"Katherine Kurtz - Camber 3 - Camber the Heretic" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

Javan.
As for Javan, Rhys had to look for him at first, but then spotted the crippled
prince seated quietly in a nearby window embrasure with Tavis O'Neill, a
glowing charcoal pot at their feet. Javan seemed oblivious to what went on in
the rest of the room, eyes closed, his hands resting open-palmed on his knees
and covered lightly by Tavis'. Even from where he stood, Rhys could discern the
high energy level surrounding both of them, and surmised that Tavis was
working some kind of healing with his young charge.
Just then, Alroy noticed Rhys' arrival and put aside his cup of milk, smiling
tentatively, the grey eyes bright and a little feverish-looking.
"Lord Rhys!" he called, his words eliciting a cough which sounded of nerves
as much as any physical ailment.
His greeting resulted in a squeal of delight from behind the screen and then
the launching of a small, shirt-clad body into Rhys' arms, staggering the Healer
with the force of his arrival.
"Lord Rhys! Did you come to have supper with us?"
Rhys hugged his namesake and tousled the dark hair gently. "Thank you,
I've already eaten. Now, get back to your squire and get dressed before you
catch cold like your brother."
As Rhys Michael scurried to obey, Rhys moved closer to Alroy, who had
hung his head at Rhys's words. Lightly he touched the boy's forehead to check
for fever.
"And how are you this evening, Your Highness?" he asked easily. "Your
father tells me that you've not been well this week."
Alroy flashed a wan, tentative smile and cleared his throat, trying to muffle
another cough. "I am well enough, Lord Rhys. Sometimes I cough a lot, but I'm
better than I was last winter."
"You feel a little feverish."
"It's the fire," Alroy insisted, moving a little back from the flames. "I'm better.
Really, I am."
With a smile, Rhys took one of the prince's hands lightly in his own,
extending his senses, then shook his head lightly and dropped it.
"You're better than last winter," he agreed, "but you're not well enough. I
think it's early to bed for all of you tonight, and a physick against colds to boot."
"Oh, RhysтАФ"
"Now, none of that," Rhys countered, gently but insistently. "I assure you,
it's tasteless. I'll tell you what, though. We'll make it in the nature of a special
treat." He glanced at Alroy's squire. "Gavin, while Their Highnesses are at
supper, would you go down to the wine cellar and bring up a flask of that sweet
Fianna wine, please? You've all been wanting to taste it, and His Grace said it
would be all right just this once."
Young Gavin's grin was like sunlight in the gloomy room.
"I'll go right now, m'lord. I'd even take a physick for the chance to sample
that wine!"
"Then, you shall have that chance," Rhys grinned, slapping the boy on the
shoulder and sending him off toward the door. "Go and bring it, and a brace of
cups, and we shall all sample."
"You're sure it won't taste nasty?" Rhys Michael asked dubiously.
Rhys gave a good-natured chuckle. "I promise. Now, tell me how your studies
are progressing, child-of-my-name. Here, you can sit on my knee and make a