"Katherine Kurtz - Camber 1 - Camber Of Culdi" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

She reached her father's door and knocked lightly before slipping the latch
and going inside.
Camber was seated behind a curved hunt table, the leather surface littered
with rolls of parchment and ink-stained quills and other accoutrements of the
academic mind. Her cousin, James Drummond, was with him, and both of them
stopped speaking as she entered the room.
Cousin James looked decidedly angry, though he tried to conceal it. Camber's
face was inscrutable.
"I beg your pardon, Father. I didn't know Jamie was with you. I can come back
later."
"There's no need, child." Camber stood, both hands resting lightly on the
table. "James was just leaving, weren't you, James?"
James, a blurred, darker copy of the silver-blond man behind the table,
hitched at his belt in annoyance and controlled a scowl. "Very well, sir, but
I'm still not satisfied with your analysis. I'd like to return tomorrow and
discuss it further, if you don't mind."
"Certainly I don't mind, James," the older man said easily. "I am always
willing to listen to well-reasoned arguments different from my own. In fact,
stay and share Michaelmas with us, if you can. Cathan won't be here, but Joram
is coming, and Rhys. We'd love to have you join us."
Disarmed by Camber's reply, James murmured his thanks and something about
having things to do, then bowed stiffly and made his exit.
With raised eyebrows, Evaine turned to face her father, leaning thoughtfully
against the closed door.
"Goodness, what was that about? Or shouldn't I ask?"
Camber crossed to the stone fireplace-a rare luxury in so small a room-and
pulled two chairs closer, gesturing for her to sit. "A slight difference of
opinion, that's all. James looks to me for guidance, now that his father is
dead. I fear he didn't get the answer he wanted to hear."
He yanked on a bell cord, then busied himself with poking at the fire until a
liveried servant appeared at the door with refreshment. Evaine watched
curiously as her father took the tray and bade the servant go. Then, cupping a
goblet of mulled wine between her palms, she gazed across at him. Despite the
fire and the tapestried walls, it was chill in the old room.
"You're very quiet this afternoon, Father. What is it? Did Jamie tell you
about the murder in the village last night?"
Camber tensed for just an instant, then relaxed. He did not look up. "You know
about that?"
She spoke carefully. "When a Deryni is killed, practically, under one's
window, one learns of it. They say that the king's men have taken fifty human
hostages, and that the king intends to invoke the Law of Festil if the
murderer is not found."
Camber drank deeply of his wine and stared into the fire. "A barbarous custom-
to hold an entire village to blame for the death of one man-even if the-man
was a Deryni."
"Aye. Maybe it was a necessary barbarism in the early days," Evaine mused.
"How else for a conquering race, few in numbers, to secure its hold over the
conquered? But you know how much Rannulf was disliked, even among our own
people. Why, I remember that Cathan practically had to evict him bodily from
Caerrorie one day, when you were still at Court. If gentle Cathan would do