his mother, Telarien, dead less than a year with the birth of her
last childтАФTieri, a daughter. She hung in shadow on the far wall, her death still a wound too raw to face.


These banners, however, were far more ancient, layered, many dating back to the Fall nearly three
millennia ago. Unbidden, the ancient lament echoed in his mind:


Gerridon Highlord, Master of Knorth, a proud man was he. The Three People held he in his
handsтАФArrin-ken, Highborn, and Kendar. Wealth and power had he and knowledge deeper than
the Sea of Stars. But he feared death. "Dread Lord," said Gerridon to the Shadow that Crawls,
even to Perimal Darkling, ancient of enemies, "my god regards me not. If I serve thee, wilt thou
preserve me, even to the end of time?" Night bowed over him. Words they spoke. Then went my
lord Gerridon to his sister and consort, Jamethiel Dream-Weaver, and said, "Dance out the souls
of the faithful, that darkness may enter in." And she danced.