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

old friend Jebediah of Alcara, Grand Master of the Michaelines as well as Earl
Marshal of Gwynedd. He and Jebediah read the words of the royal missive
together in the bishop's studyтАФterse and typical of King Cinhil. Jebediah then
gave Camber the true gist of the message.
Yes, the king was sick. Alister must come. Yes, his condition was serious;
and yes, he had seen the royal Healer. No, he was not about to die until his
good friend and chancellor, Alister, got back to the capitalтАФand maybe not even
then, if he could help it.
But Cinhil had also made it abundantly clear that he would brook no delay
in Alister's coming. And though he had not made it precisely clear, he had
certainly implied that there were other reasons for calling the
chancellor-bishop back from Grecotha so soon after Twelfth NightтАФ reasons
which might not be consigned to the written word, even in the hands of his earl
marshal.
 At that, Camber had begun to hopeтАФboth that the king's condition was not
so grave as he had first been led to expect, and that Cinhil might have reached
the decision which Camber, as Alister, had been urging for more than a decade.
And so the Bishop of Grecotha had summoned his household guard and set
out for the capital just after first light, riding hard through the snowdrifts of late
January and pausing only to change horses and occasionally take a hot meal.
At this pace, they would be in Valoret before nightfall. As they rode, Camber
had time for reflection, for wondering, for playing the tempting game of if only.
If only Cinhil were not dying. If only his final illness might have been
delayed, even for a few more years. For that matter, if only Cinhil had been
younger when they put him on the throne. A man in his mid-forties was hardly
of an age to be starting a royal family, especially if he hoped to see that family
grow to maturity.
His eldest son had been poisoned as an infant, before Cinhil even came to
the throne. The twins, next in age, were not quite twelve, a full two years and
more from their legal majority. The youngest was just ten, and their mother
dead these nine years of bearing a final son who outlived her by only a few
months. Even when the twins came of age, it would be several years before the
first of these, young Alroy, could be expected to rule competently on his own.
Until that time, Gwynedd would continue to be effectively governed by a council
of regents.
Camber had feared that this day would come; had known, when he and his
children had placed the reluctant Cinhil on the throne, nearly thirteen years
ago, that it would likely come far, far too soonтАФbut he had never given up hope
that the inevitable might be delayed for yet a little longer. Even now, a potential
regency council not entirely of Camber's liking had been named by Cinhil; and
many of them watched and plotted and waited for Cinhil to die, solidifying their
influence over the three young princes, prodding and undermining the spirit of
human-Deryni coexistence which wise men of both races had tried for years to
inculcate both in the future heirs and in the people of GwyneddтАФand Cinhil
would not see the danger.
Now the anti-Deryni factions were about to get their wish. Cinhil would die
within the year, probably within the month, if Rhys' estimates were correct,
and young King Alroy would be ruled by his regents. The last of the Deryni
loyal to the Crown would be ousted from their offices, their positions of
influence, no matter that many of them had served Gwynedd and its present