"Katherine Kerr - Deverry 04 - Dragonspell" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kerr Katherine)

Since Rhys had died childless, the members of the Council were already jockeying for position at the
starting line of this possible horse race. Lovyan knew full well that they were beginning to form half-secret
alliances and to accept gifts and flatteries that were very nearly bribes. She was furious, in a weary sort of
way, for though Rhys had no sons, he did leave a legal heir, one marked with the approval of the King
himself, Rhodry, RhysтАЩs younger brother and her last-born son. If only Rhodry were home safe in
Aberwyn there would be no need for Council meetings disguised as social visits, but he had been sent
into exile some years before by a fit of his brotherтАЩs jealousy and no better cause. Now, with the KingтАЩs
own decree of recall published and all Aberwyn waiting for him as heir, he had disappeared, as well and
thoroughly gone as a morning mist by a hot noontide. When the King had made his proclamation of
recall, some days before, his highness had set the term as a year and a day - just a year and a day for
them to find the heir and bring him home. Less than that now, she thought; an eightnightтАЩs almost gone.

Although she was certain that Nevyn knew his whereabouts, the old man was refusing to tell her.
Every time she asked, he put her off, saying that someone was on their way to bring Rhodry back home
and no more. She knew perfectly well that her son was in some grave danger. By trying to spare her
feelings, Nevyn was making her anxiety worse, or so she assumed, thinking that her troubled mind would
no doubt make up worse dangers than her lad was actually in. She suspected that some of those who
coveted Aberwyn had kidnapped him, and she lived in terror that they would kill him before NevynтАЩs
mysterious aide could rescue him. If, however, she had known the truth, she would have seen the
wisdom in NevynтАЩs silence.

That night the drizzle turned into a full-fledged winter storm, a long howl and slash of rain pounding out
of the south. It was only the first of many, Nevyn knew; the winter promised to be a bad one, and the
Southern Sea impassable for many a long month. In his chamber, high up in the main broch of AberwynтАЩs
dun, the shutters strained and banged in their latches, and the candle-lanterns guttered in the draughts.
Although the charcoal brazier was glowing a cherry-red, he put on a heavy wool cloak and arranged the
peaked hood around his neck to ward off the creeping chill. His guest was even more uncomfortable. A
Bardekian, close to seven feet tall and massively built, Elaeno had skin so dark that it was as blue-black
as ink, a colour indicating that he was at home in hot climates, not this damp draughtiness. This particular
night he was muffled up in two cloaks over a pair of linen shirts and some wool brigga that had been
specially sewn to fit him. Even so, he shivered at each gust of wind.

тАШHow do you barbarians manage to survive in this godforsaken climate?тАЩ Elaeno inched his chair a bit
closer to the brazier.

тАШWith great difficulty, actually. You should be glad weтАЩre here on the coast, not way up north, say in
Cerrgonney. At least it rarely snows in Eldidd. Up to the north theyтАЩll be over their heads in the stuff in
another month.тАЩ

тАШYou know, IтАЩve never seen snow. I canтАЩt say IтАЩm pining away from the lack.тАЩ

тАШIt wouldnтАЩt ache my heart if I never saw the nasty stuff again, either. IтАЩm cursed grateful youтАЩd winter
here.тАЩ
 тАШYou donтАЩt need to keep saying that.тАЩ

тАШMy thanks, but ye gods, I feel so weary these days. ThereтАЩs so blasted much riding on our Rhodry,
and there he is, off in Bardek where we canтАЩt reach him till spring, and the gods only know how heтАЩs
faring. When I think of the worst possibilities - тАШ

тАШDonтАЩt think of them. Just donтАЩt. ThereтАЩs naught we can do now, so donтАЩt dwell on what might be.